Once Upon a Maiden Lane (Maiden Lane #12.5)(13)

But she couldn’t let Lane get away with her cheek.

Once Mary had seen Lady Caire set an impertinent housemaid right with a mere look.

Mary lifted her chin, not replying, her gaze steady and calm.

After a moment Lane bit her lip and looked down. She stroked the dress, her gaze averted. Her voice was softer when she said, “Two years old but still quite in fashion. Come, let me help you dress, my lady.”

Mary nodded and stepped forward.

It was strange having another woman undress her as if she were a small child. The lady’s maid efficiently stripped her of her worn gown and stays and then eyed Mary’s chemise.

It was plain and had several mended spots.

Lane turned back to the cabinet and pulled open several drawers. “It’s quite lucky that Lady Joanna is your twin, isn’t it, my lady? Her underthings should fit you as well.”

The maid produced a lovely lawn chemise, so fine it was nearly transparent, and a pair of silk stockings. Mary inhaled and took off her old chemise and stockings, fighting not to cover herself. A lady wouldn’t think anything of standing naked in front of her lady’s maid.

She was a lady now.

Mary stood still as the chemise was dropped over her head and Lane laced her into new stays. Next came the stockings, and then the lady’s maid was tying the pannier cage around Mary’s waist. The thin wooden frames arched like little mounds, one on either side of her hips. Mary had never worn panniers before, and they felt strange, making her overly aware of her hips.

The dress came last, first the skirts draped over the panniers and tied around her waist, and then the bodice and overskirt in one piece. The entire thing was drawn on like a banyan or robe. The sides of the bodice were pinned to a stomacher in the front—a lovely embroidered V-shaped insert—from the décolletage to her waist. The overskirts fell open in front, revealing the skirt beneath. Behind Mary a great curtain of fabric draped from her shoulders to the floor in elegant excess.

Lane knelt to hold two heeled slippers for Mary to step into. Then Mary sat at the dressing table while Lane brushed out and redressed her hair.

“There,” the lady’s maid said, sounding satisfied. “You look lovely, my lady. That gown does suit you.”

Mary stared at her reflection in the mirror above the dressing table. A lady stared back, clad in an elegant robe à la fran?aise, her hair in curls and ribbons atop her head.

The lady in the mirror looked calm and serene—not at all as Mary was feeling inside. Would Lord Blackwell find this woman attractive?

Perhaps alluring?

She shivered, not sure if she wanted him to see her in her finery or not. Would he think she was something she wasn’t if he did?

Mary turned away from the mirror. She might be dressed like a lady, but she didn’t feel like one. “Thank you, Lane.”

The lady’s maid dipped into a curtsy as Mary left the bedroom.

Her skirts swept the floor with each step when Mary descended the stairs. She was careful to keep one hand on the banister, for she wasn’t used to either the weight of the dress or the tilting of the panniers as she moved.

She was to join Lady Angrove and the marchioness in one of the sitting rooms on the floor below. Mary had been shown the way before being led to her new bedroom, but now she paused as she reached the lower level. The hall ran both to the right and to the left, and there were doors in either direction. Which way was the sitting room?

Mary felt sweat bead at the small of her back.

She turned to the right, her panniers swaying gently as she walked in the heeled shoes. She was more used to practical buckled shoes with a wide square heel. The dainty slippers she wore were embroidered with tiny flowers over the toe and had a pointy little heel. They’d be ruined within a day if she wore these slippers on the street in St Giles.

Mary shook her head. She needed to find the sitting room, not contemplate beautiful, frivolous shoes.

She paused at the third door to the right. This might be the correct room, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

Mary squared her shoulders and opened the door.

She knew at once that she had the wrong room. Unlike the light and airy sitting room she sought, this was a dark-paneled room with no windows. A large desk took up nearly one half of the room, while at the other end several chairs were grouped before a roaring fire.

A stout gentleman in his middle years sat behind the desk, his head bent as he wrote on a piece of paper.

He looked up as Mary stood frozen in the doorway and peered impatiently at her over spectacles. “I told you I’m busy, Joanna.”

Mary swallowed. “I’m not Jo.”





Chapter Five



One day a land prince fell into the sea and sank beneath the waves. Clio seized the beautiful man and brought him to the shore. She watched from the sea until he regained his senses.

But just as she got up the courage to call to him, a land maid happened by, and the man hailed her as his savior.

When Clio told Triton about it later, he rolled his eyes and muttered about boneheaded land men.…

—From The Curious Mermaid



Mary stared at the gentleman. He looked to be in his sixth decade, with a rather ordinary face save for his large brown eyes. He wore a soft cap and a wine-colored banyan over breeches and shirt.

“Not Joanna?” He slowly set aside his quill, staring at her. “Then you’re the other one.”