Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways #1)(61)

Betty opened the taps and adjusted the water temperature. She laid out bath linens across the chaise longue in a precise row. "Shall I attend while tha bathes, miss?"

"No, thank you," Amelia said at once. "I'll manage by myself. If you wouldn't mind bringing my clothes to the adjoining dressing room?

"Which dress, miss?"

That stopped Amelia cold. She realized she had come to Stony Cross Manor with no clothes whatsoever. "Oh, dear. I wonder if someone could be sent to Ramsay House to fetch my things?

"They're likely all clarity and full of smoke, miss. But Lady St. Vincent had some of her own dresses put in your room—she and thee are more of a size than Lady Westcliff, who's taller, so she?

"Oh, I can't wear Lady St. Vincent's clothes," Amelia said uncomfortably.

"Afraid there's no help for it, miss. There's a lovely red woolen—I'll fetch it for thee."

Since there appeared to be no possibility of retrieving any of her own gowns, Amelia nodded and murmured her thanks. She went behind the dressing screen and removed her robe, while the housemaid shut off the taps and left the bathing room.

As Amelia stripped away the nightgown and let it drop to the floor, she saw a flash of gold on her left forefinger. Startled, she lifted her hand and examined it. A small gold signet ring with an elaborate engraved initial. It was the one Cam always wore on his smallest finger. He must have put it on her last night, while she was sleeping. Had he meant it as a parting gift? Or did it have some other significance to him?

She tried to pull it off, and discovered it was firmly stuck. "Drat," she muttered, tugging at the thing in vain. She took a cake of soap from the wardrobe and brought it into the bath with her. The hot water soothed a myriad of small aches and stings, easing the soreness between her thighs.

Sighing deeply, Amelia soaped her hand and went to work on the ring. But no matter how she tried, it wouldn't budge. Soon the surface of the bathwater was covered with soap froth, and Amelia was cursing with frustration.

She couldn't let anyone see her wearing one of Cam's rings. How in God's name was she supposed to explain how and why she'd gotten it?

After pulling and twisting until her knuckle was swollen, Amelia gave up and finished her bath. She dried herself with a Turkish towel, its pile loose and soft against her skin. Entering the adjoining dressing room, she found Betty waiting for her with an armload of soft wine-colored wool.

"Here is the dress, miss. The dress will look right pretty on thee, with tha dark hair."

"Lady St. Vincent is too generous." The piles of crisp frothy undergarments looked so pristine, it was likely they had never been worn. There was even a corset, its white laces as neat as surgical sutures.

"Oh, she has many, many dresses," Betty confided, handing Amelia a pair of folded drawers and a chemise. "Lord St. Vincent sees to it that his wife is dressed like a queen. I'll tell thee summat: if she wanted the moon for her looking glass, he'd find a way to pull it down for her."

"How do you know so much about them?" Amelia asked, hooking the front of the corset while Betty moved behind her to pull the laces.

"I'm Lady St. Vincent's maid. I travel with her wherever she goes. She bid me to attend thee and the other Miss Hathaways?they need special care,' she said, 'after what they've endured.'"

Amelia held in her breath as the laces were tugged firmly. When they were finally tied, she expelled a quick breath. "That was very kind of her. And you. I hope my family hasn't been troublesome."

For some reason that produced a chuckle. "Tha art a shandy lot, if you don't mind my saying so, miss." Before Amelia could ask what that meant, the maid exclaimed, "What a small waist tha has! I expect Lady St. Vincent's dress will fit thee like a glove. But before we try it, tha'd better put thy hosen on."

Amelia took a handful of translucent black fabric from her. "Hosen?"

"Silk stockings, miss."

Amelia nearly dropped them. Silk stockings cost a fortune. And these were embroidered with tiny flowers, which made them even more expensive. If she wore them, she would be in terror of snagging them. However, there seemed to be no other choice, short of going without.

"Do put them on," Betty urged.

With a mixture of temptation and guilt, Amelia dressed in the most luxurious clothes she had ever worn in her life. The dress, lined with silk, was entirely ladylike, but it draped and molded over her figure in a way her own clothes never had. Straight, close-fitting sleeves went to her elbow, where they flared in spills of black lace. The same black lace trimmed the deep bias hem of the skirt, which was layered to suggest a multitude of underskirts. A black satin sash emphasized the neat curve of her waist, the ends crossed and pinned at the side with a sparkling jet brooch.

Sitting at the dressing table, Amelia watched as Betty dexterously braided black ribbons in her hair and pinned it up. Since the maid seemed friendly and talkative, Amelia ventured, "Betty ... how long has Lady St. Vincent been acquainted with Mr. Rohan?"

"Since childhood, miss." Betty grinned. "That Mr. Rohan, he's a fine doorful of man, aye? You should see the carryings-on when he visits the master's house—every last one of us fighting for a turn at the keyhole, just to gawp at him."

"I wonder..." Amelia strove for a casual tone. "Do you think the relationship between Mr. Rohan and Lady St. Vincent was ever..."