How to Marry a Marble Marquis(45)
“You there. Girl. I want tea delivered to my room. Something with lavender, not too stimulating, with cream and sugar. I didn’t think I would need to be wondering about searching for servants this way.”
Eleanor was so stunned that she glanced over her shoulder, assuming she would find the aforementioned servant hovering behind her, likely cowering from the imperious tone of the woman’s voice. There was no one. There was none but the two of them in the grand parlour, which meant . . .
“How many different servants do I need to ask? I don’t want to be kept waiting all day.”
”Excuse me?!“ Eleanor cut in, cheeks heating. “But you’re very much mistaken. I’m not one of the servants. I’m a guest, like you, presumably?”
She wasn’t certain what she was expecting, not after such a rude beginning to the conversation, but if it had been an apology, Eleanor would have been terribly disappointed. The other woman’s lips puckered as she held a slice of lemon between her teeth. She felt the slide of snakelike eyes move over her slowly, deciding she was being wickedly unfair to snakes with the comparison, the other woman’s gaze at last settling on Eleanor’s face. She gave a dubious little snort, her eyes moving in a quick up and down once again.
“Are you quite certain?”
Fire bloomed in her veins, and she wondered if she could possibly break the record for ruining her own chances of success with this ball.
The other woman sniffed, turning away as if Eleanor were no longer worthy of her undivided attention. “Well, you can hardly blame me. If you go traipsing about dressed like the help, you can’t be surprised when someone assumes you are, in fact, the help. I think my gardener has that same dress.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she couldn’t even bring herself to gasp in offense. She was too shocked at the woman’s brazenness. Before she could react, a lanky young man with foppish brown curls appeared. “Darling, the maid brought your tea.” He gave Eleanor the same swift up and down with a similarly sour expression.
“Finally! It’s been ages since I asked . . .” The duo gave Eleanor one last wrinkled-nose look before disappearing down the corridor. Unbelievable. If that’s what the rest of the ball was going to be like, she would need to identify her best match, seal the deal as quickly as possible, and encourage him to leave early.
“Miss?” She jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice, the diminutive fox-eared appearing at her elbow. “Miss Eastwick,” she gave a bobbing curtsy that sent her fluffy tail bouncing, “I’m Trilby. I’ll be your ladies’ maid for the ball. Let me show you to your room, miss.”
The girl was debutante-aged herself, Eleanor realized that she followed the young woman. Eyeing the various seams in the fox girl’s dress, allowing her tail to come through, she thought, quite unwillingly, up Silas. Unbuttoning his tailcoat had been oddly intimate, especially considering the reason why she was unbuttoning it and what they were doing together, but for some reason, that specific act seemed even more emotionally charged to her. The actions of a wife, she thought, cheeks heating.
“Do you know who that was?” Eleanor asked once the door had clicked shut behind them. “Those two people I was talking to, the man and the woman?”
Trilby’s smile was tight as she nodded her head, all the answer Eleanor needed. “The Skevingtons. Lady Stephana is here to attend the ball, and her brother Archie is here as her chaperone.” Perfect. Names to avoid. “I’ll begin unpacking all of your trunks, miss. Do you have a preference on which dress you would like to have for dinner?”
She had packed her best dresses. The nicest was from her own days as a dewy-faced debutante, although it had been altered several times to accommodate the curves she hadn’t had when the dress was first commissioned. None of her dresses or gowns were particularly well-tailored, not anymore. They had been taken apart and turned so many times, never to her exact measurements, and she already knew that she would be the most shabbily dressed attendee the ball would likely see. Which is why the marquis’s lessons are going to be so important.
“There’s only one trunk, so you won’t have much to―”
She turned, her mouth dropping open in shock at what lay at the foot of the bed. Her own small valise, looking positively ancient amidst the sumptuously appointed chamber, as the fox girl rooted through the first of two other opened trunks that she had never seen before. “Oh dear, Trilby, I believe there’s been a mistake . . .”
“If you weren’t certain, miss, I think this light purple is lovely. It’ll bring out your eyes. It will be a nice counterpoint to your outfit for the masked ball.”
Eleanor floundered. She had no idea what purple dress she was meant to own, nor what costume she was meant to wear to this masked ball. “Master Bow mentioned that there would be masks on hand if needed?”
“Oh yes, Master Bow thinks of everything. Fortunately, you won’t be needing it with your own lovely dress here. If you’ve no objections, I’ll take the lavender out now and ensure it is ready for dinner.”
She watched the young fox woman remove a beautiful, wisteria-colored gown from the trunk that was absolutely not hers.
“Here’s your letter, Miss.” Trilby removed an envelope from the trunk, and Eleanor was shocked that it did, in fact, bear her name.
My dearest Eleanor,