The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(38)

“I must tell you that I am looking forward to our musical evening tomorrow,” he added.

“So am I,” she told him without the tiniest doubt in her mind.

“Do you know who else will be attending?” she asked.

He mentioned a few names, but none of them were familiar to her. They spoke of Mrs. Pemberton's fondness for unsuitable colours and a number of other amusing points, but both agreed that she was a generous woman when it came to entertaining. The supper was guaranteed to be sumptuous.

Bathsheba's father returned and it was the signal for them to part company. Both were a little sorry because they had talked so easily that they hadn't noticed the time passing. It was going to be a long twenty-four hours until they met again.





Chapter 4


Bathsheba slept badly that night with visions of sailing the seven seas with swashbuckling pirates. The scenario was entertaining in itself, because she had never been on a ship before. The pirates might have been anybody; she didn't know any of the faces - except for one, who was definitely Mr. Hutton.

That wasn't what disturbed her sleep.

It was Mr. Hutton's obvious connection to her, his possessiveness of her. She was his woman; there was no doubt about that.

Upon waking in the morning, she was left feeling restless. It was a dream that had her desperately trying to remember how it had ended. She wasn't silly, though. It was like most dreams one had – interrupted. She felt cheated.

Peggy commented on her pale complexion, hinting her mistress looked tired.

“I really must have a nap this afternoon, Peggy, if I am to look decent for this evening.”

“Yes, Miss. I was going to suggest it anyway, especially as you're not accustomed to late nights. We don't want you wilting before any of the other 'moiselles. That Mr. Hutton strikes me as a prize worth having.”

“Don't be silly, Peggy. One evening out with the man hardly means I am competing for him or am serious about him.”


“Aren't cha, Miss? Could've fooled me.” Peggy chuckled.

“Peggy! I won't hear of such a thing, and please don't go spreading the idea around,” she chided. Bathsheba blushed.

“No, Miss. As you like.” Peggy had only been teasing but from Bathsheba's reaction alone, she could tell that she'd been right. Her mistress was smitten and, with good reason. He was a good-looking man and, from what was being said, wealthy too. He was a prize and perhaps she could help her mistress win him. Hmmm....





*


Bathsheba's nap hadn't really done much good. Her sea-faring escapade had continued, but it'd had nothing to do with her previous dream. She woke up more frustrated than rested.

Peggy had known how to put her in the right mood, however.

A bath with relaxing salts, which smelled of roses, did wonders. A shampoo with a light head massage, a soft towelling followed by a massage with Peggy's own special oil left her relaxed and drowsy. Peggy left her for a half hour before bringing her a tisane and sweet biscuits. The special treatment did its trick and she felt renewed.

By six o'clock, she was standing nervously in front of the cheval mirror wondering if she hadn't overdone it with the new dress. Thankfully, Peggy was there to 'ooh and ahh' and to generally make a fuss of her.

“You're a pure delight for the eyes, Miss. I'm sure all the gentlemen will be envious of Mr. Hutton.”

“Please, Peggy. Don't exaggerate. This is only a musical evening and, besides, I'm too old to imagine any such thing. I just hope that I do Mr. Hutton honour, and if so, I will be happy.”

Bathsheba rapidly turned to her right and then to the left just to make sure that the skirt hung properly, and then she sighed. It was a sigh of resignation. She mustn't read more into the evening if she didn't want to be disappointed.





Chapter 5


Mrs. Pemberton had exceeded herself with the event.

At least a hundred people had been invited and catered for. She really was an outstanding hostess, and somehow, her unflattering attire, which tonight was deep purple with a black fringe hanging from the strangest parts of her, had become an integral part of any of her evenings.

She greeted Alistair graciously and then turned to his companion.

“Why, I do believe that it is Bathsheba Baxter! What a pleasant surprise, my dear.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Pemberton. How amazing that you should recognise me. I'm flattered,” Bathsheba responded.

“You have grown into an attractive gel, ain't she, Mr. Hutton?” she prompted him but then didn't wait for his reaction.

“Of course, I would recognise you. You look so like your dear Mama that I hesitated for a second.”

“What a lovely thing to say. Mama was highly considered, I have heard. I would be happy to resemble her even the tiniest portion,” Bathsheba smiled.

“Enjoy yourself, my dear. We have an exceptional quartet playing this evening as well as the contralto, Mrs. Franks. I am sure Mr. Hutton will make sure you are perfectly at ease, won't you, Mr. Hutton?”

“Of course, Ma'am. I am most grateful for your 'do' as it has given me the opportunity to invite Miss Baxter to accompany me.” He smiled at both women and charmed them in doing so.

They wended their way upstairs to the double salon, which was impressively furnished with gilded chairs, each with a red cushion. Some seats had already been claimed but there were still guests milling around greeting one another. The musicians had already begun to prepare their equipment on a rostrum waiting for Mrs. Pemberton to give them the signal to begin.