“And your guest? Mr. Spencer?”
Miss White would be contrite. “My apologies, my lady, was I not supposed to bring him? He would not have been pleased if I had come on my own.”
“Why did he choose you?”
Mary laughed, easily slipping from one reaction to the next, her character firmly in place. “La! Whatever attracts a man to a woman? Desire, I suppose.” She winked.
Lady Kerr stepped closer to the brass tub, her gaze darkening ominously. “Are you a spy?”
Mary thought quickly. She widened her eyes and dropped her jaw in apparent shock. The tingling warning of danger travelled up her spine, and apprehension filled her heart. “A spy! I promise you, my lady, I would never divulge your delightful décor ideas to another’s household. Or perhaps you dread my telling others of your cook’s delicious desserts?” She contrived a convincing expression of honest concern. “Truly, I do not have many acquaintances among the women of the gentry. I would never reveal your household secrets. I swear it!”
A dangerous smile began to form on the lady’s lips. “I see I was mistaken. My apologies for interrupting your bath, Miss White.”
She turned on her slippered toes and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. Mary’s eyes narrowed. The lady had tried startling a confession out of Mary, but Mary was not easily rattled. Astonished, yes, at the woman’s daringly direct question, but certainly not rattled. In fact, she now felt more determined than ever to uncover the traitors among these guests, and to investigate Lady Kerr in particular. The woman was a traitorous villain, and Mary would find proof, not only for the sake of King and Country, but to prove to Gabriel that she was as capable an agent as any man.
She rose from the bath and hastily dried herself, then pulled the costume from where it hung in the wardrobe and draped it across the foot of the bed. Mary slipped the scanty purple drawers up her legs; though they should hardly be considereddrawers, andscantywas a word not strong enough to describe the small patch of fabric with thin, corded rope holding the material together. Mrs. McPhee must have designed them as a way to cover her most private area without requiring a large bolt of material wrapped around her hips, but the revealing nature of them was shocking, even to Mary.
She gazed at her reflection in the looking glass. Indeed, it perfectly hid the pertinent parts. Although the edges of herderrièrepoked out from beneath the material over her bottom, the fit was superb.
Her bodice—if one could call it that; “Modesty patches” was a better description—was simply two round patches of the same purple cotton, just enough to cover the circular dials of her nipples, held together with material that had been woven into a thin rope to wrap twice around her ribcage and knot in the front. It was scarcely enough fabric to keep her from being entirely nude, but for her purposes and the sake of their assignment, Mary would wear the revealing costume.
Mrs. McPhee had outdone herself with the detail. Mary scarcely knew how she had accomplished such a feat with only a fortnight to work.
Reaching for the first and second of five silver chains, Mary fastened them around her hips, hundreds of small coinsjinglingandclinkingas she did and gasped at the coldness of the metal as it touched her warm skin.
The third chain was fastened just under her breasts, as it was meant to dangle just below the layers of bodice that she was to wear. Next, she donned layer after layer of sheer royal purple skirts. The thin, transparent skirts were meant to come off one layer at a time as she danced, slowly revealing her body beneath, until only one thin skirt remained.
She smiled at her reflection. Once she had completed dressing, had done her hair, and had darkened her eyes with charcoal, her costume would have the precise impact for which she had aimed. Bravura.
