Every fiber of her being yearned to do it. Seize the moment, her heart cried. Do asyouplease. Asyoudesire.
The clock told her she would have to hurry, but yes, she did have an option available to her. One far more exciting than a night at a backgammon board.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?”
* * *
Fleeing to her room, Prim rang for her maid and dropped down at her vanity. She reached for her brush and smoothed away some stray hairs, but the sight of herself in the mirror gave her pause.
Running a hand along the edge of her staid dinner dress’s squared neckline, she fingered the heavy metallic of the Grecian key embroidery. Even without the layer of antiqued lace beneath it that covered her from there up to the tight band around her neck, the décolletage was dowdy at best. The fabric was rich, the metallic insets embroidered on the front of the burgundy velvet gown and at the ends of the sleeves were the highest quality. There was even a dash of playfulness in the golden tassel fringe at the ends of the sash.
But it wasn’t right for an evening out at aclub. Or an evening out anywhere. It, like most of her wardrobe, had been purchased since she’d been widowed. In a year when she’d been active in the suffragette movement. There wasn’t a thing about most of her gowns that might be considered frivolous or even overly feminine.
She’d thought she had a point to make in presenting herself as dour and matronly as possible in her attempt to be seen as a self-sufficient widow, but she was only twenty-nine years old. Hardly in her dotage.
Tapping lightly on the door, her maid stuck her head in. “You rang, ma’am?”
“Yes, Nellie, I need to change to go out.”
“Of course.” Nellie moved efficiently to her wardrobe and flung it wide. “The taupe lace perhaps? Or the gray faille?”
“No, those won’t do.” She wanted…she wanted to look pretty tonight. Desirable even.
“Hmm, where are you off to? A salon or the theater?”
“Neither.” Prim drew in a deep breath. “Nellie, I need something I can wear to a night club.”
While her maid gaped at her as if she’d gone completely off her rocker, a flash of green caught Prim’s eye among the dreary browns and blahs of her closet. A green neither bright nor rich but so much more feminine than her normal apparel.
She hurried to the wardrobe and fingered the seafoam colored velvet skirt. Tugging it out farther, she then stroked the richly embroidered flowers of pink, fuchsia, and gold with crystal bead accents that covered the bottom third of the skirt. She pulled it all the way out and held it up against her body, running her trembling fingers over the crisscrossing bands of velvet and chiffon.
The neckline was low, the Chantilly lace sleeves hanging from satin bands at the very top of her arms. It was a tad nippy out to be wearing such a revealing gown. But a warm cape would fix that, and she’d never worn the lovely gown before.
She’d never dared.
“Oh, Mrs. Eames, really?” Nellie beamed at her, her hands clasped in excitement. It was only a reflection of Prim’s own. “Oh, we should change your hair also.”
“Then we need to hurry.”
CHAPTER 20
The very essence of romance is uncertainty.
~Oscar Wildefrom The Importance of Being Earnest
James ordered the cab to wait and dashed up the front steps of Prim’s townhouse. He’d had more than a dozen blocks in a slowly plodding carriage up 5thAvenue to imagine what awaited him.
Her butler would answer the door. He would either tell him flat out that Mrs. Eames was unavailable for the evening or hand him a note with her apologies.
She only asked him to ostensibly court her, to provide a reprieve from the pressure to remarry. Prim hadn’t asked him to change her life. Still, he’d pushed and pushed. Perhaps he’d pushed her too hard by asking her to visit an establishment so far out of her normal sphere.
If she did refuse to accompany him, it was just what he deserved. But he hoped not. It’d be bloody difficult to woo a woman into marriage who wouldn’t see him.
He rang the doorbell and stepped back.
Heavy footfalls sounded from within and neared. When the door opened, Banks appeared to be neither resolute nor even expectant as he’d imagined. Instead, there was a blank look on his face, quickly covered, that spoke of surprise, even bafflement.
His hopes fell. Prim hadn’t prepared an excuse or rejection. Had she simply hoped he wouldn’t show up at all?
