A sultry groan sounded from deep inside his chest as he ended the kiss with a sorrowful smile. “I have to go.”
“We will continue this on Friday.” I opened the door and watched him disappear into the dimly lit hallway. A servant stood at the end of the corridor, and Noah’s admission whispered back to me. I had a queer man in my household who knew Noah’s secret and had kept it close to his chest. There was a chance someone might learn of my affair with Noah, and there was a chance they wouldn’t. Either way, I was rolling the dice with my fate.
Chapter Eighteen
Lady Amelia Brimley
“I am most anxious to see your lovely gown.” Mademoiselle Brigit, the modiste, moved to the elongated chest on the bench in my dressing room. Despite my mother’s protests, I was determined to wear the gown. True to his word, Oliver had sent Mademoiselle to help me alter the gown for our wedding.
Mademoiselle lifted the lid, and the faint scent of lilac drifted in the air from the sachet. The gown was wrapped in silk to preserve the fabric. She unfolded the fabric, and unexpected tears blurred my vision. The last time I’d seen the gown was on Sally’s wedding day. She’d been stunning in the ivory lace. Noah had worn his uniform, and the couple made a stunning picture. I envied her then, and I envied her now.
“Oh, what lovely Venetian lace, very exquisite,” Mademoiselle said. The older woman inspected the hand-woven fabric.
“Yes,” I managed to choke out of my tight throat. Noah had shunned my suggestion of marriage. Although it stung, I had to accept his decision. “It is quite lovely.”
She lifted the dress out of the chest by its shoulders. The skirt unfolded to the ground, followed by a heavy thump.
“What was that?” I asked, pausing in the process of removing my robe.
“It appears to be a book of some sort,” Mademoiselle said. She draped the dress over her arm, and the material moved to reveal the familiar embossed cover of Sally’s diary.
I reached down and snatched it up, my heart beating like a hummingbird. I’d been searching all over the house for it, and she’d tucked it into the chest with her wedding gown. With the volume in hand, I debated whether I should dismiss Mademoiselle or move forward with my fitting. I stared down at the book, my hands damp from the repercussions of my find. If I opened the cover and began to read, would it reveal the truth of Mother’s claim? Somehow reading it seemed wrong, yet I had to know the truth.
“Are you ready for your fitting, Lady Amelia?” Mademoiselle asked.
“Of course.” There wasn’t time to indulge my whim. I’d have to wait until I was alone before I could crack open the cover. I placed the journal on the chair by the window and draped my robe over it just in case we were interrupted. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to spy on me. She hadn’t been thrilled with my engagement, and when I brought up the subject of the gown after Oliver had left the previous night, she insisted I buy a new one. My father had stood up for me and ordered the gown sent to my room.
The dress had a full skirt and, clad in my chemise and pantaloons, I stepped into the tiered lace material. I’d dreamed of wearing this gown like my sister and mother before me. Mademoiselle pulled the bodice up, and I inserted my arms into the long, capped sleeves. I was instantly uncomfortable, and I was unsure why. The dress pulled at the bosom. Sally and my mother were slighter in that area and shared a similar-sized waistline. The dress was snug around my middle, adding to my disquiet. I gazed at myself in the full-length mirror, dissatisfied by what I saw. Perhaps my mother was right. Thegown wasn’t becoming on me at all. Where Sally was willowy, I was voluptuous. Would Noah compare me to his wife and find my figure unfavorable? I shook off the notion. Noah had said his piece.
Thoughts of Noah sent my gaze shooting to the diary hiding in the chair. By rights, I should disclose what I knew. Except I wasn’t sure if it was true or not. I only had Mother’s word but no proof. I had a sense the answer was in the journal.
“Can you lift your arms?” Mademoiselle asked, pin cushion in hand and a furrow between her brows.
I did as she instructed. She pulled at the back of the bodice and fitted it to my torso. A slow-moving panic traced a path along my nerves, and I felt trapped in the gown. I inhaled, the waistline digging into my stomach.
From the tugging sensations, Mademoiselle was pinning the back in place. The tighter she pulled, the more panicked I became.
A rush of air cut through the stuffy room, and I caught a glimpse of Ethan in the mirror. He tilted his head and grinned, rushing into the room. “Auntie Amelia.”
“Ethan, whatever are you doing in here? It isn’t proper for a gentleman to be in a lady’s room,” I said, the anxiety lessening at his entrance. He knew he wasn’t supposed to wander around the house alone, yet I was still pleased to see him. “Does Miss Penny know where you are?”
He offered a sheepish shrug and plucked at a stray thread on his sleeve, not looking at me. “Papa said I could play in the garden with you.”
Lately, the scamp had taken to lying to get his way. “Did he indeed?” I asked, calling his bluff.
