“I think my shift will do. Thank you.” She undid the buttons with ease before loosening my stays.
“Would you like me to take your hair down as well?”
“Yes, please.” She directed me toward the vanity, urging me into the seat in front of the mirror. One by one she worked the pins, baubles, and ribbons free, before taking the comb I had sent ahead and running it through my curls. Her efforts were gentle, sure, and so soothing. She finished up without a word, turning to leave.
“Anna?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“No need to put a notice out. If you’d like the promotion that is?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Have you any interest in the position of lady’s maid?”
“Of course, but I’m not qualified!”
“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not qualified to be a viscountess. I think we’re well-suited.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, as long as you call me Kate. I’d quite like for someone to still call me Kate.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t.”
“Please?”
“Yes, my—Kate.” She offered a quick curtsy before leaving me. At last unburdened by my gown and hair baubles and with the cloying scent slowly dissipating, I curled on the garish floral comforter and fell asleep.
Thirteen
GRAYSON HOUSE, LONDON - NOVEMBER 25, 1813
KATE
Far too soon,Anna returned. It was something of a shock that I slept at all, let alone as soundly as I had.
She suggested one of the least objectionable gowns that my aunt had allowed me to pack. It was simple and unadorned in navy with as modest a neckline as my ample chest would allow for. Unlike some of the others, it fit well enough that it wasn’t actively painful. That was not to say that it was flattering, but at least I wouldn’t spend the evening wishing to claw my skin off.
Anna then performed some sort of witchcraft with my hair. I had no idea how she pinned it, but it seemed less inclined to fall out immediately after she finished than it usually did.
“This is lovely, Anna, thank you. Or, I suppose, Hudson?”
“Anna is fine. Hudson may be confusing with Mama.”
“All right then. I suppose I’ve dawdled rather long enough, have I not?”
“Lady Grayson—the dowager viscountess—does value punctuality.”
“She is to dine with us then?”
Anna offered a sympathetic shrug in lieu of a response. I could do little more than sigh while trailing her along the unfamiliar halls. She deposited me just inside the garish drawing room. I was apparently the first to arrive.
Finally alone, I took a moment to inspect the place. It was filled with golds and bright reds as far as the eye could see. And a few forest green accents were added to the cacophony. Upon closer inspection, the gold detailing on the furnishings had worn poorly, it was faded and peeling at the edges. That was one of the many reasons I preferred natural finishes.
After less than a day it was already apparent that any attempts to redecorate would result in a battle with my predecessor. Still, I could not be expected to spend the rest of my life surrounded by this vulgar juxtaposition. I wandered over to the large window overlooking Park Street. The view, at least, was pleasant.
The curtains, likely once a fashionable, if discordant, brocade, were faded and threadbare in places. It seemed they, too, were chosen with style, rather than durability or longevity, in mind. I hoped that was not a precedent I would be expected to maintain. I could not see myself choosing something of questionable quality simply because it was fashionable—such a thing was too wasteful to consider.
