“Like asses, men can be stubborn creatures and sometimes need to be led. If you wish to encourage Mr. Chen’s attentions—”
“I do,” Glory said earnestly. “Ever so much.”
“You may have to work at it,” Fi warned.
“I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”
“Then you’ve come to the right lady.” Fi gave Glory’s hand a confident squeeze. “I’ll show you what worked with my husband. If you follow my guidance, I guarantee that you will have Mr. Chen at your feet in no time.”
Fifteen
Awaiting Mr. Chen’s arrival the next day, Glory paced the music room, FF II hopping at her heels. She thought the space with its soaring ceiling, wood floors, and mirrored walls would be an ideal setting for her first lesson. She paused in front of one of the mirrored panels to check her appearance. Seeing the wide-eyed and uncertain lady who looked back, she felt a nervous flutter.
She consulted FF II. “Do you think Fi knows what she’s doing?”
The ferret twitched his nose and cocked his head.
Glory sighed. “I am not certain her plan is going to work either.”
A true sister in spirit, a yawning Fi had arrived early this morning to help Glory prepare for her lesson with Mr. Chen. Fi had rummaged through Glory’s entire wardrobe before choosing the present coral-colored walking dress with an elongated bodice and fluffy skirts.
“But this dress is too restrictive for practicing kung fu,” Glory had protested as Elsie laced her up. “How am I supposed to run, punch, and kick?”
“Needs must. I am certain you’ll find a way.” Fi’s reply had been a bit tart for she wasn’t an early riser. “It is not as if we have time to order a new frock from Mrs. Quinton.”
A famed modiste, Mrs. Q was a close friend of Charlie’s who did special work for the Angels. The gowns she’d designed for Glory were beautiful and allowed for freedom of movement, but Glory had always chosen more modest styles, which Fi had ruled out for the occasion of seducing Master Chen.
“The color of this dress is perfect for you,” Fi declared. “The coral shade brings out the red in your hair and the blush in your cheeks. All we need to do is alter the neckline a little.”
By “alter,” Fi had meant “lower” and by “little,” she had meant “a lot.”
Glory blushed at the amount of skin exposed by the newly sloping vee of her neckline. The center dip showed a hint of the shallow crevice between her bosoms. When she had protested that the dress was too revealing, Fi had pinned a rose at the lowest point.
“There,” Fi had said. “That covers everything.”
Looking at her reflection, Glory feared the rose might do the opposite and bring attention to how uncovered her breasts presently were. It didn’t help that Fi had instructed Elsie to style her hair in a more sophisticated fashion than usual. Dispensing with Glory’s sensible topknot, Elsie had created a looser style. The front of Glory’s hair was tied back with black velvet ribbon whilst the rest hung in loose, flowing curls.
Feeling the silky, unaccustomed brush of hair against her bare shoulders, Glory shivered. She didn’t look or feel like herself. But if she wanted Mr. Chen to see her as a woman, then perhaps this was a good thing?
Fi’s parting instructions rang in her head.
“While looks are important, you must also act like a lady who is confident in her charms,” her friend had instructed. “Try the suggestions I gave you, and remember that flirtation is an art form. When done properly, the object of your interest doesn’t even know it is happening, only that he is falling irrevocably under your spell.”
If only it were that easy.
As Glory mentally reviewed Fi’s tips—which could have filled an encyclopedia—the knock on the door made her jump. She glanced at the clock. Dash it all, where had the time gone? She’d spent all morning getting ready only to be caught unprepared when her guest arrived.
She dashed to the settee. Fi had advised her on the specific pose to adopt, but in her panicked state, she couldn’t replicate it. There had been a lot of talk about achieving the perfect angle between sitting and reclining…some posture Fi called “languid repose.” Throwing herself upon the cushions, Glory did her best.
Aunt Patty entered, followed by Mr. Chen. Glory’s belly flipped at his undeniable virility. His somber clothes hugged his lean form, his thick hair gleaming. He moved with that innate self-assurance that she could only admire.
“Since I was headed this way, I told Greaves I would take Mr. Chen in…” Her aunt trailed off, peering at her with a frown. “Are you unwell, my dear?”
“No,” Glory said. “Why would you ask?”
“Because you are lying down in the middle of the day.”
Drat. So much for the languid repose.
