“Aunt Nellie will not approve, miss.”
“Then tell her I have a headache and am going to bed early.” Reese folded her arms.
The poor girl looked worried.
“You won’t get in trouble.” Reese felt a little bad, but not enough to put her life at risk. “Hasn’t Nellie had problems with guests from the future before?”
“Aye, miss, she has.”
“All right, then,” Reese said. “This is nothing new. Let’s do this.”
She suffered through the rest of the dressing. When the maid slid the burgundy top gown over the white, ruffled undergown, Reese couldn’t help being impressed with the workmanship. She couldn’t remember when the sewing machine had been invented, but the dress she wore was hand sewn.
The maid went to work lacing the back. She cinched it so tight, Reese wondered if it was the girl’s passive-aggressive way of punishing her. Whatever.
“See?” Reese asked when the maid had finished. “No one will know I don’t have a corset on.” She frowned at how deep the bodice’s V-neck went and tapped her cleavage. “Is there something you can do for this?”
“I don’t understand, miss.”
“I don’t want to show so much skin,” Reese said.
“But, my lady, this style is all the rage, and you have the perfect figure for it. I know many young ladies who would wish for such a figure as yours.”
“I don’t care. I get some coverage, or I don’t go.” If she had to be pigheaded about it, she would.
“I will find a seamstress, miss.” The girl heaved an exaggerated sigh and left the room.
Reese sat at the dressing table and waited. The servants certainly did drama just fine in 1850. She wondered if Lulu would ask to be assigned to someone else. Did servants of faerie guardians have more say than regular servants of this time?
The door opened and the maid slipped in, followed by an older woman wearing an irritated expression and carrying a basket.
“This is Davies, miss.” The maid gave a quick curtsy and stepped back.
The short dressmaker strode forward with an in-control manner that reminded Reese of Edna Mode from the movieThe Incredibles, minus the cigarette holder. Davies stopped in front of Reese and scrutinized the dress.
“If you are here to acquire a husband,” she gave the sleeves a slight tug, exposing more of Reese’s shoulders, “you must display your womanly figure.”
Reese tensed and had to bite back a retort. She took a deep breath and said in a level voice, “I’d have to wear a burka to hide my ‘womanly figure.’”
“Burka?” Davies squinted at her, distracted from studying the dress.
“It’s something some Muslim women wear.”
“The Moors?” Davies made a disparaging sound. “Their ways are not our ways. In this house, we abide by Aunt Nellie’s wishes.”
Reese explained about the problem with the neckline.
Davies sent the maid a sharp glance, and the girl looked stricken. “A simple scarf would not do for a ball gown,” Lulu said, “and miss refuses to attend in the dress as it is.”
“Blame me, not her,” Reese said.
Davies pinched her lips but didn’t argue. From the basket, she removed a pretty length of white, layered lace about three inches wide. It had decorative baubles strategically placed along the edge and ribbon at the end. The dressmaker basted it in place above the neckline with quick movements before tying the ribbon in a small bow. She gave a little flick of her fingers, and some glittery dust flew off. A little tingle raced across Reese’s skin wherever it came in contact with the lace.
She touched the fabric and blinked at her reflection. The white lace had turned a darker shade of the same burgundy as in the gown.
“How did you—” Reese’s stomach gave a little lurch. “You’re a faerie?”
“Aye.” Davies put her tools back in the basket and left the room.
