Page 17 of Unmask Me My Love

Horace grinned at her and held his arms out. “It looks that way, does it not? However, the truth is that, as I told you, my master is a follower of Beau Brummel. As such, he seldom wears a suit more than two or three times. Then he gives the clothing to me or to another servant so they can sell them and use the money as extra income.” His eyes twinkled. “Fortunately for me, my master and I are about the same size, so I have managed to accumulate quite a wardrobe of my own.”

“You are the fortunate one.” Gabriella smiled at him. Some people were certainly more blessed than others when it came to their masters. “Lady Chalgrove wears her clothing many times then has me remake them into new gowns. I doubt she will give them away until they are little more than rags.”

Not that she would wear any of madame’s gowns. Her figure was fine, except for her bosoms, but Gabriella would never wish to wear the woman’s cast-off clothing. Her taste in fabrics was questionable at best—some of the garish colors made Gabriella wince as she dressed Madame.

“Then I assume this beautiful gown is one of your own?” His admiring gaze made Gabriella’s cheeks heat.

“Oui. I made it myself before I left France.” She cut a glance at him. “For just such an occasion as this.”

Horace beamed at her and offered his arm. “Shall we stroll across the bridge and down the canal?”

She looped her hand through his elbow, and they mounted the stairs leading onto the curious wooden bridge painted a bright yellow. “A Chinese bridge is a strange thing to have in an English park, n’est-ce pas?”

“Oh, the English are famous for loving the odd and unusual.” Horace chuckled. “We must go to Vauxhall Gardens sometime, and you can see the Turkish Tent, the Chinese Temples, the Cascades, the Orchestra, and so many more oddities.”

They ambled over the bridge, one couple among the throng of people enjoying the excellent weather. As they reached the middle of the bridge, Horace gestured upward. “Until a few years ago, there was a seven story Chinese pagoda built in the center of the bridge.”

Gabriella peered up, but there was nothing to be seen but the cloudless sky. “What happened to it?”

“There was a grand fireworks display in August of 1814 that caught the pagoda on fire, and it went up in flames.” He walked over to the side of the bridge. “If you look over here at the side of the bridge, you can still see streaks of soot ingrained into the wood.”

Gabriella peered over the railing and, bien sur, there were the dark lines snaking alongside the wooden panels. “Mon Dieu! Comme c’est tragique.” She turned to Horace. “Were there lives lost in this fire?”

He nodded and started them toward the far end of the bridge. “Two carpenters were killed. But it could have been much worse.”

They reached the opposite bank and turned to the right, threading through the crowds, Gabriella brooding over the tragedy. But she didn’t wish this day to turn gloomy. Her first free day should be celebrated. At the very least, it required her thanks. “I must thank you for persuading Lady Chalgrove to allow me to come here today.” She gazed up at him, her curiosity sharp. “How on earth did you manage it?”

He chuckled. “As I said, Lady Celinda is very indebted to me for a service I did for her. So I asked her to bring Lady Chalgrove’s attention to a little-known law that says any time off a servant is entitled to but does not receive must be paid the equivalent in cash when the servant leaves their employ.”

Gabriella’s brows rose. “This is the English law?”

“Well,” Horace leaned down and whispered, “perhaps it should be.”

“Lady Celinda lied to Madame?” Gabriella’s mouth fell open. “C’est incroyable!”

“The lady was incensed when I told her what your mistress was doing to you. She had no compunction about telling a small lie to help you.” Horace chuckled again. “I think she enjoyed it.”

“I must thank her when I meet her.” Gabriella smiled. Horace wasn’t the only kind person in England. “Has she said yet when I am to meet the duke?”

Horace shook his head. “She hasn’t spoken with Rother yet, but as soon as she informs me that she has, I will let you know. Hopefully, she can arrange it for next Sunday. That way we know you will be free.”

“You truly believe Madame will allow me to have every Sunday afternoon off?” Given her knowledge of the woman, Gabriella would not wager a sou on that.

“Trust me. I wouldn’t be surprised if you begin to have full days off each month, my dear.” Horace led them to a bench strategically placed in front of a particularly picturesque spot on the canal. “Why don’t we sit here for a few minutes and admire the view?”

Gabriella nodded and sank down gratefully. The sun was warmer than she’d anticipated. “It is beautiful here, n’est-ce pas?”

“Yes, it certainly is.” The valet’s gaze, however, was trained on her, not the water.

Cheeks glowing with warmth, and not due to the sun, Gabriella glanced away, wishing for a fan.

“I wanted to meet you today to find out more about you. I feel that I know you quite well, but truly I know very little, save that you are from France and are a lady’s maid.” He took her hand. “Can you tell me more about you, about your family?”

“You wish to know about my family?” She stared at him curiously.

“Of course I do. Where you grew up in France, your brothers and sisters.” He gazed earnestly into her eyes. “I told you the other night I wished to know everything about you.”

Somewhat mollified, Gabriella began. “I grew up in Paris, in the house of a wine merchant. It was a small shop, but it was always home.”