Page 9 of Unmask Me My Love

“You do think that is her real reason for wanting to meet the duke, don’t you, Hal? A childhood dream?” A trickle of doubt colored her words as they passed over the threshold.

“What else could it be?” Hal only half-listened, checking the crowd for his lady’s maid and anticipating his next meeting with her. With Gabriella. Her name tasted like a delicate pastry in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Extortion, perhaps?”

Hal stopped, a smile frozen on his face.

Celinda dipped a curtsy and continued toward the side of the ballroom where Miss Locke stood alone, peering about.

With a low curse, Hal strode toward the main part of the house in search of a much-needed brandy.

****

By the time Gabriella reached the guest chamber assigned to her mistress, she knew she was too late.

La comtesse’s raised voice sounded through the thick, oak-paneled door. “Where is Gabriella?”

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Where have you been, you stupid girl?” The countess’s screeching made Gabriella flinch. “I told you specifically to stay here so I could find you if I needed you.” She pointed to the skirt of her deep green gauze gown. The bottom row of ruffled flounces had come loose, drooping almost until it touched the floor. “You must fix this immediately. When you are finished, you are not to stir from this room until the ball is over. Do you understand?” She glared at Gabriella, who dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Oui, madame.” She ran to the dressing room and grabbed her sewing chest. “If you will stand still, madame, I will fix it tout de suite.” Gabriella sat on the floor at her mistress’s feet. Bad luck that the repair must be done in the front of the gown. She must sew with the tiniest stitches so they would not show. This would take more time, during which la comtesse would undoubtedly voice her displeasure. She knotted the silk thread and began. “Has madame enjoyed herself so far this evening?”

“I would be there enjoying myself this minute had you been here when I arrived.” The countess stamped her foot, jerking the fabric out of Gabriella’s hands.

“Please, madame. You must remain still if you wish me to be quick.” She gathered the green gauze once more and started to stitch again. “So you have danced much? Only a woman of your grace and beauty could have secured so many partners in a room filled to bursting with ladies.”

“How do you know how full the ballroom is?” Lady Chalgrove pounced as quickly as a striking snake.

“I went down the corridor to the small balcony that overlooks the ballroom. I wanted to see the English lords and ladies.” Gabriella poked the needle through the layers of soft fabric, unconcerned. “I particularly wanted to see what the English ladies are wearing this season. You have bought that printed silk and asked me to make it up for your trip to Vauxhall Gardens next week. I wished to look at the newest fashions, so I may make certain madame is très jolie for her outing.”

“Well, I suppose that is a reasonable excuse.” Lady Chalgrove sniffed and looked over at her toilette table. “But I hope you saw something that will suit me, because you must remain here for the rest of the evening. I pray that wretched Mr. Calhoun does not come near me again. He is the one who stepped on my gown and pulled the flounce loose.” Her mistress moved toward the table, pulling the fabric out of Gabriella’s hands once more.

“Madame!”

The countess shrugged and dabbed perfume behind her ears and down her décolletage.

Quel dommage there was not more there to work with.

Gabriella ran her hands across the carpet, searching for the needle. “If you wish to return to the ballroom in haste, madame, you must allow me to do my work.” She found the needle, threaded it, and began the repair again.

“Can you not hurry?” Lady Chalgrove picked up the hand mirror, turning it back and forth, preening while Gabriella finished mending the flounce. “I am to dance again with the Duke of Rother, and I will not keep him waiting.”

“Ouch.” Gabriella stuck the needle into her finger, drawing a bright drop of blood.

“Stupid girl. Do not smear blood on my gown.” The countess continued to gaze at herself in the mirror, smiling first one way then another.

“Oui, madame.” Gabriella stuck her finger in her mouth then continued with the gown.

“His Grace is now searching for a bride, so say the latest on-dits.” She laughed into the mirror, looking like nothing so much as a monkey in a menagerie. “With a little luck, he may choose me, if I can only capture his attention. Are you finished?”

“Oui, madame.”

The countess stormed out of the chamber without a backward glance.

Gabriella remained on the floor, trying to fit this newest information into her plan. She must accomplish her goal before Lady Chalgrove could snare the man. She shuddered to think what madame would do if she discovered her maid had a scheme of her own regarding the Duke of Rother.

She sent a swift prayer to St. Christopher, patron saint of pilgrims, to speed her on her way to a successful completion of her journey.