What the hell was he doing asking Linley to dinner?
Resting his hands on his bare chest, he wondered where he would even take her. The Savoy? He wrinkled his nose at the prospect. The Cavendish Hotel? No, not the Cavendish. Claridge’s, perhaps? Patrick sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. Yes, Claridge’s would do in a pinch.
***
“Oh my God!” Linley cried. “What do I wear?”
Berenice looked up at her from the paper she was reading. “Your nicest gown.”
“Will you be coming with us?”
“No,” Berenice said, resuming her place on the page.
Linley slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh my God!”
“A sudden case of the nerves, dear?”
“It’s…it’s just that I’ve never been to a really fancy restaurant before,” she replied. “What if I make a complete fool of myself?”
Again, Berenice looked up at her from the paper. “Then don’t go.”
Linley balked. “Cancel on the Marquess of Kyre? Have you lost your mind?”
The old woman shrugged. “Whatever you decide to do, you only have an hour to do it.” As if on cue, the hall clock chimed seven.
“Oh my God!” Running up the stairs to her room, she called for Clare the entire way. When she slipped through her door, she yanked the bell pull. “Clare!”
A breathless Clare fell into the room. “Miss?”
“I’m having dinner with Lord Kyre. He will be here in one hour!”
The maid waved her hands into the air. “Heavens! You go take your bath and I will find something for you to wear! Hurry, miss! Hurry!”
Even when she washed in crocodile infested waters, Linley was sure she’d never bathed so quickly. Dripping onto the carpets, she stood in the middle of her bedroom while Clare brushed out a tangle of long, brown hair.
“What time is it?” Linley asked.
“About half seven, miss.”
She blew out a sigh of relief. “We’ll have plenty of time.”
Clare did not answer, but tugged Linley’s hair into a twist and pinned it at the crown of her head.
“Ouch! Do you have to pull so hard?”
“It has to stay put all night,” the maid replied, jabbing another pin in for good measure. “Would you like to wear the jet bandeau, or leave it how it is?”
Linley studied her hair in the mirror. “Do the bandeau.”
With a nod, Clare pulled open the dressing table drawer and fished out the thick black headband. She carefully set it in place over Linley’s brow. “How is that, miss?”
“Oh! Perfect!” she replied, grinning. “Now for my dress. Which did you pick?”
Clare pointed to the freshly pressed black satin gown draped over the wardrobe door. Linley did not have many gowns, but that one was certainly the best. It was the one she intended to wear to her next ball, but since invitations never came, she never got the chance.
“You are a genius!” Linley said. “He will love it!”
“I don’t care if he loves it, it’s everyone else that matters. Once the other gentlemen see you on the arm of Lord Kyre, they’ll want to court you, too.”
Linley stood stock-still while Clare helped her into the long black corset and laced her up. Since she didn’t have a bosom to wrangle in, the process went by without any problems. After that came the dress. Clare slipped it over Linley’s head, careful not to disturb her coiffure.
Studying herself in the mirror, Linley turned to the left and right. The dress clung to what little curves she had, and the low V-neck showed off an attractive, freckled chest. Its satin panels draped around her legs, stopping just short of pooling on the floor.
“Oh, no!” Clare gasped.
Linley saw it, too. The front of the dress was too short! Her bare toes wiggled in plain sight. So did her ankles. “What are we going to do?”
“We don’t have time to press another dress! It’s ten ‘til!”
Linley’s eyes shot to the little clock on the mantle. “Damn. We’ll just have to make it work,” she said, swishing over to the wardrobe. Pulling out a pair of bright red silk Moroccan slippers, she yanked them onto her feet.
Clare’s hands went to her mouth. Against the black gown, the red shoes made quite a statement. “You look like a…a…”
“Don’t say it!” Linley said. “Just help me finish getting dressed.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Downstairs, Patrick stood in the foyer, tapping his black top hat against his thighs. No one even bothered to show him into the drawing room. It was obvious his presence was tolerated, but clearly not welcome. He pulled out his watch—eight o’clock. As soon as he shut it, the clock down the hall began to chime. Hopefully she wouldn’t keep him waiting too long.
Above him, he heard the clicking of heels on the hardwood floor, then the rustle of satin as someone descended the stairs. When he saw Linley, his top hat fell to the floor. She drifted down the stairs in a tight, black dress. The first thing he noticed was her smile. The next thing he noticed was her shoes.