Inclining her head ever so slightly in return, she was dumbfounded when the gentleman apparently took that inclination as an invitation to approach her, but before he had the opportunity to join her, she turned on a sparkly heel and bolted after a crowd of guests being led down the hallway by a man who seemed to be the underbutler.
Ignoring the curious looks sent her way when she slipped into the midst of the crowd, she turned her full attention to the underbutler, hoping that he’d be generous with information regarding the grand house, especially the second floor they were now viewing, which Permilia soon learned was the living quarters of Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt.
Fanning a face that was still a little heated over her almost encounter with a smiling gentleman, Permilia soon found herself distracted from her flustered state of mind by the underbutler’s knowledge of the new Vanderbilt house. To her absolute delight, when she followed the man through a door that was framed with elaborate moldings, she found herself smack-dab in the middle of Alva Vanderbilt’s boudoir.
Knowing this was a place very few people would ever get to see, she tried to drink everything in, especially the bathing chamber that came complete with a large marble tub and risqué paintings hanging from the walls. Additional paintings of the risqué sort were prevalent in the bedchamber as well as in Alva’s private sitting room. Ducking into a shadowed corner to make a few notes on another dance card, she tucked that card back in the muff, but lifting her head, she found that while she’d been distracted, the underbutler had led everyone else out of the room. Not wanting to be found all alone in a place she shouldn’t be alone in, she hurried out of Alva Vanderbilt’s private quarters, quickly catching up with the crowd.
Falling into step with society members who were all attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, even though it was likely the majority of them were practically bursting with the extravagance of the evening, Permilia followed them up another flight of stairs.
When she reached the top of those stairs, she discovered herself in the midst of a gymnasium that had been turned into a delightful tropical forest. It was filled to the brim with ferns and flowers that the underbutler explained had been fashioned under the watchful eye of renowned florist Mr. Charles Klunder. As Permilia moved away from the tour, she heard whispers speculating that the display must have cost more than most men earned in a year . . . or ten.
Pushing aside the discomfort that idea evoked, Permilia began strolling as casually as she could, slowing to a stop when her attention was drawn to a gentleman dressed as a dashing Richard Coeur de Lion. To her utmost confusion, that gentleman sent her a very warm smile right before he sent her a rather roguish wink.
Unable to recall a single time when she’d received a wink, Permilia felt heat begin traveling up her neck.
Knowing full well she’d be less than attentive to her mission at hand if she continued to draw such unexpected attention, Permilia pulled her gaze from the winking gentleman, and, as discreetly as possible, looked over the front of her gown, surprised to discover that everything seemed to be in proper order. Not one button was undone, nor was her neckline askew, which made it even more confusing to understand the attention that kept being directed her way.
Lifting her head, her gaze returned to the winking gentleman and found him now heading her way, carrying two glasses of what appeared to be champagne.
That sight had any thought of proper decorum vanishing straightaway. Abandoning all the many rules her stepmother had drummed into her about walking in a slow and dignified manner, Permilia spun around and dashed away into the crowd, earning more than a few raised eyebrows but thankfully losing the smiling-and-beverage-carrying gentleman in the process.
Needing to find a place to collect her scattered thoughts, Permilia breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted some large ferns. Hurrying their way, she disappeared into the fronds.
What she found on the other side of those fronds had her skidding to a stop, unable to help but smile at the sight that greeted her.
Sitting on what appeared to be an overturned log and looking more forlorn than usual were two fellow wallflowers—Miss Gertrude Cadwalader and Miss Temperance Flowerdew.
That they did not appear to be pleased to be in the midst of Alva Vanderbilt’s ball was certainly an understatement. Taking a step closer to them, Permilia suddenly found herself at a complete loss for words when she got her first good look at Gertrude.
She didn’t know Gertrude well, even though she’d frequently sat beside her at one society event or another over the years. The reasoning behind that lack of familiarity was a direct result of the unspoken rules wallflowers were expected to adhere to at all times.