Lady In Waiting Part 9

Not a full day later, the opportunity to wear the midnight-blue evening gown presented itself. Lady Viola had extended an invitation to Lord Argyll to join her and her sister, Meredith and Lady Genevieve in their private box at the Theatre Royal.

While Jenny had certainly seen the theatre's imposing entrance on Beaufort Square, she never dreamed she would ever attend a performance there. Let alone in a gown that could have inspired an entire page of description in La Belle a.s.semblee.

That night, their party entered the Feathertons' private box, one of only twenty-six, Jenny noted proudly, through a private home adjoining the theatre. A suite of retiring rooms, including a saloon, adjoined the private box to ensure the occupants complete and luxurious comfort.

In fine gentlemanly fashion, Lord Argyll a.s.sisted the two Featherton ladies to their seats. Within an instant, Lady Let.i.tia's plump finger directed Meredith to sit between them, a measure no doubt intended to more easily monitor the untamed young lady's conduct.

Only then did Jenny realize that she and Callum were to sit behind the others, quite out of sight of the Feathertons' watchful eyes.

Had this been any other eve, this situation would have suited Jenny quite nicely. But not tonight. Despite the fact that she was clothed in the most exquisite gown in Bath, Callum had hardly glanced at her.

It wasn't hard to discern why, after their emotional exchange at the abbey. Still, understanding his reasoning did nothing to make his inattention easier to bear. For now, when she craved his notice more than ever, he was all but ignoring her.

Ridiculous tears began to fill Jenny's eyes, and she turned away from the viscount, pretending to peer through the gilt lattices separating the Featherton box from the next. But when the play began, this ploy was no longer feasible, and she focused her blurred eyes on the cast-iron pillars at the edges of the box. Soon, her tears threatened to breach her lower lashes and she was all but forced to study the fancifully painted ceiling in order to maintain her dignity.

Bah! Why was she acting so foolishly? She should just wipe her eyes and concentrate on the stage play. After all, she'd never seen one before, and it would serve her well to imbibe a little culture, now wouldn't it?

And so, without looking away from the ceiling, she loosened the cinch of her reticule, and jammed her fingers inside for her handkerchief. Unfortunately, her new and therefore rather stiff kid gloves made her perception by touch virtually nonexistent and she was forced to peel down one glove and remove it completely to accomplish her aim.

Then he touched her.

Callum's own bared hand grasped hers and squeezed it rea.s.suringly. Without thinking of the tears poised in her eyes, she tore her gaze from the ceiling and looked at him with astonishment.

With the downward momentum, two heavy droplets spilled over and splashed her cheeks.

Suddenly Callum held his own square of linen before her, and she took it gratefully. It felt warm in her hand and she pressed it to her eyes to dry them.

Oh, no.

He didn't take it from his... Jenny glanced sidelong in time to see Argyll fastening the sterling buckle upon his sporran. Oh Lord above, he did.

When she looked up again, she saw that he had followed her wayward gaze. He grinned at her, and ran his thumb along the side of her hand.

Jenny gasped, a tiny bit too loudly, for Meredith glanced over her shoulder at them, and upon seeing their bare hands clasped, let out a giggle.

Blood coursed beneath Jenny's skin into her cheeks, heating them, and she knew for certain that even in the low light, her face was aglow with embarra.s.sment.

This was too much to endure. And here she had such high hopes for her lovely evening at the theatre.

Now there was no question. She had to leave her seat to compose herself, if only for a few minutes. Jenny glanced behind her at the rear opening of the box and plotted her escape. No one will mind at all, she told herself. I'll come right back. I just need a few moments alone to collect my wits, that's all.

"Excuse me, will you?" she muttered as she replaced Callum's hand to his knee. Before he could stand, she slipped quietly from the box.

Jenny wandered aimlessly through the anterooms until she found a small saloon outside what she took to be the ladies' withdrawing room. As she closed her eyes and exhaled, she allowed herself to fall into a high winged-back chair where she planned to spend the next five minutes trying to clear her muddled senses and return a modic.u.m of normalcy to her life.

"It's very hard to obtain," came a woman's voice from behind the chair. From the volume, Jenny determined they must be standing just inside the withdrawing-room door.

"I've managed only one pot of the peppermint cream, but that was only because I told my housekeeper I would pay up to ten guineas if needed."

Jenny straightened her back in her chair and her eyes went wide. She'd pay a tenner? And here she was only charging one.

"Well, I simply must have a pot," came another female voice.

"You know, it's rumored that the cream is made by a grand lady. Lady Eros, the service staff calls her. I've heard, from a very reliable source, mind you, that the herbs she uses for the extract can only be harvested when the moon is full. That's what gives it such power to... you know... excite. Unfortunately, that's also why the love cream is so hard to acquire."

I only harvest it by the light of the full moon? Jenny laughed softly to herself. She had to hand it to the service staff, they were a creative lot. A grimace took hold of her mouth then. And a greedy lot too. Ten guineas.

Well, maybe it was time to raise the price. She'd have to think on that one.

Lud, she wasn't about to stay up all night for a measly guinea if the Quality were willing to pay ten! Or... would they pay even more?

Jenny came to her feet, rounded the chair, and opened the door to the withdrawing room. "I beg your pardon, but I couldn't help hear you both discussing the cream... err... the Lady Eros cream."

The two matrons looked at Jenny with suspicion.

Jenny turned abruptly, purposely sending her skirts swirling about her legs in hopes that the sight of their beauty and quality would convince the ladies that she was... well, their equal. "I just wondered, do you think if I offered... perhaps fifteen guineas, that I might be able to acquire a pot?"

"But, dear," the older of the two women began, "why do you need the cream? Surely one so young as you-"

Raising her hand, Jenny quieted her and whispered her reply confidentially. "Oh, then you've not heard? It works its magic on gentlemen too."

Both women's eyes grew large as they exchanged excited grins.

"No, we hadn't heard," the younger of the two said. "But I thank you for sharing that keen bit of information." She turned to her companion. "My William could certainly use a touch of the cream. Do you think your gel can find me a jar?"

"I don't know, but I can ask. I've often wondered why the pots can only be purchased through those in service. You don't suppose they are stealing them?"

As the ladies turned away and started toward their box, Jenny asked herself that very question. If the pots of cream were so coveted, perhaps she should consider asking Mr. Bartleby to sell them for her at his shop on Milsom Street.

Then maybe she wouldn't have footmen and maids dropping stones in her basket at all hours of the day and night. For, if that kept up, the Feathertons were bound to learn of her secret.

Jupiter.

Chapter Seven.

"You rang for me, my ladies?" Jenny stood motionless and tried very hard to focus on the Featherton sisters instead of on her mother who stood alongside the breakfast table with a steaming pot of chocolate in her grip.

"Yes, gel." Lady Let.i.tia lowered The Bath Herald to the table and laid her lorgnette atop it. "Sister and I were just discussing a most interesting mention in the on-dit column this morn. The *Strange But True' column... you know, the one written by the secret columnist."

"R-really, my lady?"

"Indeed. And due to your own stillroom activities, we thought you might find it of interest." Lady Let.i.tia lifted her lorgnette again and with a shake repositioned the newspaper before her eyes.

"According to a certain Lady D. and a Lady A., Bath's Quality, and indeed Cheltenham's as well, have fallen under the spell of a mysterious creme d'amour reportedly produced by one of their own, a well-respected yet anonymous peer who has chosen to be known simply as *Lady Eros.' Who is this lady, this columnist begs to inquire, and what is the magical ingredient of this sought-after tingling cream that transforms ladies and gentlemen alike into Lady Eros's all-too-willing subjects?"

Jenny inadvertently stole a glance at her mother, whose face had become as snowy as the linen cloth upon the table.

Lady Let.i.tia lowered the paper and looked up at Jenny too.

"I-I don't know what to say, my ladies," Jenny stammered.

"We thought this tingling cream sounded quite a lot like your peppermint facial balm," Lady Viola twittered.

"D-did you?" Jenny swallowed deeply.

The chocolate pot began to shake noticeably in her mother's hand. "Ah, more chocolate, my ladies?" she asked, as if that small interruption would rescue Jenny from this disaster. As if anything could!

With a flick of her hand, Lady Let.i.tia waved Mrs. Penny away. "Like the columnist, we too want to know what extracts and oils are used in the cream. We've tried to acquire a pot, and have used the prescribed channels."

"Indeed," Lady Viola offered. "We've put both Edgar and your mother to the task, but thus far we have been unable to locate a single pot."

"A-are you asking me to locate a pot for you, my ladies?" Jenny asked, hoping to divert any blame from herself.

"Yes, but there is more," Lady Viola said in a confidential tone. The old woman beckoned Jenny closer and closer still until there was less than a teacup's width between them. "We'd like you to find a pot, but then we'd like you to break it down into its components to discover its receipt."

"Ohhh, I see."

Lady Let.i.tia broke in. "Then we'd like you to make up a couple of pots... for Sister and me. Of course, your activities must not be disclosed. For the cream, you realize, is meant to be used... below stairs, if you take my meaning."

Jenny nodded uncomfortably. "I do indeed, my lady. You can count on my discretion."

Lady Viola smiled broadly. "Well, then, it's settled. How soon can you begin?"

"Right away, my lady." Then Jenny lifted a wry brow. "But then... I already have so much to accomplish today, what with Miss Meredith's ironing needin' to be done... and her slippers needin' to be cleaned... oh, and the mending."

Lady Viola lifted a diminutive silver bell from beside her bread plate, and rang it.

Responding to the summons, Mr. Edgar walked into the room, then smiled brightly at Lady Viola, who, even beneath her face powder, blushed becomingly.

"Jenny will be relieved of her duties today, and tomorrow as well," the frail old woman told him.

Jenny did not miss the grimace on both Mr. Edgar's and her mother's faces.

"Tomorrow... as well?" Jenny asked, trying to disguise the smile on her mouth. Why, things were turning out quite well, weren't they now?

Lady Let.i.tia smiled up at her. "Indeed, gel. After so enjoying himself at the Theatre Royal"-she bobbled her eyebrows meaningfully at Jenny-"Lord Argyll has invited us all to join him tomorrow for a day jaunt to Dyrham Park and, if the weather warms as predicted, an alfresco nuncheon as well."

Lord Argyll said he enjoyed himself? At the thought of him, Jenny got a warm tingling feeling all over, almost as though she'd used a dab of cream.

Yes, after making a complete goose of herself last eve at the Theatre Royal, she could make good use of a casual outing with Callum to rework her dropped st.i.tches.

"I was thinking, child, that Meredith's lavender from last season might be just the frock for the occasion," Lady Viola added. "She gave it to you, did she not?"

Jenny began to pick at her cuticle as she thought about it. The frock was next door with Molly being reworked. She supposed it was possible the sewing girl would have it pieced by now. She did seem quite anxious for the guinea Jenny had promised her for the work.

"So much to do, isn't there?" Jenny gave an exaggerated sigh. "But I'll manage it somehow, my lady, for a fine idea it is indeed."

As antic.i.p.ated, the day was exceedingly mild, and felt to Jenny more like an early spring day than one of midwinter.

As Lord Argyll's sumptuous town carriage roared down the dusty road, closely followed by the Feathertons' carriage, Jenny proudly unclasped her new Witzchoura and swept back its flowing sides to reveal her remade lavender frock. Jenny had Annie to thank for the Witzchoura, for she had spotted the cape in the window of Mrs. Russell's shop only this morn, and had deftly persuaded the modiste to put it on Jenny's account.

Jenny glanced up at Lord Argyll, who sat across from her and Meredith, who had fallen asleep from the rock and sway of the carriage ten minutes past, and now was drooling from the side of her half-open mouth.

But none of this mattered to Jenny. As long as Meredith was counting Suffolk sheep in her dreams, Jenny was as good as alone with the handsome Scotsman. Only this time, she would remain in control of her emotions and rein in any skittish bursts of panic.

"My, it is getting rather warm in here, is it not?" Jenny pushed her cloak from her shoulders in order to better reveal the bust-flattering neckline of her walking dress.

"Perhaps not so warm as ye claim. There is still a bracing catch to the air, la.s.s. This ye know." He leaned forward, then glanced at Meredith and lowered his voice.

"But we aren't truly speakin' of the weather. Ye want to know if I think that yer gown flatters ye, aye?"

Jenny felt taken aback at that. "Must you always be so blunt, my lord?" She wrenched her head around and stared out the window at the pa.s.sing countryside.

"I canna abide lies, and seek to speak only the truth. And truth to tell, yer frock flatters yer form nearly as well as the blue gown ye wore last eve at the Theatre Royal."

A burst of excitement lit through her. "You mean the midnight blue. It's new, you know. A gift from the Featherton ladies. Oh, it was gorgeous, wasn't it?"

Callum gave a small laugh at her exuberance. "Not half so lovely as the woman who was wearin' it."

Jenny felt a glow within. He really thought she was lovely. He said it himself, after all, and he always told the truth.

She fought to restrain the upward pull of her lips, not wishing for her pleased ladylike smile to expand into the full, village-idiot grin that truly captured her elation.

As she gazed upon Callum, she wished she too could say exactly what she thought, without concern for the consequences.

Firstly, she'd tell him if he insisted on wearing a kilt, he should learn to keep his legs together. Not that she could see anything scandalous, for she didn't allow her gaze to dwell in those shadows. The fact remained, however, that she might be able to see what lay beneath his sporran if she did not divert her eyes. She was a lady after all.

Or at least pretending to be one.

She looked up into his cozy brown eyes and at his far too handsome face. Though it was still morn, already the dark beginnings of a beard had begun to crop up along his jawline, chin, and above his lips. But this only made him more arresting for it befitted his rugged Scottish nature entirely.

And, were she to speak her mind just now, she'd tell him she found him more striking than the sapphire bonnet with the silver plume she glimpsed at Bartleby's.

And that, beneath his clothing, judging from what she'd had the wanton pleasure to feel, she was sure to find a well-muscled body more perfectly cut than the center stone in a diamond ring... the one in the second display case to the right at Smith and Company.

Callum lifted a bemused brow, and Jenny realized he was clearly aware of her scrutinizing gaze and her obvious inventory of his person.

Heat flowed into her lobes, and suddenly she longed for her straw bonnet with its wide ear-sequestering silk ribbon ties.

He grinned, obviously aware of her discomfort. "Why, I believe ye fancy me, Jenny."