After that, he had concentrated solely on her underclothing. She was now the owner of pink, lilac, palest lemon and ice blue drawers and chemises, trimmed with profusions of lace and pearl buttons. So pretty were these garments and so delicate, that she could scarcely believe their purpose was to be hidden away from view. She had satin nightgowns with ribbons and wrappers to match, every bit as fancy as those Cecily or Amanda Vance had worn.
He had insisted too on new corsets, or ‘French stays’ as the lady in the store had called them. They started much lower, concentrating on her waist area alone, not going anywhere near her bust or hips at all. “Madam is quite right,” the assistant had told her. “With such an admirable figure, you do not need to be so laced in like a fat old dowager from shoulder to thigh.” Nye certainly appreciated the scantier corsets and the pretty underwear, but to her surprise Mina found she delighted in them as well.
She had been spoiled rotten these last three days. He had not only replenished her wardrobe, but also bought her a number of trinkets and toiletries, enough to cover the dressing table back home. Something had only to catch her eye and he would summon immediately for it to be wrapped up in tissue and ribbon for her.
She had a cut-glass bottle of new French perfume, pearl powders, lip salves and a travelling case lined with sea-green silk, decked out with an array of silver-backed brushes, matching manicure set, and a vanity mirror all engraved with her initials. She had new delicate grey gloves trimmed in black, a fashionable new bonnet with a puffed and gathered crown and the smartest pair of new ankle boots of the softest leather.
Not only that, but Nye had wined and dined her, taken her to the theatre, to the Italian opera though he had yawned throughout the performance, and to the museum and to the art gallery. That very evening they had been out for what Nathaniel Jones had called a ‘slap-up’ celebration meal at one of the finest hotels.
It had been attended by several of Nye’s fellow boxers, who were in Exeter for some sporting event. Nat Jones had treated all of them as his guests and Mina dreaded to think of the size of the bill, he must have picked up afterward for there had been six courses and a procession of bottles of the finest champagne.
Mina had been quite agog to see what everyone wore for their night on the town. Clem had been resplendent in a lilac cravat with a diamond-studded tiepin in the shape of a lucky horseshoe, that she had been quite dazzled by. He had escorted no-one on his arm, though he eyed many passing beauties with his lazy smile of appreciation and seemed to draw just as much covert attention back from them.
Jeb had bought Effie, who had been decked out a low-cut gown of purple satin trimmed with gold lace that Mina had quite blinked to behold. Dot had not been there, for Nat had been unable to tear her away from her beloved London, but there was a young buck called Barty Ewell, with pomaded locks who Effie told her in a whisper was expected to the next big thing in lightweight boxing.
Barty escorted a very giggly blonde called Ruby, that Effie said was a dancing girl ‘with airs above her station’. Mina who caught Ruby eyeing Nye speculatively on not one, but two occasions during the meal, was inclined to agree and kept a beady eye on her, until the girl got the message that Nye’s ‘missus’ was proprietary.
Deep down, Mina could not really blame her, for it seemed to her that Nye in his black dress trousers and scarlet striped waistcoat was quite the handsomest man in the room, despite the strong competition from their own table. She could barely keep her eyes from him and found herself reaching for his hand on several occasions in a public show of her affection quite unlike her previous self. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from touching him these days. Luckily, he seemed to like these bursts of spontaneous affection and actively encouraged them.
When the main course was served, a toast was raised to ‘Nye’s pretty bride’ and Mina blushed as though she were indeed a newly-wed and not a wife of nearly two months standing. When she’d raised the first spoonful of lemon trifle to her lips, she had paused as everyone had let out a wild cheer. Looking down in astonishment, she’d found a gold band set with three diamonds glinting up at her from the swirl of cream and sponge.
“Don’t swallow it,” Nye had advised, leaning forward. “It’s your wedding ring.”
“Oh Nye!”
He had wiped it clean with a napkin. “Not sure that was such a good idea,” he’d murmured ruefully as he slipped it on her finger.
“We must be bankrupt after this weekend,” she said. “But I cannot regret it!”
“Not bankrupt.” He laughed. “Though I have spent all my ill-gotten gains. Just as well.” He winked. “In case those Riding Officers ever come poking and prying into our affairs again. Let them,” he said recklessly after he’d kissed her soundly to the accompanying whoops and cheers of his companions. “For they won’t find any skeletons now.”
Mina had bit her lip and drank down her glass of champagne, for she knew she was sadly strait-laced compared to their current company and did not want everyone to think Nye’s wife uptight or prim. If they thought it, they did not
