I yanked my hand away and moved to the next door and the next.
Marlie gave me wary looks as we pressed on. I scrutinized each door, waiting for the dawn of recognition.
Then a door down the hall opened. My stomach clenched.
It was only a page.
I straightened and squared my shoulders. Act like we belong. Act normal.
When the boy closed the door, I begged silently, Go the other way!
He walked toward us.
My panic surged and nearly buckled my knees, but he only nodded as he passed.
We stopped at another door, between a Chinese vase and a Roman bust. “This is it.” I leaned close and listened for sounds within. Nothing. I turned the knob and peeked through the crack.
No one.
Eagerly I slipped in, with Marlie close behind. She closed the door and latched the lock behind us, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore. I was staring at what had to be the most glorious bedchamber I’d ever seen. A four-poster bed draped in quilted burgundy silks stood steps from a window covered in sheer curtains and a richly carved secretary with a matching chair. Along the eastern wall was a cheval glass and a wardrobe that rose nearly to the ceiling.
I spied the box on a settee beside the fireplace.
“What’s that?” Marlie peered over my shoulder as I lifted the lid.
I peeled back the tissue paper, layer by layer, until I came to a midnight blue bodice sparkling with glass beads sewn into the shape of peacock feathers around the neckline. Gingerly, I lifted the garment by its short, capped sleeves.
Marlie gasped. “What are you doing?”
When the dress was freed from the box, I pressed it against myself, the way Lady Bassey and Lady Wallingham had. A strange sensation washed over me. Excitement? Fear? Both? It felt right and wrong and everything in between.
“I’m going to wear it,” I said. “To the ball.”
Marlie’s usually ruddy cheeks blanched. She was afraid. For me, and for herself. Maybe she was right to be. I was stealing, after all. Even if my only intent was to protect the Queen.
But there was no time to second-guess this plan or formulate another. “I have to,” I added, to reassure her and myself. “It’s the only way.”
She closed her eyes, and I imagined she was wishing she were anywhere else. With anyone else. When she opened them again, she was different. Not fearful, only determined. “Then you’re lucky I’m here,” she said, “because you’ll never get into that by yourself.”
“Of course I can.” I could manage. I’d been managing on my own my whole life.
She waved away my words. “Don’t argue. Just let somebody help you for once.”
I closed my mouth and handed her the bodice.
~ ~ ~
“Tight enough?” Marlie gave a final tug on the bodice laces.
I struggled to breathe but nodded.
“You said you were the same size as Lady Merrington,” Marlie grumbled.
“Close enough.” The garment was tight, but I managed to twist at the waist, making the midnight blue silk swish around me. I wiggled my toes in the low-heeled slippers, which looked exquisite but had certainly been intended for narrower feet. The Faytling, black cord and all, was tucked within my plain cotton corset, leaving my neck and most of my shoulders bare.
I caught Marlie eying me. “Do I look all right?”
“See for yourself.” She motioned to the cheval glass.
I nearly gasped when I saw myself. The gown was snug, but draped nicely, and Marlie had taken my hair out of its usual braid and secured it atop my head with the help of a comb made of mother of pearl and peacock feathers that we’d discovered in the dress box, along with long silky blue gloves and a matching fan and mask.
What was most appealing, however, was the way the candlelight glinted off the beads, making the gown sparkle like the crystals that hung from the castle’s chandeliers. I couldn’t help but smile at the far more elegant version of myself staring back at me in the reflection.
Is this how Lady Merrington would feel wearing this gown? Was this how they all felt, all the noble ladies who paraded around the castle in their sumptuous attire?
“It is a beauty.” Marlie was still watching me.
I looked away from the glass and wished away the red-hot flush creeping over my collar and cheeks. “It certainly is, but that isn’t the point. It’s necessary, that’s all.”
I was addressing her, but I was trying to convince myself. I had a job to do and gazing into a mirror wouldn’t get it done. I went to the door and grabbed the knob.
“Wait,” Marlie cried. “You can’t leave.”
I whirled around, ready to defend my plan. Ready for anything. “Why not?”
“You need these,” she said. From her fingers dangled the fan and blue silk mask.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I moved quickly along the Long Gallery, past the formal drawing rooms to a staircase that would lead to the eastern end of St. George’s Hall, where I could slip into the crowd.
I paused at the end of the stairwell, Marlie at my side.
“This is it,” she whispered, the words nearly lost beneath the strains of a minuet drifting from the ballroom.
This was it. She could accompany me no farther without calling attention to herself. I was on my own.
Which was fine. It was. I didn’t need her or anyone. It wasn’t difficult, what I intended to do. I would simply stroll in and act like any other guest. Just one of the legion of ladies sashaying across the floor without raising an eyebrow or drawing a second glance. I was only a lookout. That was all.
My courage increased by degrees. I squared my shoulders and did what I imagined Lady Merrington would do, what any lady of the court would do: I raised my fan strategically to my nose to cover what
