She quickly whispered to Harriet to tell the next customer that the daughter of the Duke of Ashmore was having her hair styled and there would be a delay. Nellie knew her customer would be so thrilled that she was in the same establishment as a high-ranking member of the aristocracy that she would be more than happy to wait.
Lady Cecily swept through to the parlour, her skirt rustling as she sat down in front of the mirror. Nellie was suddenly conscious of how she looked in the plain brown skirt and jacket. It was such a contrast to Lady Cecily, dressed in an elegant mauve-and-white-striped gown with an intricate lace collar. When Mr Lockhart saw his fiancée in all her finery, he must have thought how dowdy Nellie looked in comparison. Although his reaction this morning showed he hadn’t thought her dowdy then. Nellie blushed slightly. This morning’s encounter was something that should never have happened and the very reason why Lady Cecily had every right to object to her fiancé sleeping in another woman’s bed.
Nellie unclipped Lady Cecily’s hair and brushed out the long brown strands. ‘I’m sure Mr Lockhart was pleased to see you,’ she said and braced herself for an uncomfortable conversation that was no more than she deserved.
‘Mmm, yes. It’s very good of you to take care of him. Father has quite a lot he wants to discuss so I thought I might as well make good use of the time and get my hair done. Feel free to do it in any style you think suits me, Miss Regan. After all, you’re the expert.’
Nellie nodded her agreement.
She had observed Lady Cecily at the ball and already knew exactly what sort of style would suit her. ‘I’m sure Mr Lockhart will be much better soon and will be able to return home, but the doctor said he shouldn’t move for a few days, so unfortunately, he’s going to have to remain where he is.’ She sent Lady Cecily’s reflection a small reassuring smile.
‘Hmm, yes, that is unfortunate,’ she said, her voice flat as if discussing something of no real importance.
‘But the doctor also said if there are no internal injuries he should heal really quickly as he’s so young, strong and healthy.’ Nellie blushed slightly, remembering his naked chest and just how healthy and strong he was.
‘That’s good.’
Nellie paused in the process of dividing Lady Cecily’s hair into sections and took another quick look at her reflection. Did she not want to hear all about Mr Lockhart’s condition, how it had happened, what the doctor had said, how long he needed to recuperate? If it was Nellie’s fiancé lying beaten and bruised, she would want to know every single detail. And was she not concerned that her fiancé was lying in another woman’s bed? Nellie would be very curious about that as well. More than curious. She would not stand for it. Would be insisting that she took over his care herself. But then perhaps Lady Cecily saw Nellie as just a servant, someone who could tend to her fiancé, but could never be competition for his affections. Something Nellie had to admit was true. Mr Lockhart might have said he wasn’t actually in love with Lady Cecily, but she was the woman he wanted to marry, the woman he wanted to share his life with. The woman he considered suitable to be his bride.
‘I have to say, the Duchess of Somerfeld did look so elegant at my engagement party,’ Lady Cecily continued. ‘You really are very talented. I feel quite lucky to be able to have my hair styled by the same person who did the Duchess’s hair.’
‘Thank you, my lady.’ It seemed that all talk of Mr Lockhart had come to an end. Nellie didn’t know if she was relieved that she had dodged a potentially uncomfortable conversation or shocked at Her Ladyship’s lack of interest. How could she be thinking about her hair at a time like this? Once again Nellie was confounded by the behaviour of the British upper classes.
‘Did you work for the Duchess in America?’ Lady Cecily asked.
Nellie clipped a curl in place and began rolling up another long tress. ‘Yes, I worked for the Duchess in New York when she was still Arabella van Haven. I came with her to England a year or so ago.’
Lady Cecily sighed. ‘I’d love to go to America. I’ve heard society is much less rigid over there.’
Nellie paused in what she was doing and looked at Lady Cecily’s reflection again in the mirror. She had such a wistful, dreamy look on her face. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’
Lady Cecily looked up at Nellie’s reflection. ‘I’d love to hear all about America. I believe people can completely reinvent themselves there, become the people they would like to be.’
Nellie nodded and teased out a series of curls. ‘Well, yes, I suppose that’s true. The Duchess of Somerfeld’s father, Mr van Haven, was born into poverty. His father was a miner, but now he’s at the very top of New York society, attends all the leading social events, is a member of all the best clubs. I don’t imagine that would happen in England.’
Lady Cecily shook her head, her eyes glowing with interest. ‘No, indeed not. Imagine that. The granddaughter of a miner is now the Duchess of Somerfeld and she’s also an actress. It sounds like a country where you can do whatever you want, become whoever you want.’
‘Hmm.’ Nellie decided there was little point informing Lady Cecily that not everyone in America became a millionaire. Many of the Irish immigrants who had travelled to America on the same ship as Nellie ended up living in the overcrowded, crime-ridden and disease-infested Five Points area of New York. They were not much better off than they would have been if they’d remained in Ireland. But that was not the sort of polite conversation one
