‘And it’s such a big country, isn’t it?’
On that subject Nellie could be completely honest. ‘Oh, yes, it’s definitely a big country. Lots of wide, open spaces, that’s for sure.’
‘I would imagine in a big country like that a person could lose themselves, become whoever they want to and no one would be any the wiser.’ She looked up at Nellie’s reflection again, her eyebrows raised in expectation.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘I’m surprised the Duchess of Somerfeld left such a wonderful place where she had so much freedom.’
‘Hmm.’ Nellie was not sure how much of the Duchess’s private life she should reveal. She wouldn’t be telling Lady Cecily that the Duchess was forced to come to England by her father. Nor would she be saying that the Duchess was tricked into marrying the Duke of Somerfeld. ‘Well, the Duchess is happy to be in England now. She’s married to a man she loves and working as an actress, which she also loves.’
‘Love.’ Lady Cecily nodded. ‘Yes, love changes everything, doesn’t it?’ She looked up at Nellie for confirmation. Nellie chose to give a non-committal smile. She had discussed love with Mr Lockhart that morning. That had been an uncomfortable conversation which she should never have had. She wasn’t about to repeat her mistake by discussing love with his fiancée. Not when the mere mention of that word had set off a burning deep within her, a burning that had risen up her throat and was making her feel decidedly uncomfortable.
‘It changes how you see your surroundings, the decisions you make, the actions you take,’ Lady Cecily continued, oblivious to Nellie’s fumbling. ‘It makes you question everything. Sometimes I think we’re all just slaves to that wonderful, devastating emotion.’
Nellie paused, a lock of hair in her hand, and looked at Lady Cecily’s reflection. Her expression had changed from expectant when she had been talking about America to a more melancholy demeanour. She really was the most enigmatic of women. She professed to being in love, to being a slave to that emotion, yet she’d rather have her hair done than spend time with the man she loved, a man who had suffered a terrible beating and was at this very moment lying upstairs in pain.
Lady Cecily looked up, her face still wistful. ‘Have you ever been in love, Miss Regan?’
The question caused fire to explode on to Nellie’s cheeks. She dropped the lock of hair she was holding, then with fumbling fingers re-rolled the tress.
‘Me, no, no, never.’ Why Nellie should be embarrassed she had no idea. She had answered honestly. She had never been truly in love. She’d had flings that she’d enjoyed, but there’d never been anyone who she could say she loved. She’d certainly never met anyone who caused her to question everything, the decisions she made, the actions she took, or made her see her surroundings differently, as Lady Cecily claimed love made you do.
Lady Cecily inclined her head and raised her eyebrows. ‘That blush makes me think there is someone special in your life. You’re very lucky and I hope he loves you back.’
‘No, no, there’s no one, honestly.’ Why did Mr Lockhart’s handsome face enter her mind when she made that denial? Nellie shook her head slightly to drive out that unwanted image. She was most emphatically not falling in love with Mr Lockhart. The mere thought of it was ludicrous. And she should not even be having such a thought, particularly in the presence of his fiancée.
She put down the hairclip she was clasping, which had somehow become bent out of shape, and picked up another one.
But if she was having these ludicrous thoughts about Mr Lockhart, perhaps she should find a nurse to tend to him, if his presence in her bed was causing her to become so disorientated and to act so strangely, especially in front of his fiancée.
She looked at the new hairclip, which had also strangely become bent out of shape.
‘No, I am not in love,’ Nellie stated emphatically. She met eyes with Lady Cecily in the mirror and was itching to ask her if she was in love with Mr Lockhart. If she was, why had she danced with him as if she had no desire to even touch him? Why was she sitting down here, having her hair done, instead of upstairs with the man she was engaged to be married to? But they were questions she could not possibly ask and ones she suspected she wouldn’t want to hear the answers to.
Instead she put the finishing touches to Lady Cecily’s hair in silence. When she had finished, she stood back to assess her work. Despite her fumbling fingers she was pleased with the result and looked at Lady Cecily to see if she liked it.
She patted the voluminous rolls on her head and nodded her approval. ‘Oh, Miss Regan, that’s wonderful. I’m so pleased.’ She stood up, admired her reflection one more time, then walked out to the shop front.
‘Thank you so much and I did so enjoy our little chat about America. It sounds like a wonderful country.’ She gave a little laugh, which sounded forced. ‘Perhaps we should all emigrate there and improve our position in life.’
Nellie responded with a small, polite smile. For a woman who was the daughter of a duke and about to marry a man who was fabulously wealthy Lady Cecily hardly needed to emigrate to America to improve her position in society—she already was as high as she could possibly go.
Nellie expected her to go upstairs and show off her new look to Mr Lockhart, but she seemed content to examine the beauty products and accessories on display while she waited for her father.
Nellie’s next customer also seemed more interested in observing Lady Cecily than moving through to the parlour, so Nellie just let her be.
Before long a man’s boots sounded
