“No, my lord. Her waters have broken. You must send for Dr. Reading.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, instead of talking about spilled water?” Hunt headed to the front door. “Peters, send for Dr. Reading. I think Lady Huntington is having the baby.”
Dante and Driscoll looked at each other and immediately left the breakfast room. “I think this is a good time for us to take our leave.” Driscoll pounded Hunt on his back. “Send word when it is all over.”
Like two scurrying lads in trouble with the headmaster, Driscoll and his brother grabbed their hats from Peters and fled the house.
15
“Oh, yes, Miss, the gowns and jewelry the ladies wear will make you swoon!” Margie’s eyes grew wide as she described the upcoming ball to Amelia.
Margie, Amelia, Betsy, and even Mrs. Bannon, the cook, were sipping afternoon tea at the long worktable in the kitchen and raising each other’s delight at the impending event.
“I am very excited. I’ve never been to a fashionable ball before,” Amelia said. ’Twas quite unfortunately true, despite her birth. All she’d been able to attend were a few local assemblies while in residence at the Newton country estate. As the daughter of a marquess and stepdaughter of a viscount, she’d grown up dreaming of her own Season, visits to the modiste, rides in Hyde Park, suitors calling with flowers spouting poor poetry, musicales, the theater and museums. And most of all, dancing until dawn with handsome gentlemen.
Given her current circumstances, a fairy tale, to be sure.
“We have gowns in storage you can borrow,” Betsy said, directing her comment to Amelia. “Most of us will do the same. Mr. Rose and his brother were kind enough when we held the first ball to make sure all the employees were included, and that they had appropriate clothing to wear.”
Although she’d never worn other women’s clothes before she came to The Rose Room, she was grateful to at least have something nice for the ball. As elegant as her work gowns were, they were just that. Work gowns. If she weren’t saving every penny for her escape, she would buy something new, but since this life was not hers forever, she could not justify the waste of money.
“I say, ‘tis only a week until the ball. Why don’t we visit the storage room now and see what we have for Miss Pence?” Betsy stood abruptly, not waiting for anyone’s agreement.
“Yes.” Margie clapped her hands and looked over at Mrs. Bannon. “Do we have time before we need to prepare for tonight’s supper?”
The older woman smiled at the young girls’ enthusiasm. “Yes. I believe we do.” She glanced at the clock on the counter against the wall. “We have about thirty or forty minutes.”
They immediately vacated the kitchen and hurried down the hall to what Betsy pointed out was the storage room. Amelia could feel the excitement building as they opened a large wooden wardrobe and began pulling out gowns.
There were seven or eight garments of various colors. Most of them in more subdued shades. Although Amelia had always imagined her first ball dressed in something white, or a pale color, befitting a young, unmarried miss, she was more than happy to consider any one of these gowns.
She particularly liked a deep green satin gown. She held it up and looked in the mirror attached to the wardrobe door.
“That looks lovely on you, miss,” Margie said. “You will be turning young men’s heads all night.”
Amelia doubted that very much. Although she hadn’t spent time at fancy events, she knew the women who would attend the ball the following week would wear the height of fashion, in vivid colors, with jewels draping their necks, wrists and ears. Most likely purchased by their protectors.
But then again, her primary reason to attend the ball was to have fun. To finally experience what she’d dreamed about as a girl. To dance and possibly flirt, at least once before she left London to start her new life somewhere else.
“Here, Amelia, this mask appears to match that gown.” Mrs. Bannon handed her a half face mask—quite similar to the one she wore each night—but in a color matching the gown.
“Yes, I believe you’re right.” Amelia held the mask up to her face.
“Are you taking that one, then?” Betsy asked.
Amelia moved back and forth in front of the mirror, holding the gown against her body. “Yes. I believe so.” She looked at the other women. “Unless one of you wanted this one?”
Mrs. Bannon laughed—her larger size denying any intention she would have had regarding that gown. The other two women shook their heads. “I wore that one last year,” Margie stated.
“’Tis not my color,” Betsy added as she pulled out a bright yellow gown with feathers and lace at the neckline. Amelia tried very hard not to cringe.
She had some time before she needed to dress for the night and help with setting up the club, so she hurried with the gown flung over her arm to her room to try it on.
Once she was out of her plain day dress, she held up the gown and smiled. She could use a much sturdier corset. The one she wore when working was softer since she had to wear it for hours while standing on her feet. And it would be truly lovely to indulge in silk stockings.
She pulled the gown on anyway, just to see if it fit without the correct corset. After stepping into it and pulling it up to her shoulders, there was a slight knock on her door.
Holding the front of the gown against her chest with the entire back open, she walked to the door, noting the hem on the gown needed to be shortened. “Yes?”
“Amelia, it’s Driscoll.”
She opened the door to see him leaning his arm against the doorjamb. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were dressing.” His eyes were fixated
