“I do, m’lady,” Margo countered. “Just not as tightly as you need to be to wear these gowns. Most of the ladies are laced tighter than the staff.”
“There’s one benefit of being a working girl, I guess,” Emmy offered and Margo giggled with a nod. “It’s just madness to be so concerned with this whole ‘proper foundations’ thing,” she continued as Margo helped her out of her daily wear and turned her to lace her tighter. Emmy gripped the post of the bed and pictured Mammy lacing up Scarlett O’Hara as Scarlett held on to the bedpost in Gone With the Wind. “At least I know why they made beds like this now,” she grunted as she hung on tight while Margo pulled with all her might.
It was worth it, Emmy thought, to see the expression in Connor’s eyes as he watched her enter the drawing room before dinner. Interesting that she had been so angry with him just a couple hours before, yet felt no ire now that she was once again in his company. No hard feelings. With a snap of her fingers she was once again back to being putty in his presence. It was so unlike her.
The heat lit and flared as his gaze swept her from top to bottom. She was glad she had let Margo do her hair tonight. The maid had twisted pieces this way and that, braiding others and weaving them all into an elaborate knot that covered the back of her head from crown to nape. Emmy had twisted between two mirrors to get a look at it and was impressed with the girl’s work. The elaborate hairdo combined with some make up from Dory and this gown, she felt like an angel drenched in diamonds rather than mere crystals.
As she made her way across the room, having eyes for nothing but him, Emmy was surprised to be stopped by Connor’s aunt Eleanor. The old matron pounded the floor with her cane and waved Emmy over imperiously. “Heard what you did for Dory today, my lady.”
“It was nothing,” she returned in all honesty.
The old woman sniffed and pounded her cane down once again. “Nevertheless, well done of you. I was hoping you might be able to help with my maid.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s reaching the end of her time and will probably deliver soon,” the older woman told her as Emmy nodded in understanding. “I was hoping you might condescend to help her when her time comes. There hasn’t been a good midwife around here for years.”
“I am not a midwife,” Emmy ground out through gritted teeth. She forced herself to relax. “But of course, I will look in on her if you like.”
“Lovely. I would most appreciate it.” The woman tapped her cane again as if to mark the end of the conversation. With a nod, Emmy continued to Connor scowling now where a moment before she had been smiling.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she reached him. “What did Eleanor say to ye? I heard the old bags hadn’t seen fit to speak with ye since ye’ve been here.”
She realized that it was true. While she had listened in on many conversations these past several days, she had only been included in those where Dory was present. Even then no one addressed her directly other than to greet her. Emmy hadn’t noticed or cared having so many other things on her mind. “She called me a midwife,” she confessed with a sniff.
“Ye don’t care for that too much, do ye?” he grinned. “I’d get used to it if I were ye. That’s what they call a woman who delivers babies here.”
“I didn’t go endure a six-year residency to be called a midwife,” she protested emphatically. “It’s so base. Degrading.”
“Well, as I said, get used to it.”
She snorted, “Not likely.”
He laughed out loud for the second time in as many days again drawing the attention of his family to him. His aunts traded smiles with each other and looked on in approval, Emmy thought, as if it pleased them to see Connor so amused. Perhaps if they spoke to him every once in a while, he would never have come to be in the state he had been when she arrived, she thought testily still smarting from the midwife comment. Why had they never taken it on themselves to save him from himself? It boggled her mind that he was so untouchable to his own family. Of course, she had no family remaining of her own, so perhaps she was in no position to be critical of their family dynamic.
“Ye did not give me a chance to compliment ye on yer appearance tonight yet,” he commented.
“But you did the moment I came in,” she teased turning her attention to him. “Words were not necessary. I could tell you liked the dress.”
“It is not just the dress but the woman inside,” he murmured seductively raising her hand and placing a kiss on her palm. “Ye’re stunning.”
She curled her fingers around the tingling he left behind. “Thank you.”
“Ye have not answered my question.”
“Which question was that?” she asked.
“Whether ye would ride with me.”
“Well, the afternoon is long gone, so I guess it’s too late to matter,” Emmy responded evasively.
“Alas, there is always tomorrow,” he teased.
Emmy sighed knowing there was no way she was going to be able to gracefully decline. “Here’s the thing, Connor, I don’t know how to ride a horse,” she admitted.
“Nonsense, I know verra well ye can.” A puzzled frown wrinkled his brow. “Perhaps ye’re merely out of practice?”
“I haven’t been on a horse since Girl Scout camp in the 5th grade,” she said honestly. “So, I’m just going to say, thanks, but no thanks.”
Connor shrugged wanting to ask for an explanation, but not wanting to rile her up again. “Verra well, perhaps then ye’d like to join me sailing on the sound. I believe ye
