“Like a Society miss dressed up as a maid.” Fiona giggled.
Grinning, Cassandra flopped back against the seat. “Hopefully no one will look too closely.”
Fiona settled her own cap over her hair, which she’d personally dressed into a tight, simple style. “I, on the other hand, probably appear quite normal.”
“I’ve no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but you also look like a Society miss in costume.”
Did she? Fiona wasn’t sure she believed that. She was barely a Society miss. And she didn’t feel like one this week since she wasn’t going to any events. Not that she could complain. Yesterday’s shopping excursion to Cheapside with Cassandra’s aunt had more than made up for anything Fiona was missing. Cheapside was a teeming, vibrant area with so many sights and sounds. She’d even tried caviar from a cart.
Cassandra’s aunt had brought along a friend, and they’d all but ignored Fiona and Cassandra, so purchasing their costumes had been unremarked upon. They’d encountered some difficulty finding gray dresses that fit them properly. As a result, their garments were both a tad too large.
The hack turned onto Piccadilly, where they planned to disembark at Duke Street and walk to the club. Fiona’s insides churned with excitement and anxiety.
After proclaiming themselves ill and stating their plans to remain abed all day, they’d both slipped from their houses and met where Brook Street met Grosvenor Square. Keeping their heads down, they’d hurried to Bond Street and caught a hack, which had been an exciting endeavor on its own. No one could say Fiona wasn’t having an adventure.
The hack came to a stop at the designated location and disembarked. Cassandra paid the driver, then linked arms with Fiona as they started down Duke Street.
“I wish you were coming to the ball on Saturday,” Cassandra said. “What will I do without you there?”
“Dance, make conversation, and generally shine like a diamond?”
Cassandra snorted. “The diamond part is highly debatable. My father is annoyed that no one has paid me a call yet.”
“Why do you suppose that is?” Fiona hadn’t received any either, but she wasn’t surprised.
“The Season is in its infancy. If it were a person, it would still be drooling.”
Fiona laughed. “Is your father annoyed just to be annoying?”
“Precisely.” Cassandra looked at her askance. “I thought Lord Gregory might have called on you by now.”
“Really, why?”
“It seemed you shared a connection. And that you liked him well enough.”
“I did. I do.” Fiona thought back to their promenade and dance. “What constitutes a connection?”
“Sharing things in common, finding things to laugh about, but most importantly a physical…magnetism where you’re drawn together.”
Fiona suddenly thought of the other day when she and Overton had crashed noses. Just before that had happened there’d been something…odd. What Cassandra described was somewhat how Fiona had felt, as if she were being pulled toward him. Additionally, they did laugh together. She found him rather engaging. It was hard not to when he went out of his way to do nice things, such as procure a pianoforte and hire a teacher who was coming to give her a lesson on Friday.
“You’re thinking about Lord Gregory,” Cassandra observed.
She wasn’t at all, but Fiona wouldn’t admit that. And she certainly wouldn’t reveal who she was thinking about.
“Is that the servants’ entrance up ahead?” Fiona asked. Near the corner of Duke Street and Ryder Street, there was a gate to a set of steep, narrow stairs that led down to the lower level of the women’s side of the club.
“Yes.” Cassandra quickened her pace, and Fiona hurried to keep up.
When they arrived at the gate, Cassandra took her arm from Fiona’s and reached for the latch. Fiona tipped her head back to look up at the building. “So this is the Phoenix Club,” she whispered.
“Try not to look at it in awe.” Cassandra opened the gate and started down the stairs.
Fiona followed, pulling the gate closed behind her. At the bottom of the stairs, there was an area for coal storage as well as other items, but Fiona didn’t pay close attention.
“Ready?” Cassandra asked, her hand on the door.
“Yes,” Fiona breathed.
Then they were inside the rather dim interior of a corridor. Their plan was to find cleaning implements and make their way upstairs. Fiona had managed that part of the scheme. They’d polish furniture or clean floors. In truth, they’d do neither, but that’s what they would pretend if they encountered anyone, which, of course, they would.
Immediately, as it happened.
As they made their way along the corridor, another maid—dressed in a gray gown and dark green apron, just as Prudence had said—walked past them without a word or eye contact.
“Excellent,” Cassandra murmured.
Fiona glanced about, eager to find their props. She poked her head into one doorway, only to jerk it back out again after seeing two maids in conversation. “Not in there,” she whispered.
Moving on, she tried another door, this one closed.
“Careful,” Cassandra urged.
She was being careful. Fiona gently opened the door and peered inside. It was a pantry of some kind with…cleaning supplies! “Success!”
Removing a bucket and some rags, she turned and handed the former to Cassandra. “We should fill this before we go upstairs. Otherwise, we won’t be convincing at all.”
“Where do we do that?”
“There might be a pump in the kitchen?” Fiona wasn’t familiar with houses like these.
Cassandra shrugged. “I’m not allowed on the lower level of the house. But at Woodbreak—that’s my father’s country estate—it’s in the kitchen.”
Creeping cautiously along the corridor, they found the kitchen and the pump. Fiona traded the rags for the bucket and filled it. Then, finally, they went in search of the stairs.
A few minutes later, they emerged on the ground floor, stepping out of the servants’ stairway into a sitting room in the back corner with windows facing Duke Street and the back garden.
Decorated in delicate gold and ivory, the space felt warm and welcoming. It also, somehow, seemed to shimmer. Fiona strolled around the perimeter. “It’s such a pretty room.”
“Whoever designed this is brilliant,” Cassandra
