Chapter Five
Constance frowned as she inspected the contents of her clothespress with her maid.
“I suppose the whole lot needs an upgrade.”
Polly, the petite maid with her blonde hair tucked up inside a lace-edged mobcap, nodded.
“Everything is two years out of date, and the ones dyed for mourning are three.” She pulled out a day dress of lavender-dyed cotton.
“This is still pretty, though. We can rework the trimmings and add lace to the bodice if you’d like. ”
“Oh, I’d forgotten about this one.” She let her fingertips glide over the fabric. “Yes, let’s give this one a refresh, and do the same for any other we can salvage.” It would prove expensive to replace the whole of her wardrobe.
However, now that she had agreed to play mistress to a barrister, she needed outfitted from the skin outward, and the vain part of her wanted new, pretty underthings as well as gowns. If he had been truthful about taking her to the opera, that would require appropriate attire.
“I will start on it this afternoon, Mrs. Knight.”
“Thank you.” Suddenly exhausted, Constance sat heavily on a comfortable, overstuffed chair in the dressing room.
When she glanced about the space, she looked at the furnishings and décor with a critical eye.
Done in shades of cream, peach, and sage green, it had been complete redone shortly after she’d lost Samuel, for she didn’t wish the old colors to be a constant reminder of that sad time of her life.
And it had given her a project to concentrate on.
Would the suite prove pleasing to Gregory?
“I have a modiste coming in tomorrow afternoon to take measurements. We’ll discuss new gowns and other things at that time. ”
“That will be fun for you, and it’s good you are starting to live again. Have you accepted invitations to parties and such?” Bright inquiry wove through Polly’s soft, almost breathless voice as she pulled another two day-dresses from the clothespress.
“Not exactly, though my cousin promises we will have a busy end of the Season.” Which she didn’t want to think about, for at the end of May, Lydia and her family would remove to her father-in-law’s country estate.
I’ll be alone… with Gregory.
Before she could become lost in thought, Isabella sashayed into the room. The feline announced her presence with a loud, sharp, “Meow!”
“I’m surprised you are even awake at this hour,” Constance told the cat when the long-haired white animal drifted close to the chair legs. “That must mean you’re nosy about what we are doing here.”
“Mrrrow!” Isabella twined her way beneath the chair before hopping lightly into Constance’s lap. A faint purr drifted to her ears.
“Polly?”
“Yes, Mrs. Knight?” One of the maid’s thin eyebrows rose in question.
“What color do you think is best for me? So I can have a gown made in that hue.”
“Oh.” The maid peered into the clothespress. “I enjoy it when you wear shades of blue. They make your eyes so soft. Or even purple and navy. Cream, perhaps, if you want something softer.” Then she glanced at Constance. “Does that help?”
“It does. Thank you. I’ll mention that to the modiste tomorrow.” As she spoke, she petted Isabella. “Of course, whatever I wear, cat hair will decorate it.”
Polly snickered. “This is a fact.” She brought a couple of gowns from the press then draped them over the back of a chair. “I think these two can be repurposed, but I’ll verify with the modiste as well.”
“Any help is appreciated. A whole new wardrobe is quite an expensive prospect.” And one she didn’t have to incur since Samuel died. Another sigh escaped her. “I wonder if this is even necessary.”
“Of course it is, especially since you are returning to society.”
“Yes, you’re right.” That was only partially true, but she had Gregory in mind.
Would he care what she wore? How often would they be out in public?
Perhaps he might have an insight into the wardrobe she needed to wear.
Wasn’t that what a man did for a woman he put under his protection?
He would provide for his mistress, wouldn’t he?
“And if you wish to attract a rich man, your clothing will need to be carefully selected.” Polly returned to the clothespress then brought out a navy satin gown wherein the bodice was dotted with tiny clear glass beads and equally tiny silver spangles.
“This is lovely, and in a modern enough style that you can still wear it.”
Constance frowned. “Perhaps. I wore it once last autumn when Lydia coerced me into attending a dinner party with her.”
“Well, navy never goes out of style, and neither does this cut. I think, perhaps, I can find a length of silver satin we can fashion into a sash for your waist.” Polly moved closer to the chair. “Put it on for me.”
“Why?” Faint hot panic rose in her chest. She must have tightened her fingers on Isabella too much, for the cat jumped from her lap with a complaint. Seconds later, she darted beneath one of the occasional tables.
“If it fits, you can use this gown immediately until we can repurpose the others or you have new ones made.”
Of course, that sounded logical enough, and she was merely giving in to fear, so she had something to hide behind. “Right.”
A quarter of an hour later, she was garbed in the navy gown, and the feel of the silk blend against her skin was heavenly.
“I’d forgotten how much I adored this gown.
” She hadn’t pulled it out since that night last year, for the thought of being in society had discomfited her so much.
As she turned this way and that before the full-length cheval mirror, the housekeeper entered the room. “Mrs. Evans, is there something amiss?”
“Not at all, dear.” The tall, thin woman with graying brown hair offered a disarming smile. “I came to inquire about your plans for dinner tonight. Will you take it here or are you going out to an event?”
“Oh, I will be home. There are no plans.” In fact, she hadn’t heard from Gregory for a couple of days since that lovely kiss in her drawing room. Did that mean she wasn’t as sophisticated as he required?
“So I assumed but wasn’t certain what with the arrival of Mr. Hamilton a couple of days ago.”
Heat sneaked into Constance’s cheeks. “It is good you’re here, for I did mean to speak with you.”
“About?” The housekeeper exchanged a quick glance with Polly, who shrugged.
“Could you ready one of the guest rooms?”
“I can, but why? We rarely have guests.”
“We might. Soon.”
“Ah.” When Mrs. Evans eyed her askance, Constance kept her own counsel.
If Gregory wished to stay over, he’d need somewhere to sleep.
Or would he want to remain in her bed? She had no idea how such things worked with a mistress.
Did they share a bed, share a room? There was a certain amount of thrill involved with such an endeavor, but she had no idea how to conduct a relationship as a mistress.
None of her friends ever held that position.
“Well, then, I will have the larger of the three rooms prepared. Is there a time frame that you wish it readied by?”
“I… Uh…” Quickly, she shook her head and peered at her reflection in the cheval glass. “Perhaps by tomorrow would be ideal, I think.”
“Very well. I’ll see that it’s done. Will there be anything else?”
“I can’t imagine there would be.” Already, knots of anxiety pulled in her belly, for there was far too much happening and too many decisions to make.
“Then I’ll leave you to your wardrobe.”
No sooner had Mrs. Evans left than Carson appeared in the doorway.
“I realize you are involved, Mrs. Knight. However, a Mr. Hamilton has come to call. Are you receiving?”
“Oh!” Turning about, she glanced at her maid, who had large, curious eyes trained upon her. Dear heavens, he’s here! “I suppose, but I need to change into something more… pleasing?” When she peered at the butler with heat in her cheeks, Carson bit his bottom lip to prevent a grin.
“I don’t see why, Mrs. Knight. You are quite lovely dressed as you are now.” He gave her a shallow half-bow from the waist. “I shall show Mr. Hamilton into the drawing room to wait for you.”
She nodded. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”
Once the butler left, Polly plucked at Constance’s arm.
“Come. Let me arrange your hair in a simple chignon. It will be quick and easy, but it will also suit you.”
“But I—”
The maid giggled. “You want to look your best, don’t you? Considering this is the second time Mr. Hamilton has come to call. There must be a reason.”
Not wishing to answer, she drifted over to the vanity and sat on the embroidered stool. Did this visit mean their relationship had, indeed, started?
Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the drawing room. Immediately upon seeing her, Gregory sprang up from the sofa.
“Ah, Mrs. Knight. How lovely that you’ve decided to see me.” Amusement danced in the gray depths of his eyes. “I apologize that I’ve been away for so long.”
“It has only been a couple of days.” She closed the distance between them and slipped her hands into his. When he raised one of them to his lips, heated tingles twisted down her spine. “How have you been keeping yourself?”
“Well enough. Paperwork and research keeps me busy. Then I’ve had to interview a few potential people who might be good in court.”
His position was so fascinating, and though she wanted to learn more, there were more pressing concerns. “But what are you doing here?”
“Coming to take you on a drive.”
“Why?” A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “We went on one the other day.”
“Indeed, we did, but I wish to go again. Don’t you want to get out of the house, have some fresh air?”
“Perhaps, but I thought men tried to keep their mistresses a secret.” Truly, why was this so difficult for her to puzzle out?
“From wives, perhaps, but since I’m not married, we needn’t go to such lengths… Unless you are ashamed of what we’re doing.”