Chapter Six #2
“I must ask that you pretend not to know Lord Frederick or to have met him before. You were the first to arrive, so no one will be the wiser that you came together. You can pretend to strike up a friendship while you are here, but I will ask you to remain discreet as to the true nature of your relationship. We have other ladies and gentlemen coming to stay, and I should like to avoid any behavior they might view as scandalous taking place directly under their noses.”
Miss Bouffant shrugged. “I can play any part you wish. If you wish me to be a respectable lady and blend in with your other guests, then that’s what I shall do.”
Bridget frowned. She doubted that anyone from London society would be fooled by this woman.
“I’m not uneducated. I’m an actress, and as a result, I know Shakespeare. I can even speak French.”
“Can you?” Bridget said, surprised.
“Oui, bien s?r, mademoiselle. J’ai grandi à Paris.”
“You grew up in Paris?”
“I left when I was nine—adopted by my English aunt after I became orphaned. But she was a cruel woman, so after three years in her care, I turned to the theater to earn my way.”
“That’s wonderful!” Bridget said, an idea forming in her brain. “How about I introduce you to the others as a widowed lady from France…” Bridget hesitated. “Do you still remember how to speak with a French accent?”
“But of course,” the lady said in a convincing French accent.
“Very good. Now, here’s the plan. You will tell people that you have traveled to the Lake District from Paris for a holiday.” Bridget tapped her chin as she thought. The lie wasn’t convincing enough just yet.
The answer came to her in a flash. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.
” Bridget hurried down the hallway and bounded up the stairs to her room.
There she retrieved her copy of Wordsworth’s Guide to the Lakes, two Parisian shawls, a feathered hat, and a pair of gloves, all of which her papa had brought her from France over the years. That ought to do the trick!
She raced back down the stairs and almost collided with Nate, who was ascending with Lord Frederick and two other gentlemen.
“Miss De Lacey!” Nate said. “Where are you off to in such a rush?”
“Oh, just getting our lovely French lady, Madam Bouffant, settled into her room downstairs.”
“Madam Bouffant?” Frederick raised his eyebrows in question.
“Yes, she’s a widow from Paris, who traveled all the way here after reading about the tranquility and beauty of the lakes in Wordsworth’s guidebook.”
“Nonsense!” Frederick said. “She left France when she was nine years—”
Lord Frederick’s words were cut short when Nate’s elbow hit his ribs.
“I dare say! What are you about?” Frederick exclaimed when he regained his breath.
“What are you about bringing a courtesan to my home?” Nate lowered his voice to a hiss. “Let’s hope Miss De Lacey’s ingenuity saves the day. Now, the least you can do is play along.”
“I say, Frederick, that was a rather bold move.” A sandy-haired, bearded gentleman with deep-set gray eyes and a gentle face remarked.
“Shh, it’s a secret, apparently.” Frederick grinned.
Nate glared at his friend.
Frederick shrugged. “It was an error in judgment.”
“I’ll say as much,” the fourth gentleman said. He had dark curls, round black eyes, and plump lips.
“Miss De Lacey, may I introduce Lord Dodsworth and Mr. Jefferson.”
The two gentlemen gave a slight bow and then exchanged a look that plainly said she’s the daughter of the felo de se. Bridget lifted her chin, determined not to let their opinion of her papa affect her.
“We’re off to the smoking room,” Nate said, with a look that clearly said, I’m sorry. Bridget nodded, somewhat relieved that he had turned one of the unused rooms into a smoking room for the gentlemen to enjoy their cigars.
“That sounds lovely. Gentlemen. I hope you enjoy your stay at Villa De Lacey. Dinner will be served at six o’clock.” She bid them goodbye and continued down the stairs. Upon returning to Madam Bouffant’s room, she placed the clothing and the book on the canopy bed.
“What’s all this?” The actress picked up the copy of Wordsworth’s guidebook and frowned at the cover.
“You said that you can read, correct?”
“Of course! I am an actress, so I have had to learn.”
“Excellent,” Bridget said. “Then, I’d like you to read as much of that guidebook as you can. Carry it with you, so you can gush about what you’ve read and how it inspired you to cross the Channel for a visit. Bear in mind, I will want it back, so I intend to retrieve it from you sometime later.”
“Ooh la la, this is fancy.” Madam Bouffant dropped the book onto the bed and picked up the soft green shawl. She wrapped it around her shoulders and smiled. “Very elegant.”
“It’s from Paris, so it might help your disguise.”
“My disguise? I am Parisian, so it’s not a disguise,” she said, now speaking in an impressive French accent.
“I think you know what I mean.” Bridget lowered her voice. “You are playing the part of a widowed, upper-class French lady, so you will need to dress more conservatively. The shawl will help you with that.”
Madam Bouffant glanced down at her ample bosom peeking out of her low-cut neckline and threw back her head, laughing.
“I see what you mean, yes. And I have just the thing to pin this lovely shawl together and keep my bosoms hidden from the fair ladies.” She opened her reticule and pulled out an elegant floral brooch encrusted with emeralds and diamonds.
Bridget gasped. “How exquisite!” She wondered if it was real. If it were, it must have cost a fortune. Then to her shame, a fleeting thought that Madam Bouffant could have stolen it passed through her mind.
“I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t steal it.”
Bridget felt her cheeks pink. “Not at all.”
“Of course, you did.” The actress chuckled. “Anyone would think as much. That’s why I rarely wear it. Either I’ll be accused of stealing it, or a real thief will have it off me in seconds.”
“Where did you get it, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’ll tell you, but you won’t like the answer.” She smiled, seemingly enjoying Bridget’s discomfort.
“Oh, well, never mind. You don’t have to—I mean, it’s none of my business.”
“I have recently acquired a generous patron who is quite besotted with me.” She lifted her chin with pride.
“Do you mean Lord Frederick?”
The corners of her lips curved upwards in a sly smile. “A lady never kisses and tells,” she said, “but, no, not Frederick. The young ones are too cheap and not as easily flattered as the older, married gents.”
Bridget’s forehead creased as she wondered how many “patrons” Madam Bouffant favored at the same time, and whether or not she was capable of discretion.
“Don’t look so worried, mon cheri, as I have already told you, I am an accomplished actress and have played many parts in my time. No one will discover the truth,” she said as if she’d read Bridget’s thoughts. “This will be a wonderful adventure.”
Bridget left Madam Bouffant’s suite with mixed feelings.
She’d taken control of the situation, but she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to keep things from blowing up in her face.
Lord Frederick’s thoughtlessness could have—and might still—jeopardize Villa De Lacey’s reputation before it had even begun to establish one.