Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
A bbey trudged up the servants’ stairs, dragging her fingers along the banister. She didn’t want to do this, but she also didn’t want to disappoint Mrs. Pettigrew.
The sewing room was quiet when she reached it, the door slightly ajar. Afternoon light poured through the tall windows that overlooked the grounds, and she fought the urge to peek out at the activity going on behind the house. Instead, she surveyed the room. Several bolts of fabric and spools of thread were strewn here and there, along with a few measuring tapes and scissors.
Even among all of that, the gown was easy to spot. It hung from a dress form near the window. A beautiful green creation with a light green lace overlay and a golden sash. Simple. Elegant. And far finer than anything Abbey had ever worn in her life.
She stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat. It didn’t look like a servant’s hand-me-down. This was something made especially for her. Her name was even stitched in fine thread on a small tag inside the collar. Abbey smiled. Of course it was.Mrs. Pettigrew wouldn’t have it any other way.
The woman was generous, to be sure. And Abbey was going to have to find a way to thank her. Just looking at the dress made her feel guilty for wanting to serve rather than attend the ball. She reached out and touched the fabric. It was soft beneath her fingertips, and she loved the feel of it.
The sound of approaching footsteps made her pull her hand back. She turned just as Mrs. Pettigrew stepped into the room. “Ah, there you are, ma petite ,” she said. “I was wondering when you’d come have a look.”
Abbey put her hands behind her back to keep from touching the dress again. “Mrs. Pettigrew,” she hedged, “I didn’t realize ye had one made. I’m not sure I…”
“Oh, stop your fretting,” Mrs. Pettigrew said with a graceful wave of her hand. “I was hoping to find you here. I’d like to speak with you, and it’s not just about the dress.”
Abbey’s breath hitched, and she began fidgeting with the bow of her apron. “Mrs. Fraser said ye wanted us to attend the ball. I…I don’t know why I hadn’t heard about it sooner.”
“It doesn’t matter now. But yes, I did. And yes, Ido.” Mrs. Pettigrew crossed the room to the dress and picked up one of the sleeves. “They did a wonderful job. It will look beautiful on you.”
Abbey took a step forward. “But I thought I was to serve.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Pettigrew waved her words away with another flick of her hand. “Everyone else is attending. You need to have some fun.” Her gaze softened, but her voice still held its usual firmness. “Abbey, this house has seen its fair share of gatherings, but this ball? It’s something special. It’s spring, ma petite . A celebration of new beginnings. Goodness, Easter is almost upon us. It’s a time of love, of courage. And I want everyone to enjoy all that our celebration has to offer.” A hand went to her hip. “And that includes you.”
Abbey looked at the gown again. “It is beautiful... but I’m not sure it’s for me.”
Mrs. Pettigrew folded her arms. “I think it’sexactlyfor you.”
“I don’t belong in a gown like that,” Abbey whispered.
“Ridiculous!”
“I’m just…”
“Don’t you dare reduce yourself with a ‘just,’” Mrs. Pettigrew cut in.
Abbey blinked in confusion. “What do ye mean?”
Mrs. Pettigrew walked to the nearby chair and sat. “Abbey, you are a young woman of grace, strength, and no small amount of fire. I believe you’ve forgotten that. But don’t worry. I’m here to remind you.”
Abbey’s throat tightened. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She didn’t want to disappoint her employer. And the dress was lovely.
Mrs. Pettigrew’s face softened. “It’s not like I haven’t noticed you haven’t been yourself lately.”
Abbey looked down at the floor and said nothing.
“I have a feeling,” Mrs. Pettigrew went on, “that whatever’s troubling you lifts a bit when you walk into those gardens in this gown. Head held high and with your heart open.”
Abbey’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Do not question me,” Mrs. Pettigrew said, standing. “Just try on the dress.”
Abbey let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, then slowly nodded. “Fine, then. I’ll try it on.”
“Ah, that’s my girl.” She stepped forward, took Abbey’s hand, and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze. “Once you have it on, ma petite , let the dressmakers work their magic. The ball will be here before you know it.” And with that, she swept from the room, leaving Abbey alone once more.
Abbey stepped closer to the gown. Maybeshe would wear it. Just once. Just to see what it felt like to belong.
Ewart adjusted the cuffs of his evening coat and did a final survey of the lawn. Paper lanterns flickered everywhere. He’d made sure there were strings of them throughout the gardens, and that they’d also been strung between the booths. Guests strolled the garden paths, laughter and conversation filling the air. They were lucky with the weather; the night wasn’t too chilly and with few clouds in the sky.
The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the aroma of Mrs. Fraser’s pastries and spiced cider from a booth across from hers. Mr. Ross hawked his potatoes beside a vendor selling sweetmeats. All the other booths were decorated and ready, each one manned and waiting for a customer.
Well, except Rebecca’s. No one stood at hers, but Ewart wasn’t going to let that bother him.
He began making his rounds. The orchestra was finishing warming up and the dancing would begin soon. The ball had already begun, but he knew things wouldn’t reallyget going until the music started.
One would think he’d be enjoying himself. Instead, he was scanning the crowd for a certain redhead with blue eyes. Where could she be?
“Ewart!”
He stiffened as Rebecca swept toward him in a swirl of golden ruffles. She smiled with self-satisfaction, like she’d just dug up some buried treasure., “There you are.” She linked her arm through his without invitation. He should be used to it by now. “You’ve been avoiding me all afternoon,” she said with a pout. “That’s naughty. And rude.”
He fought against a sigh. “I was getting things ready for tonight.” He glanced at her. “I see you went home and changed.” Okay, that was a mistake.
“Oh, do you like my gown? Isn’t it stunning? I’m sure I’m the only one here wearing gold.” She looked around as if to confirm it. “Now, why don’t we get some punch and have a dance?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I still have work to do.” He attempted to extricate his arm, but she clutched him tighter. “There’s a lot I have to keep track of,” he added, hoping she’d take the hint.
“Well,” she purred, “now that you’re here, we can finalize our plans for the booth. Then you can keep track of whatever else you like.”
He gaped at her. “Rebecca, there arenoplans for your booth. I thought I made that clear.”
Her sickeningly sweet smile didn’t falter. “You’ll come around. I’m sure of it.”
He was about to offer a firmer rebuttal when motion near the house caught his eye. Abbey stepped through the French doors onto the lawn, brushing at the skirt of her dress. The paper lanterns caught her hair first, then her gown. A soft, shimmering blue with a green lace overlay. The bodice hugged her frame and the skirt swayed around her like a cloud. Her coppery hair was swept up in curls, revealing her neck and he wondered if Mrs. Fraser had helped style it. He also itched to kiss Abbey’s creamy skin, just below the ear...
Then he saw her hesitant expression, the way her hands twisted nervously in front of her. She was uncertain. Unsure of what to do next.
For a moment, Ewart forgot how to breathe. Abbey was radiant, even if she was confused.
Rebecca followed his gaze and scoffed. “Well, someone must have slipped in while the help wasn’t looking.”
He ignored her.
“She looks like a child playing dress-up,” Rebecca added with a bitter little laugh. “What on earth was Mrs. Pettigrew thinking, letting the help attend.”
Ewart extracted his arm from her hold and was already moving. He walked away without a word, weaving through the crowd toward Abbey, never once taking his eyes off her.
“Ewart! Where are you going?” Rebecca called after him.
He kept on. Abbey saw him coming, froze for a moment, then straightened as he reached her. Somewhere behind him, he heard a scuffle, followed by Mr. Tugs’ voice. Thank goodness the old butler was intercepting Rebecca.
He’d have to thank him later. “Abbey,” he breathed, offering his hand. “You look lovely.”
“Oh, why thank ye, Mr. Bailey.”
He cleared his throat. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
Belatedly, he realized there was no music. He glanced up just as the orchestra began to play and looked back to her.
Her eyes widened. “I…I don’t dance.”
“I don’t mind,” he said softly.
“No, really, I don’t know the steps. Not a one.”
“I’ll guide you.” He gently squeezed her hand.
“I’ll step on yer toes.”
He chuckled. “You won’t hurt me.” He offered his hand again. “Shall we?”
“Oh, bother,” she muttered under her breath, then placed her hand in his.
He led her to the edge of the dance floor just as the music swelled around them. She was stiff at first, her steps hesitant. Her gaze fixed somewhere near his collar. He didn’t have a spot of ink there, did he? “You’re doing fine,” he told her. “Waltzes aren’t too hard. You just follow me.”
“I amnotdoing fine.” She winced. “Oh, bother! Sorry!” She’d stepped on his foot.
“No, really, you are. And I expect you to step on my feet now and then.”
She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I told ye I’m not very good.”
“You’re here,” he said, meeting her eyes. “With me. And that’s more than enough.”
A blush crept into her cheeks.
“In fact,” he said gently, “I could teach you how to dance, after tonight, if you’d like. Right now, you’re just getting a taste of it.”
“A taste of how bad I am?”
He laughed. “You’re doing just fine.”
Something eased in her expression, and her shoulders relaxed.
He guided her through the steps, adjusting to her rhythm. She still stumbled now and then and kept muttering apologies, but by the time the music came to an end, she was smiling.
So was he. Ewart fought the urge to kiss her and instead led her gently toward the edge of the dance floor.
Good grief. What was he doing?!He should dance with her again while he had the chance. But he didn’t move. He just looked at her, noticing the way her cheeks were still flushed from their dancing.
A shy smile played at her lips as she looked up at him. Her eyes were bright and once again filled with uncertainty, but not nearly as much as before.
He’d count that as a win. Ewart opened his mouth. He didn’t know what he meant to say—something foolish, probably, but he didn’t get the chance.
“Ewart!”
He closed his eyes. Not now.
Rebecca sliced through the crowd, her skirts rustling. Abbey’s smile dimmed. Ewart turned toward Rebecca, placing himself between the two women.
“There you are,” she purred, her smile far too wide. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
He resisted the urge to cringe. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I can see that,” she said, casting a glance at Abbey. “But you and Imustfinalize the details for the booth so we can dance. You haven’t forgotten you promised to…”
“I didn’t promise anything,” he said tersely. He didn’t care how he sounded anymore.
Rebecca blinked. “Well, perhaps not in so many words, but it was implied.”
“It most certainly was not.”
She gave a little huff and looped her arm through his. “Really, Ewart, we can’t leave everything to chance tonight. And this,” she gestured toward Abbey. “This little interlude can certainly wait.”
He tensed. “Miss Harrington.” The warning in his voice was clear.
“Sir,” said Mr. Tugs, appearing at his elbow as if conjured by sheer need. He gave Rebecca a subtle nod, then turned to Ewart. “I’m sorry to intrude, Mr. Bailey, but there’s a matter that requires your attention.”
“What sort of matter?” he asked, more than ready to escape Rebecca’s iron grip.
“One that involves Mr. Prosser, two ladders, and an unfortunate incident involving the bunting of one of the booths.”
Ewart sucked in a breath. “Oh dear.”
“Indeed.”
Ewart turned to Abbey. Her smile was gone now, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “I’ll be back,” he said gently.
She nodded once, but didn’t speak.
Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful, then I’ll just…”
“You willstay,” Ewart said firmly, yanking his arm free. “Excuse me.” And with that, he strode off with Mr. Tugs, praying Rebecca stayed civil around Abbey. He had a feeling, however, that the latter would no doubt retreat back into the house.