Page 4 of A Gentleman's Kiss
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Lillian sighed as she gently placed her book on the side table in her bedroom. She adored Shakespeare. Stretching her arms above her head, she wished she could find a man as romantic as the ones in literature.
A light tapping at her door, caught Lillian’s attention. She watched as Mrs. Rowe strode in. The housekeeper scowled, and Lillian could only imagine what she was thinking this time. Perhaps she wasn’t sitting properly enough or there was a wrinkle in her skirt. She wasn’t going to let the housekeeper’s mood bother her. She had enough problems of her own—namely her reception to her family. The housekeeper’s bristling nature was quite low on the list.
She was suddenly struck with the realization that she didn’thaveto deal with the housekeeper’s rudeness. While she’d always been one to relate well with her servants, and treat them with kindness, she’d also never experienced one with Mrs. Rowe’s temperament. She would simply need to put the housekeeper back in her place.
Two can play this game.
Instead of acknowledging the housekeeper with words, Lillian simply raised her eyebrow in question hoping her displeasure at the rude intrusion could be seen.
Her ploy didn’t work however and the woman’s scowl deepened. Perhaps she had better rethink how to deal with the unpleasant woman.
“We must prepare you for dinner.” Mrs. Rowe marched over to her wardrobe and wrenched open the doors as if she wanted to rip them off entirely.
Lillian chose to ignore her. Sometimes that was the best way when working with children, and Mrs. Rower certainly was acting childish. “Wonderful. I think I should like to wear my blue gown.”
She loved the way the blue gown accentuated all of her best features, brightening her eyes, molding to her slim figure, and giving her creamy skin a lively glow. She hoped the gown would give her the boost of confidence she needed. Not to mention, it was also in much better condition than the one she was currently wearing, and the style most resembled what she’d seen her cousins wearing earlier in the day.
“Lady Tamara will be wearing blue tonight,” Mrs. Rowe dictated, rummaging through her wardrobe. “You will be wearing green.”
Lillian nodded, trying to hide her crestfallen features. She hadn’t the energy to fight with the housekeeper. Besides, she did not want to take any attention away from her cousin. She wanted her to like her after all. Why was this woman fighting with her? They barely knew each other. But, seeing as how she’d only just arrived, perhaps it was best not argue or play games with the housekeeper, it would only make matters worse. She hoped Mrs. Rowe was purely having a bad day and she didn’t want to make her mood worse. Deciding to acquiesce to the housekeeper, Lillian stood.
“Green it is.”
She liked her green gown well enough, wearing it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Madame DeBourg had said her new clothing would be ready soon and then she would have nothing to worry about as far as her wardrobe went.
She stood still and held her breath as Mrs. Rowe stripped her down, offered her freezing cold water to wash with, and then yanked a fresh chemise over her body. The housekeeper clipped her stays in front and then tied them so tight in the back Lillian had to gasp for every breath.
“Too tight,” she managed to squeak, but Mrs. Rowe simply grunted.
“’Tis the fashion. You’ll get used to it.”
Lillian wasn’t sure she would. She thought she might pass out before she reached the dining room.
Her gown was next, with Mrs. Rowe making disgruntled noises as she buttoned the back, and placed pins here and there so it fit her better.
By the time the woman was done tormenting Lillian by styling her hair, she wished she were bald so she would never have to undergo her ministrations again. Judging from the pain in her scalp, Mrs. Rowe had ripped out more hair than she pinned up.
She would speak with her uncle about getting her own maid at dinner. She could not possibly go through this again. Discreetly she wiped the tears from her eyes with her pinky finger.
Mrs. Rowe left abruptly. Needing to get out of her room, Lillian started her slow descent to the dining room. She tried to think of topics of interest she could bring up. The smog over London, Shakespeare, music… Everything she came up with seemed like it would bore them to tears. She supposed she could let them take the lead on topics they found interesting.
She would now be forced to endure hours of conversation with little to offer of interest. It was hopeless. Her cousins and she were so very different, brought up in literally two separate worlds. There couldn’t possibly be anything they had in common. But if she was honest with herself, what she really feared beyond boring them was that they would not want to get to know her.
Her uncle had been the only one to give her a warm welcome, and even he had disappeared—more like escaped. Even still, she hoped she could sit close to him as he was the one most likely to speak with her.
Lillian berated herself for her thoughts. She should want to sit next to them all, she did live with them now, and they were her family. An awkward first meeting did not mean a thing. Perhaps her cousins were overly tired, she certainly had been. She would have to be solicitous and kind to garner their respect and friendship. She was as much a stranger to them as they were to her. If they could have heard what she’d been thinking just now they would have been upset. She would not have liked to think someone thought those things about her. Guilt riddled her mind and she vowed to make it a point at dinner to speak with everyone and offer them her affection.
During the internal battle she was having, she barely heard the man at the foot of the stair clear his throat.
Startled, she sucked in a breath, glanced up, eyes wide.
He was breathtaking. He leaned charismatically, one hip on the banister at the foot of the stair, his right elbow resting on the curved wooden end. He was tall, his body lithe, and broad shouldered.Svelte. His left arm bent with a strong hand placed on his slender hip, drawing attention to his well cut thighs. His trousers and coat clung to well-defined muscles. Lillian couldn’t help but admire him through her lashes, not wanting to be too forward. His clothes were of the utmost style, his shirt, pants and jacket smooth and crisp, not a piece out of place. He obviously cared a great deal for how he appeared to others, or else his valet made it is his priority that his master looked top notch.
Flawless.
His thick brown hair came neatly to tie at the nape of his neck. A small lock came undone and lay against his forehead, giving him a wicked look.
