Page 26 of Doxy for the Ton
Her cheeks flaming, she shook her head.
“Well, that can’t be helped,” he said. “Come inside, and I’ll send for Mrs. Hodge. She’ll know what to do with you.”
He stepped aside, and Mimi entered the building.
The hallway was elegant in its simplicity. Light filled the space, refracting off the crystals from the chandelier, casting myriad colors on the polished marble floor. Tall plants flanked the walls, their frond-like leaves spread out like giant fans.
At the end was a wide staircase with a banister—intricate iron uprights, topped with a polished wooden handrail. The staircase ascended straight ahead, to a turn, guarded by another palm, then it curved to the left before ascending to the upper floor. A row of paintings, landscapes in clean, bright colors, adorned the wall, following the line of the stairs, drawing the eye upward.
Mimi approached the staircase, her footsteps echoing on the floor, and reached out to the banister, tracing the curved ironwork of the uprights with her fingertips, before placing her hand on the handrail.
“I trust you find it to your satisfaction,” the butler said.
“Yes, thank you, Wheeler.”
“I understand you’ve brought no maid with you.”
Mimi felt her cheeks warm at the disdain in his tone. Sawbridge might have promised the staff would treat her with respect, but a woman such as her would be viewed with contempt by even the lowliest servant. Merely surviving in this house would prove to be a battle.
“I have no need of a personal maid,” she said.
“Very good, ma’am. I’ll have Charles escort you to your chamber. Then I suggest tea in the parlor at eleven o’clock.”
His tone implied that refusal was not an option. He arched a brow, and she nodded. “Thank you.”
He reached for a bell on the side table and rang it. Moments later, a thin-faced youth in blue livery arrived.
“Ah, Charles,” the butler said. “Please escort”—he hesitated—“Lady Rex to her chamber. Then show her to the parlor at eleven.” He glanced at Mimi’s valise. “And help her with her…luggage.”
Her cheeks flaming, Mimi handed the valise over, then she turned to the butler.
“I prefer to take tea at half past eleven,” she said.
“But…”
“Mr. Wheeler, I trust I do not have to repeat myself.”
“No, ma’am.”
The butler issued a stiff bow, then Mimi followed the footman upstairs.
She had survived the opening salvo, but the battle had just begun.
*
As a clockstruck half past the hour, Mimi followed the footman across the hallway floor. He pushed open a door, then gave a shy smile.
At least some of the household treated her with courtesy, though doubtless Charles’s civility was due to his youth—red spots marked his forehead and cheeks, and his voice bore the hoarseness of a boy on the cusp of adulthood. He was too innocent to understand who and what she was.
The parlor was already occupied. A woman sat on a chaise longue by the window, her dark hair fashioned into a tidy style, and wearing a dark-blue gown trimmed with lace. She rose as Mimi entered.
“Lady Rex, I presume.” She dipped into a curtsey.
So this was the housekeeper. She should have waited downstairs until summoned. If not even the staff could hide their contempt, how would Mimi survive among Sawbridge’s acquaintance?
“You must be Mrs. Hodge,” Mimi said, keeping her voice even, though she was aware of her cheeks heating. She glanced about the parlor—elegantly furnished in blue and yellow, with two chairs beside the fireplace that matched the chaise longue and a table in the center laden with a tea tray.
Mimi approached the table and lifted the teapot. “It was most kind of you to join me for tea, Mrs. Hodge.”
