Page 45 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
Then a young boy’s voice piped up from within one of the stalls. “Maybe I can help you, Miss.”
In the darkness of the stable, Sarah could not make out who had spoken. “Who are you?”
With an agile leap, a small boy jumped out of the stall and came into the light. He was streaked with dirt and dressed in rough clothing.
“I help Mr. James now and again. He has me come in some days to help when your brother will pay for it. He calls me Nut, but my name’s Nathaniel. Nathaniel Green.” He bobbed an ill-practiced bow, and Sarah stifled her smile. “I think I can help you,” he repeated.
“I appreciate your offer, Nut,” she hesitated a bit over the name. “But how could you help me? You’re just a child.”
He puffed up at this, swelling his thin chest out. “I’m not a child! I’m nearly nine, aren’t I? And in fact, my mother’s a maid for Lord Cunningham. I could give her your letters easily, and bring letters back to you the days I work here.”
Sarah considered this. It was a risk to trust such a young boy, and one she did not know, but what other choice did she have? Further, she knew she was risking the boy’s work as well. If John or her mother were to find out he had helped her, he would certainly be fired or punished. She pulled the letter from her pocket and dashed a line within, explaining the situation to Juliet, and then sealed it.
He took it with a serious formality that had her biting back her smile again, sure that any hint of patronization would offend her new friend. “I can have this to Lady Cunningham by evening, Miss,” he promised. “I’ll make certain my mother takes it to her directly.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Sarah said honestly, genuinely touched by his offer and willingness to help her, when her own coachman, whom she had known much of her life, would not even consider it.
“Don’t have to thank me, Miss,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his coat, its sleeves too short for his thin arms. “You’re a lady, and a gentleman always helps a lady,” he said seriously.
“You are a true gentleman, indeed,” she said with a curtsy. “I am in your debt.”
It was time to go if she hoped to be back before her absence was noticed. Moving quickly, she crept back up the stairs and into her rooms, quickly sliding out of her clothes and climbing back into bed. She was sitting neatly under the counterpane when Rebecca came in to dress her for the day.
The secret feeling of pride carried her through breakfast and into the afternoon, until her mother appeared at her door with a maid she did not recognize.
“Sarah, this is Mary, a lady’s maid of a friend of mine, who has kindly lent her to us for the day.”
Mary bobbed a quick curtsy.
“What do we need to borrow a lady’s maid for?”
“She’s a wonder with hair,” Lady Marlow swept into the room, Mary and Rebecca at her heels. “She’s come to do something special with yours for the dinner this evening.”
At once, the glow of her clandestine morning activity died, replaced by a feeling of dread so thick she felt physically weighed down by it. “Oh. Of course.” There was no use arguing now, not with her mother’s threat still ringing clearly in her ears.
Rebecca helped her strip into just her underclothes, so that she would only have to step into the gown once her hair was finished.
“Now, Rebecca, come help me choose the right gown for her to wear this evening. Something special. I’d like it to really bring out her eyes…”
While Rebecca and Lady Marlow busied themselves at the wardrobe, casting gowns to the side more quickly than the time it took to pull them out, Mary sat Sarah before the mirror at her vanity.
“Is there anything in particular you would like for me to try, Miss?”
Sarah shook her head mutely. Mary seemed to wait for her to say something, but she could not muster a word. Finally, with light hands, Mary began to work.
The next hour passed interminably slowly. A gown was decided upon and laid out in preparation for her until Mary announced that her hair was ready. Looking in the mirror, even Sarah could admire the girl’s handiwork. She had created a series of clever, intertwining plaits at the top of her head, wound through with shining white pearls. Typically, elaborate hairstyles only seemed like a dreadful waste of time to her, but this one elongated her neck, and made her eyes look very large and bright.
Sarah’s mother lowered her face next to Sarah’s at the mirror. “Aren’t you just darling? I gave her those pearls to use. Fake, of course, but your gentleman will hardly know the difference!”
“He is not my gentleman,” Sarah protested, but Lady Marlow acted as if she did not hear.
“Let’s get her into her gown, shall we?”
The three of them helped Sarah step into the gown that had been chosen, the rich pink gown that had been created for her by the celebrated London dressmaker, Mrs. Wellington, the year before.
“Mother, this gown is for a ball.”
“Yes, I know that, but the Earl won’t mind. So long as you are sparkling beautifully in the candlelight, he won’t notice anything amiss,” she said, humming to herself as Sarah was buttoned up by the two maids. “Oh, my. Sarah, just look at you.” With misty eyes, her mother took her by the shoulders and turned her to face her looking glass.
