Page 94 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
“Shhh. Don’t tell Father.”
“I’m not wearing it. You will return it tomorrow.”
“The shops aren’t open tomorrow.” She sniffed. “Besides, I’m Florence Bainbridge. I don’t return things. If I change my mind, I simply give it away.” She suddenly smiled. “Now go and get ready. I’ll see you in the ballroom in an hour and a half. Don’t forget the matching gloves, Harmony!”
Harmony insisted that I eat something while she did my hair so I ordered a salad down the speaking tube. While we waited, she played with different arrangements, but couldn’t settle on one thing. I was acutely aware of the clock ticking.
“We need to do something with your face,” she said, frowning at my reflection in the dressing table mirror.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, really, but you could be prettier with a little color on your cheeks and lips, and perhaps a dash of powder on your nose and brow for the shine.”
“My face will have to stay as it is. I don’t have any powders of rouges.”
Grandmama wouldn’t have approved of me wearing makeup. According to her, only a certain type of woman used it. Times had changed, however, and this was London. I’d noticed some of the younger ladies with a little color on their cheeks and lips, and Flossy had some pots on her dressing table.
“I don’t have anything for your coloring,” Harmony said. “I’m sure Miss Bainbridge will let you use hers.”
The knock on the door signaled the arrival of my salad, carried in by Danny. He deposited the tray on the dressing table as directed and regarded me with a critical eye.
“She needs something to bring out her eyes,” he told Harmony.
She agreed. “Can you fetch some makeup from Miss Bainbridge’s room?”
He returned a few minutes later with seven small pots which he laid on the table in front of me, and some blotting papers. “Miss Bainbridge didn’t know which would suit Miss Fox’s complexion best so she gave me all the ones she had.” He left us to return to his duties, although he seemed disappointed to be going.
Harmony insisted I try on the dress before we finished hair and makeup. She assisted me into the gown then stepped back to study it. “I think it fits well enough. How does it feel?”
I fidgeted with the low-cut neckline, but nothing I did would cover more of my décolletage. “It’s very low and a little tight.”
“Can you breathe?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
I turned to the mirror and had to agree with her. The gown was indeed lovely. The dove-gray silk would have been plain on its own, but the black beading drew the eye. The beads were sewn into a vine-like pattern growing up from swirls at the hem to a denser canopy across my breasts. The capped sleeves clung to the very edges of my shoulders. Coupled with the low neckline, there was quite a lot of skin on display. I’d never worn anything so daring.
Harmony pulled my hand away as I once again tried to tug it higher. “Don’t touch. It makes you look self-conscious.”
“I am self-conscious.”
“Don’t let on that you are. That’s the key.”
“The key to what?”
“To being a sensation.”
I laughed. “I am hardly that. Anyway, the rest of us will look drab next to the two actresses and opera singer.”
She snorted. “I’d like to see them look at you andnotfeel jealousy.”
“Besides, I’m not going to the ball to dance and flirt. I’m going to watch the police arrest Mr. Hookly for murder.”
Her eyes widened. “You continued to investigate?”
“Yes, and I have some things to tell you. Some of them are quite troubling.”
