Page 19 of Devil at the Gates
“Oh, that’s far too pretty.” Harriet shook her head at the sight of the silken gown that exuded elegant decadence.
“Well, I’ve got a potato sack down in the kitchen you might prefer.”
Harriet’s eyes widened, unsure of how to respond. Had the brash comment come because she had somehow caused offense? “P-pardon?”
Maisie covered her mouth as she held back a burst of laughter. “I’m just saying, miss, that you can’t spend your life turning down things being offered just because you think they’re nice.”
“Well, no. I suppose not.”
“You should have seen the look on your face just now, miss.”
“Well, I’d never heard a servant speak so…boldly before.”
Maisie smiled. “Bold? Aye, that’s one way to put it. I suppose in any other household I’d have been sacked by now. Mrs. Breland’s had words with me on more than one occasion. Course, it’s not easy finding people to work here, so that works in my favor.”
“Perhaps that’s the real reason she approved of Timothy courting you?” Harriet said with a hint of a smirk.
“What do you mean, miss?”
“Well, maybe Mrs. Breland believes that if you’re wed Timothy will help keep you in line, become a respectful and dutiful wife?”
Maisie considered this. “Oh, well, aren’t they in for a surprise then?”
They both broke out laughing at this, to the point where Harriet had to wipe the tears from her eyes. When their laughter died down, Maisie removed the dress completely from the box and held it up to Harriet.
“I never speak my mind to be rude, miss, but because I care. This was the second time you tried to refuse something because you thought it looked too nice. Now what does that say about how you see yourself? Nothing good, if you ask me. If you keep saying things like that, sooner or later you’ll start to believe them.”
“You’re right,” said Harriet, bowing her head in appreciation. “You have my thanks.”
“Now, I’m no expert, but I’d say this is perfect for you. Let’s get you dressed for dinner.”
Once she was wearing the gown, Harriet stared at her reflection in the mirror. The sheer overskirt carried a dreaminess of romanticism and was embroidered with delicate glittering gold leaves. Heavy satin pink ribbons bordered the hem and made the bottom of the overskirt thick and billowy in a way that would have suited a princess. A matching pink sash around her waist was tightened into a bow at the back, which drew one’s eyes to her waist. She looked nervously at the low scooped neckline, and the sleeves of the gown rested on the edges of her shoulders. The décolletage was scandalously low. She’d always worn high-necked gowns at Thursley, fearing what George might say or do if he saw her wearing something so revealing.
“Are you certain they won’t fall off?” she asked in a hushed tone as she stared critically at the sleeves.
Maisie fluffed the sleeves into delicate puffs and chuckled. “They won’t. The gown’s bodice is tight enough. It’s designed to rest against the bosom and have the sleeves just barely drape off one’s shoulders, like so.” The maid plucked at the sleeves, but they remained firmly in place just barely on the edges of her shoulders.
“I’ve never worn a gown like this before,” Harriet admitted.
“Trust me, miss. This gown will do what it was intended to do.”
Harriet touched her naked throat and frowned as she pulled on the long white kid gloves. “And what’s that?”
“It will draw his eye and show him how lovely you are.”
Harriet’s belly flipped. “Wait. Was this dress Lord Frostmore’s idea?”
“No, miss. It was mine.”
“But why?”
“Because His Grace has been thinking terrible things about himself for so long that he’s come to believe them. I know what you must be thinking, but I’m not trying to match you, honest. I just think you both need a chance to believe you deserve to have nice things from time to time. Even something as simple as having dinner with an attractive companion.”
Harriet considered the maid’s words. Did she want the duke to see her as lovely? Yes. She did. The realization surprised her. She’d never wanted to feel beautiful before. Beauty had meant danger; it had meant that George would be watching her with those covetous eyes that gave her nightmares. It was different when Redmond looked at her. His hungry gaze excited rather than frightened her. And she realized that Maisie was right—for too long she had denied herself even simple pleasures, and she had begun to think she did not deserve them.
Maisie flashed her a warm smile. “I’ll unpack the rest of the clothes for you during dinner.”
“Thank you, Maisie. For everything.”
