Page 25 of The Courtship Trap
“Because I had the illusion of purpose then,” Harriet groaned, tugging at the fitted pelisse that clung to her shoulders. “Now, it is a cage. Help me out of it before I lose what little patience I have left.”
“Arms up.”
“They are up,” Harriet snapped. “The pelisse is simply refusing to yield.”
Evaline tugged. The garment, snug-fitting and stubborn, refused to budge.
“You must relax your shoulders.”
“I am relaxed. You are pulling like you intend to detach my arms entirely!”
“It is caught on the back seams. Hold still.”
With a sharp yank, the pelisse gave way, sending Evaline stumbling backward and Harriet spinning to grip the bench for balance.
“Victory,” Evaline declared, holding the garment aloft like a prize.
“Victory?” Harriet gasped. “I nearly perished in the attempt!”
Sitting down, she began to tug on the next resistive item.
“These cursed boots,” Harriet muttered, propping one leg onto the bench. “Evaline, you must pull.”
“I should never have agreed to this.”
“And yet you did. Now pull!”
With a great heave, the boot came free, sending Evaline toppling backward into the copper tub with a resounding clang.
“Oh, heavens!” Harriet cried, covering her mouth. “Evaline, are you well?”
Evaline sat in the tub, hair askew, an expression of calm resignation on her face. “Remind me again why we have no lady’s maid to do for us?”
Harriet sank onto the bench, laughing until tears welled.
“Because I am a fool. A complete and utter fool.” Then she sobered, rising to go stand beside the tub. “But mostly, because I must make sure it is a woman whom Bertram Hargreaves cannot persuade to spy on me. My father is a snake, but he can be most seductive when he wishes to be.”
“Then we shall struggle on, doing for each other,” Evaline replied as she climbed back out of the tub with Harriet’s assistance. “I, of course, am in no position to make demands when you have done so much for me, but I hate to see you frustrated with my novice skills.” Evaline lifted the dark blue walking gown from the rack—simple but elegant, with a high bodice, long sleeves, and modest embroidery at the cuffs.
Harriet turned around to contemplate her friend. “You are a valued friend, Evaline. Having you as a guest helps me just as much as it helps you. You need not feel timid about making demands.”
Evaline smiled, returning to her side. “Thank you … for everything.”
Harriet reached out, wrapping her arms around her guest’s delicate frame. “You are most welcome. I am pleased to offer you my address on a prestigious street and access to my motley crewof servants, for what they are worth. It is not right that your late husband’s family is withholding your stipend.”
“My solicitors assure me it will be resolved soon, but you bought me much-needed time to sort it out.”
“Not at all … I hope you will remain in residence even then. I need the company, and this house is far too large for one lonely widow. Your funds will stretch further without the cost of high rent and a staff.”
Evaline dropped her head in affection against Harriet’s shoulder, being inches shorter. “Thank you.”
Her voice was suspiciously thick, and Harriet had to discreetly lift a hand to swipe at her own moistened lashes. Stepping back, Harriet turned around again to finish the torture of changing. Next came the petticoats, two lighter layers more suited for the walking gown, and then it was time for the gown itself.
“Arms up,” Evaline instructed.
“We shall see if I survive this round.”
The gown proved uncooperative, catching first on Harriet’s elbows, then refusing to slide over the structured stays.
