“Was Master Dawson there?” Angelique asked, taking her gold gown from the maid’s arms as she entered the bedchamber.
“That ’e was.” Feet planted in the used shoes Lucia had bought her, the prostitute-turned-lady’s-maid sashayed her hips, blushing like a schoolgirl.
“He is handsome.” Sapphire smiled.
“Ya seen ’im?” Avena carried Sapphire’s gown to the bed and began to uncover it carefully.
In the center of the room, Angelique clasped the shoulders of her gown and shook it eagerly, sending the muslin cover floating across the floor.
“I can ’elp ya in a minu’,” Avena said.
“I can do it myself. You help Sapphire, Avena. She’s got her drawers all in a twist between worrying she can’t play this game with these fops, and thinking of Mr. You-Know-Who.”
“I am not thinking about him and I don’t know why you keep bringing him up.”
“Stan’ still, puddin’, else yer gown’ll never go on right.” Avena wrestled the yards of exquisite blue fabric over her charge’s head.
Sapphire groaned and forced herself to stand stock-still, arms in the air, as the maid slid the gown on. “I’m just not as good at
this as you are, Angelique.” She pouted, the room suddenly dark as her eyes were covered by the bulk of the gown. “But you’re right. I know I can do it. I know I can make these men want me.”
“’Course ya can.” Avena gave the gown a tug and Sapphire’s head popped out. “Every woman go’ the talens if she dig down deep.”
Angelique chuckled. “Avena, I really think you should take Sapphire up on her offer to help you speak properly. I haven’t the patience for it, but I’m certain she does. She did much better with schooling than I did.”
Sapphire turned so Avena could button the back of her gown. “Because you were too busy sneaking away from the nuns to play hide-and-seek with all the village boys.”
Angelique grinned as she squirmed, tugging at her gown until it lay just right over her breasts. “We all have our talens.”
“We’ll begin tomorrow, Avena.” Sapphire smiled.
“Really? ’Cause then maybe ol’ Avena get up the narve to speak to ’im.”
“You haven’t even spoke to him?” Angelique exclaimed.
“No, too scart.”
“Too scared?” Sapphire asked, enunciating carefully.
“Aye, too scared.” Avena mimicked Sapphire almost painfully in her attempt to pronounce the words correctly. “’E’s gonna be a ’ailor, out on his own soon. Why, ’e’s likely to have ’is own shop one day!”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Sapphire smiled at Avena. “You, Avena Croft, the tailor’s wife.”
Avena blushed and drew her bleached white apron up over her face. “No man good as Dawson would want no ol’ ’ho like me.”
“Well, I heard from the baker’s daughter yesterday, the little one with the red pigtails, that he was asking about you,” Sapphire sang, walking to the floor-length mirror to get the first glimpse of herself in her new gown.
“No!” Avena slid the apron down from her face and then comically pulled it up again. “Yer lyin’ sure as yer speakin’,” she giggled from beneath the apron.
“I’m not.” She glanced at Avena over her shoulder. “Tomorrow we start our lessons in earnest, and I will not take no for an answer.”
“Aye, Miss Sapphire.” Avena curtsied, walked toward the door and curtsied again, her face flushed.
After days of cajoling, they had learned that Avena was actually only eighteen years old. It was tragic what a short time on the streets could do to a woman. The longer Sapphire lived in London, the more she discovered that while there were many exciting and beautiful things for the privileged, for most of the city there was abject poverty, pestilence and even death. It was terrible that there could be so much grief and sadness in such a wonderful place.
“Girls!” Lucia called from down the hall. “Are we almost ready? Your escorts will be here any moment and Mr. Stowe has arrived!”
“Bad news, monsieur?”