“Not yet, I have not, Miss Breton.”
Sapphire couldn’t help it; she had to look. She shifted the silver tray in her hands and turned slightly.
More giggles.
“Don’t tell me you plan to seduce Mr. Thixton.”
Clarice clasped the other woman’s hand and moved closer to her. Sapphire could feel anger building in the pit of her stomach as she clenched the tray tighter in her hands.
“Tomorrow night,” Clarice explained. “My parents and I are supposed to attend some benefit or another at the new art gallery on Trudeau. Mr. Thixton declined the invitation, pleading too much work to be done.” She rolled her hazel eyes.
“Which means he’ll be home alone tomorrow night,” the woman whispered in a conspiratory tone.
“I’ll come to him with one excuse or another. I’ll allow him to seduce me.” Clarice tapped her companion on the shoulder with her fan. “And then, in a few days I’ll run to Papa in tears and confess my terrible sin.”
“Your father will confront Mr. Thixton and he will have no choice—”
“But to marry me or never show his face in public again.” Clarice took her friend’s hand and squeezed it.
Myra turned slightly toward Sapphire and opened her eyes wide.
Sapphire clenched her jaw and took a sudden step in front of Myra. “May I take your glass, Miss Lawrence?” she asked, looking directly at the beautiful young woman as she thrust out the silver tray.
“Why, yes, I suppose.” Clarice took a step back, obviously surprised by the servant’s forwardness.
“Take mine, too,” the friend said, dropping her glass carelessly onto the tray, nearly tipping it. “It really wasn’t very good lemonade. Tell your cook,” she ordered Sapphire without looking at her. Then she grabbed Clarice’s wrist and they walked away. “The moment you’re wed, some changes will obviously need to take place in this household. The insolence of the servants is simply unacceptable.”
“What are you doing?” Myra whispered insistently under her breath the moment the two guests were out of earshot.
“Collecting the glasses.” Sapphire walked to the next guest, nearly snatching the glass from her hand. Then the next, then the next. All Myra could do was follow behind her.
“What was that about?” Myra gasped when they were in the servants’ hall, bound for the kitchen.
Sapphire sighed. “We have to stop her.”
Myra shook her head vehemently. “The house staff never interferes. We only listen.”
Sapphire raised her eyebrows, feeling for the first time in days that she was taking control of her own life. “In this case, that’s simply not acceptable.”
Myra’s eyes narrowed. “It simply ain’t acceptable?” She perched one hand on her hip. “You know, I didn’t ask about why you were on the street that Mr. Thixton needed to be rescuin’ you, but tell Myra the truth—you weren’t no servant before, were you?”
“I don’t want to talk about my past, Myra.” Balancing the silver tray with one hand, she reached out and caught her friend by the sleeve and led her down the hall. “What I do want is for you to help me with something. Something that will keep Miss Lawrence out of Mr. Thixton’s bed.”
Myra was shocked. “That’s no concern of mine nor yours, missy. You want to be tossed out on your ear?”
Sapphire looked her in the eye. “Do you want Miss Lawrence to become your mistress? Because you know, the first thing a woman like her does when she marries is fire every pretty young parlor maid in the house.”
“And bring in the ugly cows or girls so used or old they don’t turn the master’s head.”
Sapphire nearly laughed. “Myra, do you like your job here?” She rested her arm on Myra’s shoulder.
She nodded. “Easy work, long as you stay in Mrs. Dedrick’s good graces.”
“Then Miss Lawrence cannot come to the house tomorrow night.”
“Molly, what are you going to do?” They both started down the hall again.
“I’m not exactly certain,” Sapphire said, but she was already forming a strategy in her head. It was terribly mean, but it would serve to be effective if she could manage it. “Didn’t you say your grandmother was a healer and that she taught you how to make all kinds of tonics?”