The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

“And I’m Ursula.” A buxom wench with golden hair stepped forward. She walked with an exaggerated sway of the hips, a ploy often used by courtesans to flaunt their wares. Then again, after her scandalous encounter with Lord Martin, Lillian was ill-equipped to judge a person’s morals. “I’m to be your maid, my lady, if you’ll have me.”

“Forgive me, m-my lady,” Nancy stuttered. “I expect you’re used to choosing your own staff, but here good girls are scarce. Ursula’s the only one who knows how to style a lady’s hair, having once worked in a fancy house in London.”

Lillian didn’t need a maid. Fabian promised her a life without fuss. It was one of the many reasons she’d accepted his proposal. But as a lady trained to run a large house, she knew the value of good relationships with one’s staff.

“I’m grateful to you all and welcome your help.”

“Perhaps tomorrow I could give you a tour of the castle and introduce you to t

he staff. That’s if you’re of a mind to leave the master’s bed.” Nancy slapped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes grew so wide her lashes almost touched her brows. “Oh, Lord, I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

Ursula shook her head. “You must forgive our crude ways, my lady. We’re used to speaking as we please and forget to mind our tongues.”

“In truth, I find your honesty refreshing.” She’d had a gutful of lies and deceit, of fake smiles and cruel whispers. “You may speak freely and know that I shall do the same.”

With a collective exhale of breath, the women’s shoulders relaxed.

“Then we need to get you into the tub if we’ve any hope of having you ready by eleven.” Nancy beckoned Lillian from the bed. “I know if I were marrying Lord Ravenscroft I’d be darting about like a March hare.”

The women sighed as though the man in question was the most coveted of the species, not a kidnapper using an innocent woman to his own end.

The sudden thought that this was her wedding day caused a flurry of mixed emotions. For a few precious seconds, her heart swelled. She had expected to live a lonely existence, to die a spinster. Ten years ago, she’d have given anything to marry Fabian. If only she could rouse the same sense of excitement she experienced then. But it was hopeless. Inside she was a hollow cavern, a dark empty place long since abandoned.

“If I were marrying Lord Ravenscroft, I’d save my energy,” Heather said with a chuckle.

Lillian’s stomach flipped, and her blood raced hot through her veins. “Lord Ravenscroft is the one who’ll need to conserve his energy.” Oh, he’d have to do some chasing if he hoped to lure her to his bed.

“We’ll all need the strength of a saint if we’re not ready to meet Mackenzie.” Nancy came over to the bed and offered her hand. “Come, my lady. Time is of the essence as they say.”

The next hour passed by in a blur. Lillian clutched the locket in her palm for fear of getting it wet as she slid into the tub. Numerous times Nancy advised her to remove it but she needed it today more than ever. With no time to wash and dry her hair, Ursula sprayed it with rosewater, curled and pinned it into a simple chignon. The silk dress she’d worn to Vauxhall had vanished. No doubt someone had the task of pressing out the creases and wiping mud off the hem.

Nancy hurried into the room carrying a different dress. “This one is nowhere near as pretty as the one you’d choose yourself.” She held the garment aloft. “But it’s new and will fit you like a glove.”

The high-waisted morning dress in pale muslin was a shade lighter than peach, a shade darker than ivory. The only adornment consisted of a length of orange ribbon tied beneath the bosom.

The hairs on her neck prickled. Had Fabian been so confident in his skills of persuasion that he’d already purchased a wedding outfit? “Is this the dress Lord Ravenscroft wishes me to wear?” She could not keep the disdain from her voice. For a man who promised freedom, he took control of every situation.

“His lordship made no mention of a dress,” Nancy said. “Mackenzie found this in one of the chests given to Lord Ravenscroft after his last voyage. Merchants often offer a bounty if their goods arrive on time.”

Once again, it was Mackenzie who had her best interests at heart. Fabian wouldn’t care if she married him wearing nothing but her chemise.

“There’s a string of pearls that would look pretty draped around your fine neck.”

Lillian stroked her locket. “I’ve no need for jewels.”

Nancy pursed her lips as her gaze drifted to the gold necklace, but she said nothing.

The women set about dressing her. Ursula tugged the ties on her corset as though hauling a hundred fish in a net.

“Not too tight else I’m liable to swoon.”

“If Lord Ravenscroft were waiting at the altar for me, I’d swoon,” Heather said with a giggle. “And I’d get there an hour early in case he thought to change his mind.”

Why would Fabian change his mind when her co-operation was part of his plan?

With care, Nancy and Ida lifted the dress over her head. They brushed and fiddled with the material until it covered her body like a second skin. Ursula slid the orange length of satin around Lillian’s waist and cinched it tight under the bosom.

They all stepped back and surveyed their work.