Sapphire

“What I also seen,” Hattie continued, “was that floozy Miss Fabergine, the one that’s got all the single gentlemen in the city all hot and randy. She was wearin’ practically the same fancy white silk dress. Same mask on a stick, too, with all them feathers, but she looked a sight better than the lady, I’ll warrant you that.” She opened her mouth wide and then closed it in an unsuccessful attempt to relieve the itch on her nose. “What was they supposed to be?”

“I don’t know, some kind of white duck or something, I s’pose.” Odelia planted her feet farther apart to keep her tray balanced while she waited to gain entrance to the busy kitchen. “You think that girl copied Lady Harris’ dress?” Her eyes now adjusted to the dark, Odelia looked at her companion, authority in her voice. “You know these society women, always tryin’ to best each other. I hear they pay a lot a money to their fancy dressmakers just so they can show up in a dress the same as someone else and make a fool of ’em.”

“Nobody even knows if Miss Fabergine is society.” She paused. “You heard, right?”

“That she says she’s the old Lord Wessex’s daughter?” Odelia whispered loudly.

Hattie nodded. “Wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

“It’s a lie. Always is, but ’bout that gown, didn’t you hear Tula the other day?”

“Tula?” Hattie eyes widened until they were as round as the dirty plates she carried. “Who’s Tula?”

“One of the missus’ handmaids. The one with the harelip.”

“That’s right. I know her.” Hattie nodded, her mobcap beginning to slide over her forehead.

“She said the lady sent one of the livery boys all over town with a little bag a money, tryin’ to find out what Miss Fabergine was wearin’.”

Odelia snickered. “Like the missus was ever gonna look like that with them ham hocks for thighs. I don’t think I ever seen a prettier woman than that Miss Fabergine, I don’t care if she is indecent.”

“It’s the red hair, ya know. My mama always said the redheads was the floozies. Born like that.” Hattie nodded as if it was the gospel and then turned to face the door and shouted, “Somebody comin’ to let us in, or are we gonna die out here!”

“Hold yer herses,” a muffled voice called from inside the kitchen.

“You think one of these glasses is his?” Odelia asked, her eyes dreamy as she studied the tray that was beginning to make her arms hurt.

“Who?”

“Lord Wessex. I swear by the Saints alive and dead, he’s a fine-lookin’ man. An American, they say.”

“Don’t matter what he is. He ain’t never speakin’ to you.”

“I know that,” Odelia sighed. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?”

The door opened and they were immediately assaulted by the heat and noise of the kitchen. One of the kitchen boys, wiping his hands on his dirty apron, stepped into the hall to hold it so they could enter.

“You ought to be dreamin’ about somebody who can feed ya and keep a roof over yer head, that’s what you ought to be dreamin’, Odelia. A fine man like my Denley.” Hattie looked at the kitchen boy as she passed him. “You got a brother, don’t you? Elwood?”

The boy, who couldn’t have been more than nine or ten, blushed and nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the stone floor. “Works in the stables, ma’am.”

“Now there’s a man a woman can dream about,” Hattie instructed, walking into the kitchen. “A decent man who could take care of you, Odelia.”

“Elwood in the barn?” Odelia wrinkled her nose as she followed Hattie, who was the more experienced of the two when it came to men. Nearly seventeen, Hattie was marrying a sailor just as soon as he returned from sea. “Ain’t he the one who got the blind eye that rolls around crazy-like when he talks to ya?”

“Eh,” Hattie called over her shoulder. “The eye ain’t so bad if you don’t look right at it….”

“Something to drink, my darling?” Lord Thomas asked Sapphire, drawing his face inappropriately close to hers.

They stood in an alcove off the Lord and Lady Harris’s ballroom and Sapphire was feeling a bit lightheaded. The rooms were too warm and too loud, and after being there for hours, she was tired of smiling and laughing and playing this part she was no longer convinced she could play.

The cream of society, bejeweled and gowned, had attended the annual masquerade ball, including members of parliament and court, dukes and duchesses, barons and baronesses. There was word even King William might make an appearance before dawn on his way home to the palace after one of his infamous nights of drinking and carousing the streets of London.

Having taken the throne after the death of his brother the previous year, the king was well-received by his people. Though Sapphire did not entirely understand the principles behind the Reform Act that gave parliament more power and the monarchy less, it was being said in newspapers that the king was “playing a difficult hand with considerable finesse.”

Sapphire drew back slightly since Charles’s breath smelled of whiskey or some other type of strong drink. He and the other gentlemen had been none-too-secretly passing a silver flask around earlier. Apparently Lady Harris did not serve anything stronger than a good Madeira in her home, which presented the gentlemen with a dilemma when it came to accepting the annual invitation.

“A drink would be nice, thank you,” she told Charles. She deliberately let her eyes sparkle in the provocative manner Angelique had taught h