while I pin yer ‘air. Let’s see. She laces ‘er talk with ‘m’lady’ this and that, an’ speaks nothin’ but flatterin’ words, lies mostly, but they all seem to like ‘er. At any rate, she’s the golden calf around ‘ere, an’ even sups with Mr. Calvert in the evenin’.” Sonya drove the last hairpin into place, muttering, “That’s the best I can do. I’m no ladies’ maid, any more than ye’re a real show woman.”
“It’s fine. How do I look?” Alexandra turned on her toes so Sonya could view her from all sides.
“Beautiful. I wouldn’t ‘ave guessed it would be so easy, but ye look as good as any show woman I’ve ever seen, if ye are a mite underfed. Just remember, work quickly and don’t say anythin’ unless ye ‘ave to.”
Alexandra nodded again. Physically she stood ready for the charade, but her insides quaked. “Give me a moment to prepare my mind,” she pleaded when Sonya hurried her to the door.
“That would only make it ‘arder for ye. Come on”—she motioned—”I’m sure Lady Anne is not used to waitin’.”
When Sonya ushered her into the vast rectangular drawing room where Mr. Calvert sat with his guest, Alexandra couldn’t stop herself from staring. The furnishings were luxurious. Despite her nerves and her self-consciousness, she admired all she saw. Large gilded mirrors alternated with panels of richly textured green wallpaper; and a thick burgundy, green, and beige rug stretched across the floor. Three elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their cut glass twinkling overhead, and heavy, burgundy-colored draperies with gold tassels encased the windows.
Alexandra’s heels tapped on the shiny wood floor, then sank into the deep pile of the rug as she walked toward the far wall, where a fire burned brightly and two women sat opposite Mr. Calvert. Engrossed in conversation as they sipped tea, they did not bother to look up until Mr. Calvert’s eyes darted in her direction.
“My lady, let me introduce Miss Alexandra,” he said, finally drawing their attention to her. “She is our new show woman and will mend your gown so you can be on your way. You must be eager to reach your mother. Scotland is so far, after all.”
Alexandra’s stomach fluttered, and she wished she had eaten. Nourishment of some kind might have steadied her nerves.
Stopping several feet in front of the small group, she curtseyed as the women glanced at her before continuing their conversation with Mr. Calvert.
“Yes, poor Mother has been ill over a year and does not seem to improve,” Lady Anne complained while Alexandra studied her face. She was a beautiful woman, with coloring not much different than Alexandra’s own. Blond hair, coiled into two buns dripping with ringlets above each ear, framed an oval face that held wide green eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and an upturned nose. The maid was rather plain and looked at least ten years older, closer to thirty than twenty.
“I’m sorry to hear such distressing news,” Calvert said. “Alexandra will be quick about her work then. She’s an excellent seamstress. We just brought her from Londontown where she apprenticed at Lady Sutherby’s.” He turned his small eyes upon Alexandra, looking as if he believed his own mistruth.
The falsity of Calvert’s words made Alexandra want to duck her head, but she quickly realized that such poor acting on her part would surely give them away. With an effort, she forced her shoulders back and her head up.
Lady Anne’s brow rose slightly as she turned to Alexandra.
Calvert nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you ladies to your business.” Though the words poured easily from his mouth, Alexandra understood the pointed smile that rested on his face. Do it now and make it fast, he urged.
Alexandra was grateful that her speech, at least, indicated her own good breeding. “It shouldn’t take but a few moments,” she promised.
Calvert gave Lady Anne and her maid a sweeping bow before