To Taste Temptation (Legend of the Four Soldiers #1)(24)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“It’s quite all right, miss.” Her maid, Evans, didn’t even glance up as she bustled about the room, collecting the debris from Rebecca’s toilet.

Rebecca tugged one more time at her bodice and then gave up. Evans had been personally recommended by Lady Emeline, and if the maid said it was required that Rebecca go to her first London ball nude, Rebecca would follow her suggestion. She’d been to many dances and social events in Boston, of course, but Lady Emeline had made it quite clear that a London ball was an entirely different matter.

All this trouble over her only served to make Rebecca feel guilty. It’d been she who had badgered Samuel into taking her on this trip. Now, he apparently felt obliged to spend great sums of money on her so she’d be entertained in London. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind when she begged to accompany him. All she’d wanted was to spend some time with him. Perhaps learn to know her older brother just a little better. Rebecca wandered over to a chair as she thought.

“No,” the maid called.

Rebecca froze in an unladylike half-crouch over the chair.

Evans gave a strained smile. “We don’t want to wrinkle our skirts, do we?”

Rebecca straightened. “But when I sit in the carriage, surely—”

“Can’t be helped, can it?” the maid chirped. “More’s the pity, really. I don’t know why these clever gentlemen don’t invent a method for a lady to travel to a ball standing up.”

“Oh, yes?” Rebecca murmured faintly.

Evans was a small, dark-haired woman who was dauntingly fashionable. Her panniers were so wide, she could hardly do her duties as maid. Actually, Rebecca was rather terrified of her.

Although the maid seemed to be trying to be friendly. “Perhaps we can go downstairs and rest in the small sitting room? Not in the hallway, of course. A lady should never be seen to hang about waiting for her carriage to arrive.”

“Of course.” Rebecca turned to the door, feeling rather relieved.

“Remember, we mustn’t sit!” her maid caroled after her.

“I wonder if we will be allowed to use the necessary,” Rebecca muttered to herself as she negotiated the stairs in her wide skirts.

She looked about guiltily to see if anyone had overheard her crass remark. The only person she could see was a single footman—the black-haired one—in the downstairs hall, and he stared straight ahead, apparently deaf to all that went on around him. Rebecca blew out a breath of relief. She continued down the stairs without incident until she came to the last step. There she somehow caught her heel on her hem and had a bad moment when she teetered ungracefully until she caught the banister with both hands. She froze, still clutching the wooden ball at the end of the stair banister, and glanced over at the footman. He was now looking at her, one foot forward as if he’d been about to leap to her rescue. When their gazes met, he withdrew his foot and resumed staring forward woodenly.

Oh, how embarrassing! She couldn’t even walk in her own skirts without falling down the stairs in front of the servants. Rebecca carefully placed both feet on the marble hallway and released the banister. She took a moment to smooth her skirts and then walked determinedly toward the doors to her right. The doors were tall and made of dark wood, and the handles were proportionately large. Rebecca grasped one and pulled.

Nothing happened.

Sweat broke out at her hairline. The black-haired footman would think she was an absolute ninny. Why did the man have to be so lovely? It was one thing to make an ass of oneself in front of an old, balding man, and quite another—

He cleared his throat directly behind her.

Rebecca yelped and swung around. The footman’s beautiful green eyes were wide and startled, but he merely said, “If I might, miss?”

He reached around her and pushed open the door.

Rebecca stared past the open door and into the library. Oh, Lord. “Actually, I believe I’ve changed my mind. I’d like the sitting room, please.” And she pointed behind him like a small, slightly backward child.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to find her at all odd. “Aye, mum.” He pivoted and opened the door across the hall.

Rebecca held her head high and swanned across the hallway, but as she neared the footman, she could see quite plainly that his gaze was not where it should be. She stopped dead and slapped her hands over her bosom.

“It’s too low, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to that maid. She might not mind her boobies hanging out for all to see, but I just can’t—” Her brain suddenly caught up with her mouth. She removed her hands from her bosom and slapped them over her awful, awful, awful mouth.

And then she just stared at the gorgeous black-haired footman, who was staring back at her. There really wasn’t anything else to do, except possibly die right here in her brother’s London town house hallway, and that option, unfortunately, seemed very unlikely at the moment.

Finally, he cleared his throat again. “You’re the fairest lass I’ve ever seen, mum, and in that gown, you look just like a princess, you do.”

Rebecca blinked and cautiously removed her hands. “Really?”

“Swear on me mam’s grave,” he said earnestly.

“Oh, is your mother dead, too?”

He nodded.

“That’s a pity, isn’t it? My mother died when I was born, and I never knew her.”

“Me mam died two years ago this Michaelmas,” he said in a soft kind of burr.

“I’m sorry.”

He merely shrugged. “After me youngest sister was born. Eldest of ten, that’s me.”

She smiled up at him. “You don’t sound like the other servants.”

“That’s because I’m Irish, mum.” His green eyes seemed to twinkle at her.

“Then, why—”

But she was interrupted by her brother’s voice. “Are you ready to leave, Rebecca?”

She jumped and spun for the second time that night. Samuel stood three risers above her on the stairs.

“I wish you’d make some sort of noise when you move,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows, his gaze flicking to the footman. Rebecca followed his look and found that the black-haired footman stood against the wall again, his eyes straight ahead. It was as if he were a magical creature who’d turned back into wood.

“O’Hare, will you get the door?” Samuel asked, and for a moment Rebecca wondered to whom he spoke.