was painted in the center, from which hung a fluted glass chandelier.
A maidservant came shyly forward and introduced herself in halting English as Martine. At the knock on the door, she went to open it, and Jane’s trunks were trotted in.
Once the footmen had departed, the laborious process of removing her female garments commenced. First her dress and then her corset, until she at last stood clad only in her chemisette. The maid reached for it, but Jane drew back.
“I require privacy for bathing,” she murmured.
The maid looked surprised but merely curtseyed in assent. She carried a bucket of steaming water from the fireplace and added it to water already in the tub to reheat it.
“I shall unpack your trunks?” she inquired.
“Si,” Jane told her, forcing a smile.
Slipping behind the painted screen, she disrobed and bathed hastily, not wanting Nick to return before she finished.
She peeked around the screen and saw that Martine was sorting through her belongings, hanging clothing in the armoire and settling bottles and brushes on the dressing table. She seemed in an unusual hurry to complete her duties and be gone.
The maid’s nervousness communicated itself to Jane, and her hands shook as she dried herself and took the nightgown Martine had tactfully draped over the screen. Only after the wisp of silk slid over her head to fall in folds at her bare feet did she emerge into the room.
While Martine was bent over the trunks, Jane presented her back to the mirror. Her quick inspection relieved her when she saw that the gown did in fact cover her shoulder blades. She’d specifically requested of her aunt’s dressmaker that this be the case, but there hadn’t been time to try it on to ascertain whether the drape was as ordered.
The maid came to stand behind her. “E bella,” she enthused as she took down and brushed out Jane’s hair.
“Grazie,” said Jane. To her embarrassment, she couldn’t control the tremor in her voice. The maid shot her a sympathetic smile. Jane looked away from the pity that shaded her eyes, and her gaze fell on her reflection in the mirror.
She sucked in a shocked breath. While she’d been concerned only with the proportions of the back of the gown, her aunt had engineered the rest of it into a design that seemed far too provocative.
Under other circumstances, she might have luxuriated in the slide of the cool, fine fabric across her skin. Enjoyed the faintly scratchy texture of the lace insets of the low, rounded bodice that barely concealed the tips of her breasts. She might have appreciated the design in its entirety, except for the fact that she knew a man—a veritable stranger—was going to view her in it.
When her maid determined she was sufficiently perfumed and primped for her husband’s impending visit, she gave her an encouraging smile and departed.
Jane’s reflection showed she was now properly prepared to become a wife, at least on the surface. On the inside, it was a different matter.
Again she checked her back in the mirror, shifting this way and that to determine what movement might reveal.
Satisfied that the gown covered her secrets well enough, she moved to the window and pulled the drape aside. She breathed deep of the calming, verdant odors of eucalyptus and pine cooling down after the warmth of the day. From somewhere in the distance came the notes of a wind pipe being played.
A row of cypresses speared skyward on the horizon, inked silhouettes against a blue-black sky. The moon was a thin sliver that shed little light on the grounds. Somewhere out there lay a shadowy forest filled with ancient plants.
Did it contain the curative she sought? She planned to find out. And soon.
Emma’s future, and her own, depended upon it.
Nick entered her bedchamber moments later wearing a fulllength brocade robe loosely belted at the waist. His gaze fell on the empty bed, and then he spied Jane at the window.
Her gown rustled as she turned, stirring his
A maidservant came shyly forward and introduced herself in halting English as Martine. At the knock on the door, she went to open it, and Jane’s trunks were trotted in.
Once the footmen had departed, the laborious process of removing her female garments commenced. First her dress and then her corset, until she at last stood clad only in her chemisette. The maid reached for it, but Jane drew back.
“I require privacy for bathing,” she murmured.
The maid looked surprised but merely curtseyed in assent. She carried a bucket of steaming water from the fireplace and added it to water already in the tub to reheat it.
“I shall unpack your trunks?” she inquired.
“Si,” Jane told her, forcing a smile.
Slipping behind the painted screen, she disrobed and bathed hastily, not wanting Nick to return before she finished.
She peeked around the screen and saw that Martine was sorting through her belongings, hanging clothing in the armoire and settling bottles and brushes on the dressing table. She seemed in an unusual hurry to complete her duties and be gone.
The maid’s nervousness communicated itself to Jane, and her hands shook as she dried herself and took the nightgown Martine had tactfully draped over the screen. Only after the wisp of silk slid over her head to fall in folds at her bare feet did she emerge into the room.
While Martine was bent over the trunks, Jane presented her back to the mirror. Her quick inspection relieved her when she saw that the gown did in fact cover her shoulder blades. She’d specifically requested of her aunt’s dressmaker that this be the case, but there hadn’t been time to try it on to ascertain whether the drape was as ordered.
The maid came to stand behind her. “E bella,” she enthused as she took down and brushed out Jane’s hair.
“Grazie,” said Jane. To her embarrassment, she couldn’t control the tremor in her voice. The maid shot her a sympathetic smile. Jane looked away from the pity that shaded her eyes, and her gaze fell on her reflection in the mirror.
She sucked in a shocked breath. While she’d been concerned only with the proportions of the back of the gown, her aunt had engineered the rest of it into a design that seemed far too provocative.
Under other circumstances, she might have luxuriated in the slide of the cool, fine fabric across her skin. Enjoyed the faintly scratchy texture of the lace insets of the low, rounded bodice that barely concealed the tips of her breasts. She might have appreciated the design in its entirety, except for the fact that she knew a man—a veritable stranger—was going to view her in it.
When her maid determined she was sufficiently perfumed and primped for her husband’s impending visit, she gave her an encouraging smile and departed.
Jane’s reflection showed she was now properly prepared to become a wife, at least on the surface. On the inside, it was a different matter.
Again she checked her back in the mirror, shifting this way and that to determine what movement might reveal.
Satisfied that the gown covered her secrets well enough, she moved to the window and pulled the drape aside. She breathed deep of the calming, verdant odors of eucalyptus and pine cooling down after the warmth of the day. From somewhere in the distance came the notes of a wind pipe being played.
A row of cypresses speared skyward on the horizon, inked silhouettes against a blue-black sky. The moon was a thin sliver that shed little light on the grounds. Somewhere out there lay a shadowy forest filled with ancient plants.
Did it contain the curative she sought? She planned to find out. And soon.
Emma’s future, and her own, depended upon it.
Nick entered her bedchamber moments later wearing a fulllength brocade robe loosely belted at the waist. His gaze fell on the empty bed, and then he spied Jane at the window.
Her gown rustled as she turned, stirring his
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