Queen of Diamonds by Bárbara Metzger Page A

in a turn to feel the solid muscle of his chest? At least she had not touched his hair, brushing back a fallen lock. Nor had she squeezed his shoulder to make certain his coat was not padded. But she had wanted to. Gracious, what must his lordship think of her? Queenie was all too afraid she knew. This was the Cyprian’s Ball, after all.
    She was grateful to him, Queenie told herself. That was why she had permitted—and taken—such liberties. Lord Harking had rescued her from Ize and he had stopped asking questions she did not want to answer. Besides, he was a very attractive gentleman, just the right size and breadth. And he was well-mannered, unlike many of the crude, boorish men she saw on the sidelines or overheard making sly innuendoes. Because of them, Lord Harking would not permit her to walk unattended to the rooms set aside for the women to refresh themselves. Too many loose fish, he’d declared, signaling for Browne and Hellen to join them in the corridor.
    Queenie stepped inside the retiring room in relief. She needed to think about what had happened, why she’d let sudden, strange new feelings overcome her logic.
    She had no opportunity to think, though, amid the chirping ladybirds who filled the room. They were trilling about this lord, that gentleman, which officer, what merchant had the most money and—with a laugh—the mightiest sword.
    Queenie could not pretend to misunderstand. She blushed, to the other women’s hilarity. She was not the only one who had too much champagne, too much of the potent punch. Poor Lord Harking would blush too, Queenie thought, to hear his manly attributes so debated.
    Thankfully Queenie herself, or Madame Denise Lescartes, soon became the topic of the conversation, she and her gowns.
Non
, she chose not to speak of France, but
oui
, she could create an original design for one women, and
oui
, she could copy a favorite style for another. A costume for a masquerade? An outfit to visit one’s lover’s unknowing sister?
Certainement
. But Queenie could also advise as to the best colors, the most flattering styles. Without looking directly at any of the women, she hinted how she could enhance a long neck or hide an unsightly bulge. Her designs were meant to flatter, not merely follow the latest trends.
    She handed out the card for her store and warned that her prices were high, which made her all the more appealing to the avid listeners.
    A true lady never discussed finances. These women discussed little else but money and the means to it. They appreciated another businesswoman and swore to start patronizing the Morningside shop as soon as they found someone to pay the bills, or pawned another bit of jewelry.
    Queenie would have enough cash to purchase French fabrics and hire expert seamstresses. Soon she could start repaying Jack Endicott and Lord Carde. She handed out more calling cards.
    Hellen was adding a bit more rouge to her cheeks and complaining that she had not met nearly enough gentlemen to make any kind of choice.
    â€œBe happy you have a good man like Mr. Browne at your side,” Queenie told her. “Many of the so-called gentlemen I have seen tonight are not fit to wipe your shoes.”
    â€œWhat, are my slippers scuffed?” Hellen raised her hems to look. Then she tugged down the neckline of her gown. “So they won’t notice my feet.”
    Queenie pulled up the bodice before Hellen could ruin the gown. She was disgusted, at the younger girl and at herself. They should never have come to this ball, business or not. The lax morals were as contagious as the influenza. And almost as deadly.
    * * *
    Harry stayed near the room set aside for the ladies. He would gladly have gone out with Browne to find a privy, but he could not like leaving the women unattended. Some of the men were beyond pleasantly inebriated and could not be trusted. Others were stone-cold sober and could not be trusted.
    At first he felt awkward,