by Anne Mallory
Calliope grimaced. Angelford ordering dresses for his mistress was obviously a common occurrence. Madame Giselle hadn’t needed a dress size or even a particularly good description of the gown.
" Corinne, come with me. We shall fit Esmerelda."
Calliope blinked. How had the woman known her name?
Stephen waved in dismissal and grabbed a cake. Angelford lifted a cup of tea and watched her.
Giselle ushered her into the fitting area, where Corinne helped Calliope out of her gown. Stripped to her shift, Calliope stood waiting.
Madame Giselle studied her, lips pursed and one finger tapping her lips. "Corinne, the peacock satin. Quickly."
Corinne ran from the room.
"I think we will try darker colors first, yes?" Madame Giselle didn’t wait for a response. She turned to the doorway. "Corinne, hurry. "
A shadow filled the doorway and Calliope tried to will Corinne to move faster. It was chilly standing nearly naked.
It was not Corinne in the doorway. Calliope’s first instinct was to throw her hands in front of her, but obstinacy prevailed and she maintained her stance, jutting her chin forward.
"My lord, you are not allowed in here." Madame Giselle was frowning.
Angelford didn’t seem to notice. His gaze lazily scanned Calliope from head to toe, lighting each spot on fire as his eyes dropped. "Try not to spend Stephen’s money all in one spot, love."
She placed her hands on her hips. "It’s not Stephens money that you have to worry about being spent. Good day, my lord."
He doffed his hat, smiled and turned. Madame Giselle followed him out. Calliope ran her fingers down the shift as if to lengthen it. She tried to cool her body and mind. He was turning her into a bawdy actress.
Madame Giselle returned, pushing Corinne in front of her. "Please excuse the intrusion, mademoiselle. I don’t know what his lordship was thinking."
The next few hours were a whirlwind of pins, fabric, designs and fittings. Calliope was forced to select eveningwear, undergarments and riding-habits as well as the requested day dresses. Madame Giselle was adamant she could only gain a sense of a woman’s style by looking at every facet of her dress. Calliope finally relaxed and allowed some of her own taste to show through by making suggestions and recommendations.
Calliope decided on a morning dress in vibrant blue and a day dress in deep green. They would suit her courtesan’s persona. A bolt of pale violet blue caught her eye.
"I would like the two in the forms we discussed. In addition I would like the violet blue in the classic style, something simple." She couldn’t resist the one indulgence for herself, not Esmerelda.
Madame Giselle gave her a measuring look. "Of course, mademoiselle."
"If you could send them to my address, I would be most appreciative. And the bill as well."
"As mademoiselle wishes."
"Thank you, Madame Giselle. Your taste is exquisite and I appreciate the time you have taken with me."
A startled look crossed Madame Giselle’s face, quickly replaced with the measuring look. "It has been a pleasure, mademoiselle. I look forward to finishing more garments for you."
There would be no chance of that, but Calliope nodded.
To her relief Stephen was waiting alone.
"Once more you have made wonderful cakes, Giselle. If you could send ten of each type, words would fail to express my gratitude, " he said.
"For you, anything. But I would have made the cakes without your sponsorship. The ingredients were enough."
Stephen nodded and kissed her hand. Calliope knew she had missed something again, but all of the poking and prodding, standing up and sifting through designs she would never be able to afford, had left her physically and mentally exhausted.
Stephen escorted Calliope from the shop and handed her into his curricle as the tiger jumped on the back. "Would you like to attend the races this weekend?"
She looked at him in surprise. "I would love to. "
"Wonderful. We will meet James and Stella there."
It was too late to back out, but she could feel her lips twist. "Wonderful," she repeated sourly.
He ignored her sarcasm and pulled into traffic. "Madame Giselle should have at least one of the gowns ready for you tomorrow. "
Calliope bounced up the steps to the plain brick townhouse. Sketching in the park was revitalizing. The door was immediately opened and she stepped into the warm, inviting interior. It was like stepping into a forest. Stephen and his plants. Who would have guessed he had a green thumb? An emerald thumb, really. Flora inhabited every section of the house. She had heard more than one maid grumble about living in a jungle.
She placed her sketchpad on the hall table and handed her pelisse to Stephen’s butler, Grimmond, currently on loan to her for a few weeks.
Stephen had inherited the small brick townhouse from an uncle. Since his primary residence was more suited to his needs, he used the smaller townhouse to store and display his numerous and assorted collections. A rudimentary staff managed the house, but - when it was decided Esmerelda needed a place of her own, the unused townhouse had been the easiest solution. Stephen had put his own butler in charge of imposing order and making a smooth transition. A new staff and inexperienced mistress of the household could be a disastrous combination.
"Miss Daly is in your room, and Mr. Chalmers is in the library. A few parcels arrived from Madame Giselle’s an hour ago," Grimmond said in his dry, haughty manner. Calliope wanted to tease the man. He was quite nice when he thought no one was looking, but the presence of two footmen necessitated a display of superiority. She had learned she would receive raised eyebrows and a flat look if she tried anything in front of others.
"Thank you, Grimmond."
Calliope ascended the stairs to see Deirdre first. Bless Madame Giselle, and for more than just the dresses. Adjusting to her new home had been difficult. Calliope had finally gotten a decent night’s sleep thanks to Madame Giselle and her army of marauding Huns. She had been so exhausted she c0uldn’t remember anything past placing her head on the still-unfamiliar pillow.
She entered her room. Clothing littered every surface.
"Where did all of this come from? Dee, did you raid the costumes?"
"One of the girls from Madame Giselle’s brought them. There are ten dresses here. It’s a good thing we are similar in size, because I plan on borrowing quite a few of these."
"There must be some mistake. I ordered three gowns."
"The girl said they were paid in full and the other dresses would be arriving within the week. She wouldn’t even accept money for delivering them."
"But who?
"
Deirdre wasn’t paying any attention. She held up garments for inspection. "Did you order these on two different days? The styles are nearly opposite. "
Calliope looked at the two dresses she held aloft. One had obviously been made for Esmerelda, the other for Calliope. A well-executed plan.
"And look at this riding habit. Is Stephen going to teach you to ride?"
"Excuse me for a moment, Dee. "
Calliope headed down to the library, her favorite room in her new home. Stephen reclined in front of the fireplace reading. A potted fern sat next to him on the floor. The leaves were oddly shaped, which labeled the plant as one of his experiments.
He looked up from the book. "I heard some of your new garments arrived. How do they look?"
"I can’t believe you did this."
"You don’t like them?"
"They’re lovely. That’s not the point. I only needed the three gowns." She could only afford the three gowns.
"You will need more than just those three. If we are to put the proper face on this charade, you must be outfitted in the style I am able to afford. The same argument for you moving into this house applies. Appearances count."
"I will pay you back."
His expression turned serious. "No, you absolutely will not. I can’t explain my reasons
to you, but if you refuse the gowns it will be one of the greatest blows to my honor anyone could make."
"I don’t understand."
"I know, but please trust me."
Calliope nodded for his benefit but resolved to pay him back for the fortune in garments lying in her new bedroom.
She would definitely arrive in Newmarket in style.
"And they’re off!"
Shouts and cries greeted the announcement as the gate went up. Prime horseflesh rounded the track. The crowd urged the riders on and the riders drove the beasts forth.
" Come on, Devil’s Own!"
" Get in there, Cypress Tale! "
"Knock it loose, Credinburgh’s Bane!"
The stands were full of people actively engaged in betting and cheering, seeing and being seen. It was a gorgeous spring day with a crisp breeze and no clouds in the sky. The day reflected the crowd’s mood.
Calliope lapped up the excitement. She wished Deirdre had been able to join them, but rehearsals were in full swing for the new show set to open next month, and the weekend trip to Newmarket had been out of the question. Robert was in the crowd somewhere, but was keeping his distance in public.
"Let’s look at the horses in the next race," Stephen suggested.
Calliope put her hand on his arm and they joined the crowd of onlookers. The horses fascinated her. She had never learned to ride, and the powerful beasts were captivating on the track.
They didn’t look nearly so primal when they were being danced in the park with delicate ladies perched side-saddle.
A gorgeous, spirited black stallion caught her attention.
"I like number five."
Stephen smiled and rolled up the sheet of statistics. "Excellent choice. I believe I will also choose five."
Stephen escorted her back to their seats and left to place their bets. He usually read all of the statistics aloud. Odd he hadn’t this time.
"Esmerelda, a pleasure to see you."
Calliope turned in her seat and smiled at Marcus Stewart, who always managed to appear somewhat of a fallen angel with his dark hair and golden eyes. "Good afternoon, Lord Roth. I haven’t seen you since the Campton party last week. Are you enjoying the afternoon at the Heath?"
Marcus unrepentantly sank into Stephen’s chair. "I am. And how have you fared? Are you winning or will Chalmers be required to pawn his new townhouse?"
Calliope grinned. "I am up twenty pounds."
"Good to hear. Where is the boy, anyway?"
The "boy" was only a few years younger than Marcus.
"He is placing our bets."
"Ah, yes, the feature race of the afternoon. Should be a good one. Which horse did you choose?"
"Number five."
Marcus cocked a brow. “Thor? Speaking of which, I haven’t seen that boy either. Where is he?"
Calliope didn’t hide her confusion as Marcus scrutinized the other spectators. "Would have thought he’d be here to watch Thor." Marcus snorted. "The names he gives his animals. If I didn’t know better I’d say he had vanity problems."
"Who?"
"Roth, get out of my chair."
Stephen nudged Marcus with his foot. Marcus winked at her, ignoring her question. "Chalmers never did like competition from the older folk."
Stephen rolled his eyes. "Yes, Grandfather. Now out of my chair."
Marcus took his time unfolding his long legs and standing up. "Ah, there’s the other youngling. Think I’ll go put a bee in his bonnet, too. "
Calliope followed his gaze. Angelford and Stella were strolling through the crowd. Stella was beautiful in a pale yellow day dress. Calliope would have bet all her winnings it was the garment Angelford had ordered from Madame Giselle.
Marcus moved toward them, and Stephen sat down.
"All set. I put all our winnings on number five. "
"All our winnings on one horse? All on Thor?"
Stephen looked surprised. "I thought you didn’t know the horse."
.
"I didn’t, but Marcus volunteered the name. Said something about the owner and his vanity."
Stephen laughed and hit his knee with one hand. "I wouldn’t put it past Roth to say it to his face either."
"Who?"
"The race is beginning! "
Calliope focused on the gate. The gun sounded, the gate opened and eight magnificent beasts surged forth. The riders leaned forward, their bodies moving in unison with the animals. The pack was tight down the stretch, but as they rounded the corner, three horses pulled away. Thor was third. The animals tore around the track, bodies lunging, chests heaving. The crowd mimicked them and an excited man bumped into her, his breath coming out in puffs. "Hang in there, Champion."
Her blood pounded. Thor was moving into second. Come on, Thor. Half a track remained. The rider leaned into the movement and Thor burst around the last turn, hammering toward the finish.
"Stay up there, Champion," the man was muttering.
Thor and Champion were neck and neck. Stephen was smiling. The people in the front row were jumping. Thor broke away and soared through the finish. Calliope felt like jumping too.
A man swore. A lady fainted. The crowd cheered.
"We won! We won! " .
Calliope hugged Stephen. He looked smug. "Knew we would. Always bet on James’s horse in an event race. You stay here, I’ll go pick up the winnings."
He scurried off. Calliope sighed. Was it hypocritical of her to have cheered for Angelford’s horse?
Calliope followed Stephen with her eyes and saw him join Roth and Angelford. Stella was nowhere to be seen.
People were vacating the stands and Calliope resumed her inspection of the crowd. Even learning Thor was Angelford’s horse hadn’t dimmed her elation. This setting would make a nice backdrop for a number of drawings. She wished she had her sketchpad. She noticed a scurvy-looking man staring at her, but as soon as she made eye contact he moved to the side and melted into the crowd. Strange.
"Here are your winnings." Stephen handed her thirty pounds.
"Thirty pounds? I thought you wagered it all."
"I did. But the odds aren’t the best when betting on one of James’s horses."
Calliope pocketed the money with a small measure of triumph. She had begun with two pounds, her limit on the day’s gambling. As soon as she had doubled her money she had pocketed the original two pounds and gambled her winnings. It had been hard enough to wager the original two.
"I invited some of the others to dine."
"I hope you invited Roth. I don’t believe he brought anyone with him."
Stephen nodded. "Roth has been spending most of his time alone, which is unusual. The man used to be quite social."
Calliope took Stephen’s arm and they made their way out of the stands. "I also invited James and Stella. The Pettigrews were standing close, so I was forced to extend an invitation to them as well. They accepted."
The earl had established a marked interest in Esmerelda. She had learned the Pettigrews enjoyed varied entertainments, often with other couples. They were yet another sterling example of the ton, the moral center of all Christendom. Pettigrew frequently hinted for her to attend one of their parties. Someday, when she ran out of cartoon ideas, she would accept.
Stephen would probably have a conniption. He was becoming as protective as Robert. He only left her alone in the company of Roth and Angelford.
Stephen knew of her caricatures of Angelford. Yet, he seemed pleased when she and Angelford were together. When confronted, Stephen had merely grinned and said he liked to "watch the sparks fly." Stephen could be irritating sometimes. She could never rely on him not to leave her stranded with the beast.
Stephen stranded her at dinner.
They had been the last ones to enter the dining room and she had been forced to take the last available seat. The one opposite Angelford.
The mood at the rest of the table was light. Everyone had done well at the races. The Pettigrew threesome c
hattered. Roth appeared entertained by their conversation. Stella and Stephen were embroiled in a lively discussion.
Only she and the man across from her were silent. Angelford sipped his scotch and observed the rest of the table. And her.
He leaned back in his chair, and she felt his boot touch the top of her slipper. He had stretched his legs out, forcing hers to remain tucked under the chair. She leaned back and lashed out, kicking him in the shin. His eyes glittered.
