“Did you?” he said. “Is that not unusual for you?”
“You sounded quite like Boris then,” she said. “He always likes to mock me.”
“What did you do, Abby?” he asked.
“I hired myself a personal maid,” she said. “I did not really need one because you provided me with one, though I do not think that Alice has any real ambitions to be a lady’s maid and I am sure Mrs. Williams will be quite willing for her to resume her former duties.”
“Abby?” he prompted.
“I don’t believe Madame Savard is a pleasant person to work for,” she said, “and if you will not mind very much, Miles, I will not patronize her anymore. She does make lovely clothes, but I don’t believe that employers who treat their employees with less than courtesy should be allowed to prosper. Do you?”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “What happened?”
“There is a seamstress there who is perhaps a little slow and a little clumsy,” Abigail said. “And she is very thin and very anxious-looking, Miles. I can well imagine what would become of her if she were ever dismissed. Madame Savard had the girl in tears this morning, blaming her because the bodice of my pink muslin dress did not fit quite perfectly. Though I did not go in there to accuse anyone or be angry with anyone, just to have the adjustments made. And I do not think it kind to reduce an employee to tears in front of a customer, do you?”
“You have hired the girl?” he asked.
“You guessed?” she said. “Yes, I did, Miles. When Madame turned away to talk with another customer and we were left alone for a few moments, I asked Ellen—her name is Ellen—if she would like to come and work for me. And her eyes lit up, Miles. She is going to work out a week’s notice and then come. Are you angry with me?”
“I have the feeling,” he said, “that I had better not take you into the poorer quarters of London, Abby, unless I have you in a closed carriage with all the curtains drawn. I might find my home bulging at the seams with waifs and strays.”
“You are angry,” she said.
“On the contrary.” He smiled at her. “Are you sure this girl can do your hair and perform all the other duties of a lady’s maid?”
“I have never had a maid,” she said. “I am very used to doing for myself, Miles. If I do not like the way she does my hair, I shall wait until she has left the room, not to hurt her feelings, and do it again the way I like it. Nothing could be simpler.”
The Earl of Severn threw back his head in the middle of a busy street and roared with laughter. “Abby,” he said, “where have you been all my life? I don’t think I ever laughed until four days ago—or perhaps three. You were very demure on that first day.”
“Well,” she said stiffly, not knowing whether to be hurt or to join him in his laughter, “I am glad I amuse you, Miles, I am sure.”
She joined in his laughter.
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8
THE EARL OF SEVERN WAS FEELING amused. He seemed to have misjudged his wife on every count, and the realization might have alarmed him, given the fact that he had married her two days after meeting her and drawing all the wrong conclusions about her. But he was not alarmed. He was amused.
For one thing, he thought after he had tapped on the door of her dressing room the evening of the ball and let himself in, she was not plain. She was wearing the evening gown that had been his favorite from the start, even before it had been made. The underdress of pale green silk glimmered through the overdress of white Brussels lace. The gown was low at the bosom, revealing the tops of her firm breasts. Her long gloves and her slippers matched the underdress. Her maid had dressed her hair becomingly in a style similar to that she had worn on their wedding day. The color was high in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled.
No, she was not plain. She was not beautiful either, of course, not in the way that Frances, for example, was beautiful. She was perhaps something better. For while he found Frances beautiful yet unappealing, he could see that all of Abigail’s loveliness came from within. She was clearly enjoying the occasion even before they left the house.
And she was not timid and shrinking, as he had rather expected her to be. Or at all shy, for that matter, though he had clung to the belief that she was for a few days. She could be nervous, and became highly voluble when she was, but once into a situation, she appeared to be thoroughly at ease. He smiled at the memory of the way she had held court in Hyde Park that afternoon for a whole hour, with almost no assistance from him.