think he’d lost his
mind, hanging about in the foyer staring up at the landscapes and portraits
that hung there to pass the time.
“Gloria,” he said, as he kissed her cheek. “You’re looking
lovely this evening.”
“Thank you,” she replied, as Albert shook her husband’s
hand.
“Good to see you, Albert,” Stephen said. “Perhaps we can
close this deal over dinner. What do you think?”
“Perhaps,” he countered, looking up over Stephen’s shoulder
as Higgins went to the door. “Excuse me.”
Albert walked toward the door as Higgins opened it, and
there she stood, looking tentative and incredibly beautiful. “Miss Porterman.
Alice. Welcome. Please come in.”
“Thank you,” she said, after taking a breath and stepping
into his foyer and allowing Higgins to take her cloak.
She is mine , he
thought, with all the boldness of man speaking in his thoughts only. Her hair
framed her face in soft curls, drawing his eyes to her lips, full and slightly
parted. She was wearing a blue gown, cut low enough that he could see cleavage
and fitted to her figure in such a way as to make him ache to touch her. He could
smell lilacs and watched as her bosom rose and fell with each breath.
He looked in her eyes, and the foyer, his other guests, his
staff, everything faded out of his vision. “You are so beautiful,” he said.
Alice smiled shyly, blushed, and glanced away.
“Oh, yes. These are my friends Mr. and Mrs. Gaines. Miss
Porterman,” he said, turning to them.
“Gloria and Stephen, Miss Porterman, as you are a friend of
Albert’s,” Stephen said.
Gloria eyed Albert with raised brows and turned to Alice
with a smile and hooked her arm through hers. “We shall go restore our hair and
pat our cheeks, won’t we, Alice? We will meet you gentlemen in the large
drawing room?”
Albert nodded, his eyes never leaving Alice’s face. “The
first guest room is available for the ladies. Mrs. Erskine can show you up.”
Gloria shook her head and turned them both in a whirl of
crinkling fabrics. “No need to bother her. I know the way.”
* * *
Mrs. Gaines chattered about
inconsequential things, asking questions that she could answer herself, and
giving time for Alice, purposefully, Alice thought, to stop shaking. Alice
stood near a massive carved wood cupboard once they were in the bedroom while
Mrs. Gaines pinched her cheeks, applied lip rouge to already rosy lips, and
looked at Alice in the reflection of the dressing table mirror.
“So, Alice, how did you meet Albert?” Mrs. Gaines asked.
“He is our landlord, Mrs. Gaines,” Alice replied.
“I am not Mrs. Gaines. I am Gloria,” she said with a smile,
and continued to pull strands of hair around her face, curling them around her
finger as she went.
Alice said nothing. She stared instead at the fine
furniture, all dark wood and shining with layers of polish. The bed was made up
with a brightly printed flowered coverlet over white sheets with stacks of
pillows standing just so against a carved headboard. Alice looked up to see
Mrs. Gaines standing directly in front of her.
“Were you in service, Alice?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was a housemaid and then a personal maid to a
senator’s wife.”
“But you are not working tonight, are you?”
Alice shook her head. “Well . . . no. I am a guest of Mr.
Donahue’s.”
“And I’m terrified for you that you will get up and try and
serve the soup,” Mrs. Gaines said, and then covered her mouth with her hand to
keep from laughing.
Alice’s face colored. But the picture in her head that Mrs.
Gaines conjured up with her description was silly enough to make her giggle,
and then Mrs. Gaines laughed even more.
The woman took Alice’s hands in hers. “You must relax. You
must stop calling me Mrs. Gaines. I am Gloria. You are a guest and must behave
so. Albert’s dinners are wonderful affairs, with much laughter and delicious
food, and good company. Won’t you enjoy yourself?”
“This
mind, hanging about in the foyer staring up at the landscapes and portraits
that hung there to pass the time.
“Gloria,” he said, as he kissed her cheek. “You’re looking
lovely this evening.”
“Thank you,” she replied, as Albert shook her husband’s
hand.
“Good to see you, Albert,” Stephen said. “Perhaps we can
close this deal over dinner. What do you think?”
“Perhaps,” he countered, looking up over Stephen’s shoulder
as Higgins went to the door. “Excuse me.”
Albert walked toward the door as Higgins opened it, and
there she stood, looking tentative and incredibly beautiful. “Miss Porterman.
Alice. Welcome. Please come in.”
“Thank you,” she said, after taking a breath and stepping
into his foyer and allowing Higgins to take her cloak.
She is mine , he
thought, with all the boldness of man speaking in his thoughts only. Her hair
framed her face in soft curls, drawing his eyes to her lips, full and slightly
parted. She was wearing a blue gown, cut low enough that he could see cleavage
and fitted to her figure in such a way as to make him ache to touch her. He could
smell lilacs and watched as her bosom rose and fell with each breath.
He looked in her eyes, and the foyer, his other guests, his
staff, everything faded out of his vision. “You are so beautiful,” he said.
Alice smiled shyly, blushed, and glanced away.
“Oh, yes. These are my friends Mr. and Mrs. Gaines. Miss
Porterman,” he said, turning to them.
“Gloria and Stephen, Miss Porterman, as you are a friend of
Albert’s,” Stephen said.
Gloria eyed Albert with raised brows and turned to Alice
with a smile and hooked her arm through hers. “We shall go restore our hair and
pat our cheeks, won’t we, Alice? We will meet you gentlemen in the large
drawing room?”
Albert nodded, his eyes never leaving Alice’s face. “The
first guest room is available for the ladies. Mrs. Erskine can show you up.”
Gloria shook her head and turned them both in a whirl of
crinkling fabrics. “No need to bother her. I know the way.”
* * *
Mrs. Gaines chattered about
inconsequential things, asking questions that she could answer herself, and
giving time for Alice, purposefully, Alice thought, to stop shaking. Alice
stood near a massive carved wood cupboard once they were in the bedroom while
Mrs. Gaines pinched her cheeks, applied lip rouge to already rosy lips, and
looked at Alice in the reflection of the dressing table mirror.
“So, Alice, how did you meet Albert?” Mrs. Gaines asked.
“He is our landlord, Mrs. Gaines,” Alice replied.
“I am not Mrs. Gaines. I am Gloria,” she said with a smile,
and continued to pull strands of hair around her face, curling them around her
finger as she went.
Alice said nothing. She stared instead at the fine
furniture, all dark wood and shining with layers of polish. The bed was made up
with a brightly printed flowered coverlet over white sheets with stacks of
pillows standing just so against a carved headboard. Alice looked up to see
Mrs. Gaines standing directly in front of her.
“Were you in service, Alice?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was a housemaid and then a personal maid to a
senator’s wife.”
“But you are not working tonight, are you?”
Alice shook her head. “Well . . . no. I am a guest of Mr.
Donahue’s.”
“And I’m terrified for you that you will get up and try and
serve the soup,” Mrs. Gaines said, and then covered her mouth with her hand to
keep from laughing.
Alice’s face colored. But the picture in her head that Mrs.
Gaines conjured up with her description was silly enough to make her giggle,
and then Mrs. Gaines laughed even more.
The woman took Alice’s hands in hers. “You must relax. You
must stop calling me Mrs. Gaines. I am Gloria. You are a guest and must behave
so. Albert’s dinners are wonderful affairs, with much laughter and delicious
food, and good company. Won’t you enjoy yourself?”
“This
Similar Books
