When She Said I Do (29 page)

He went still. “What?”

“I have so many. It only seems fair that I should use some of them, since I am asking you to do something for me…”

He could earn his pearls back if he dressed for the ball, if he attended, if he paraded himself before the village, undoubtedly peacocked out in some mad creation of the evil genius Button.

Every pearl earned back meant one more night with Callie.

Priceless.

There was more. This ball would be filled with Amberdell people. People who, if brought round to the right frame of mind, could be made to forgive the madness with the ginger, could help him look out for Callie, could keep sharp suspicious country eyes out for strange giants, could be powerful and numerous allies against his enemies …

The last thing, the thing he pushed to the back of his mind, the dangerously seductive thing, was that he wanted so very much to make his sweet, mad Callie happy.

He let out a long breath. “A pearl for dressing in costume.”

“Of course.”

“A pearl for attending your ball.”

“Agreed.”

“I shall not dance.”

“Two pearls for dancing.”

“I thought you said no negotiation.”

“I,” she said airily, “am more flexible than some.”

He hid a smile. “A pearl for each waltz.” He could bear those minutes of display if it brought more nights in her warm and willing arms.

“Well, one might say that a gentleman should earn the lady’s favors—”

“Those are my terms, Calliope.”

She gusted a sigh. “Oh, very well. I accept your terms.”

He turned to face her at last. “And I shall wish a kiss to seal our bargain.”

She scrambled off the bed, clutching a wad of pearl-toting skirt, and ran into his open arms. The kiss she gave him dizzied his mind and gave rise to difficulties—especially since a hundred people were about to descend upon the manor.

At last she pushed him away and pressed a palm to her face. “My goodness … I think I’ve forgotten my own name!” She shook off the haze of lust and smiled at him brightly. “We should start getting ready.”

She ran to the bedchamber door. “I’ve attached a valet for you for the evening!”

Ren, who was still quite naked and now somewhat aroused, gazed about in panic. “What?
Now?
”

Chapter 24

There were times in a man’s life when he must make a choice. Ren’s choice in that moment was between hiding in his empty wardrobe or greeting a stranger in his altogether.

The bloody wardrobe was too bloody small.

Ren turned the scarred side of his face away as Callie opened his door. Into his bedchamber walked a dapper little man carrying a very large box. He smiled happily at Ren. “Oh, wonderful!”

Callie stood next to Mr. Button and regarded Ren with satisfaction. “I told you he was delicious underneath.”

“An understatement.” Mr. Button patted her on the arm. “Scoot now, dear. Mr. Porter and I have much to do.”

Callie waved gaily at Ren and then deserted him. Ren kept his gaze averted while Button deposited his burden on the trunk at the end of the bed.

“I—”

“Turn, please. I must get a good look at you.”

Ren gave up. The man didn’t seem likely to run screaming, at least. He turned, still looking away.

“Hmm. You are thinner than your clothing suggested. I shall have to take a quick tuck in the surcoat, I think.” Button walked a circle around him, measuring with his eyes. Ren felt rather like an insect under glass, but somehow it wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassing. Mr. Button obviously knew his business as a tailor as well as a dressmaker.

Then Button rounded him and gazed unblinking into Ren’s face. Ren fought the habitual urge to flinch away and gazed back. “I know I am hideous.”

Button nodded thoughtfully. “The scars are frightful, yes. However, you are not your scars.”

Ren blinked at that matter-of-fact assessment. A few weeks ago he might have argued it, but somehow, since Callie had danced into his life he felt like …

Like more.

*   *   *

Callie ran lightly down the stairs, reveling in her pain-free ankle. Worthingtons always did heal quickly.

The front hall bustled with men bringing flowers and garlands and chairs and whatnots for the ballroom. Mr. Button had rallied staff all the way from London, for Callie heard more than a few Cockney accents. As much as possible had come from local folk, but Button had thought it best to put on a big show for the people of Amberdell. “They will take pride from a fine house and a fine ball. If you bring down the tone a whit, they will be insulted.”

Callie left it up to Mr. Button’s judgment, but she hoped Ren was as rich as people seemed to think. Oh, but it was all so much fun!

The ballroom was chaos, and looked as though someone had fought another war of the roses within, but a burly gentleman named Rigg assured her that “It’ll be a right spring bower, milady, just you wait’n see.” He looked rather more like a brigand than a florist, but Callie knew better than to judge by appearances. Many of the men Mr. Button had hired looked like pirates and thieves, while others looked as refined as lords.

On her way to the kitchens to check on the finishing touches for the “nibblements,” as Mr. Button called them, Callie was waylaid by a tall, dark-haired girl in housemaid’s attire.

“Excuse me, milady, but will you be needin’ many more rooms made up? Only we’ve just found the linen closet and there’ve been mice nesting. Gone a bit nasty, I fear.”

“You should have seen the windows,” Callie murmured. The girl blinked at her. Callie frowned off into space. “Well, the local people will likely go back to their homes … but Mr. Button asked to invite a few of his friends, as well.”

“Yes, milady. Himself told me he’d need four rooms for them.”

Callie smiled. “Oh, that’s nice. I’m so looking forward to meeting Mr. Buttons’s friends. He’s such a wonderful man.”

The maid regarded her for a moment. “That he is, milady. I’m right fond of him myself.”

“I suppose we ought to get as many rooms ready as we can, just in case … have you checked for another linen closet in the west wing? I know it’s all closed up, but surely they didn’t tote pillowcases all the way across the house!”

The maid nodded. “Oh, yes, I shall check.” She curtsied and began to dash off.

“Oh—” Callie paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Rose, milady.”

Callie smiled. “That’s charming. I adore floral names. I am Calliope. I and all my siblings were saddled with torturous Greek myths. It’s such a burden being named after gods and goddesses. People tend to expect miracles.”

The maid snorted a laugh, then looked down. “Sorry, milady. I just didn’t expect you to be so funny.”

Callie rolled her eyes. “Goodness, if you think I’m odd, just be glad my family shan’t be attending.”

Rose curtsied again, but this time her eyes were twinkling. “Yes, milady. I’ll fetch all the linens I can find from the west wing.”

Callie continued on to the kitchens but it seemed she’d just missed the cook. Again. Really, the man had the oddest habit of fleeing the kitchens just when she wished to speak with him. However, she was reassured by the bustle and delicious smells and the impressive array of herbs the man had brought with him. And knives … such big, sharp knives.

“When the cook gets back, please send someone to find me. I just want to have a word.”

The men helping in the kitchen shot each other glances, but they nodded agreeably enough before bustling on. Callie felt as if she were in the way, so she left after sneaking a taste from one of the simmering pots. Oh, heaven.

Perhaps she could leave off worrying about the food, as well.

Really, Mr. Button was a wonder. Callie found herself with nothing to do but to get ready.

When she returned to her bedchamber, she found herself the recipient of a large stack of mauve and white striped boxes. With childish glee she unpacked her own personal Christmas morning, pulling out gowns and gloves and bonnets and shawls and underthings … oh, my, the underthings! She tucked most of them away with a naughty little smile on her face. Goodness, Mr. Button was a thoughtful fellow!

Then she found her gown. “Oh.”

She pressed her fingers to her lips, then slowly reached out to lift the incredible creation from the box.

Mr. Button did, indeed, have skill unknown to mortal woman. The gown was a pact with the devil by way of heaven.

Callie held up the pale green mist of silk and pearls and shimmering white satin ribbons. In the box beneath the gown there remained a beaded mask and white satin gloves and pearl-encrusted combs and wispy, lace-edged underthings … but all Callie could see was the gown.

Mr. Button had decided she was to be Persephone, Goddess of Spring. It was indeed a gown fit for a goddess.

Someone had caused a bath to be sent up for her. Beside the steaming copper tub was a bowl of soft soap. Callie sniffed it. Rosemary soap. She’d only mentioned it yesterday. How had Mr. Button found it so quickly?

Soon she was going to stop asking that question. Button was a very magical fellow!

Callie stripped and climbed into the steaming tub but she couldn’t bear to lie about. She scrubbed down briskly and washed her hair, then sat combing it by the lovely fire in her hearth. Wistfully she wondered if she’d be allowed to keep a few of Mr. Button’s excellent servant friends, although she’d perhaps do better to hire from the village, for good feeling.

Mr. Button had tried to provide her with a lady’s maid but she’d informed him that Worthington girls could do their own hair, thank you! She did miss Elektra’s help, although if Ellie were here she’d be too busy pining over Callie’s gown to help much with her hair.

And Attie would be disemboweling some carcass in the kitchen with the cook, trying out his array of fantastic knives.

Callie pinched at her cheeks and dusted a bit of rice powder over her nose. Other women might find face paint appealing, but Worthingtons had good skin and no need to hide it. She smoothed her hair with a bit of sweet almond oil, just enough to tame the tendency to frizz. Then she pulled it back into a thick twist, propped by the shimmering combs. With a few stray tendrils around her face, for Ren’s benefit, for he dearly loved to toy with her hair. She felt she looked quite nice.

Then she noticed the case on the vanity.

It was the jewel case from the first night she was in the house.

It could only be Ren’s doing. Callie tentatively lifted the lid. Within she saw a folded scrap of paper.

“B said you would be in green.”

The antique emerald necklace lay shimmering on top of the peacock-toned shawl she’d found in the library.

Oh, it was a lovely thing, as vivid and shamelessly attention-grabbing as she’d remembered. She stroked it with one finger.

He’d bought it for another woman.

Then again, that woman had been fool enough to let him get away. She didn’t deserve the man or the shawl … but Callie did!

Callie decided to accept the gift as a thoughtful husbandly thing and forget about the other woman. She smiled and swept the shawl over her bare shoulders. “Your loss, idiot woman.” She smirked into the mirror.

Fortunately the distinctive ring was nowhere in sight. When that time came Callie wanted her own bloody ring, thank you very much.

The necklace, now … this was clearly a family heirloom of some antiquity. An “important piece,” as Ellie would call it. Callie smiled. A necklace fit for the lady of Amberdell Manor.

She fastened it about her neck and sauntered naked to where the gown lay in serene state across the bed.

Callie dressed carefully. First the sheer stockings, gartered above the knee with green ribbons. Then the barely there chemise, a mere wisp of batiste so fine Callie would have little trouble reading through it. She looked into the box for pantalets, but Mr. Button seemed to have forgotten those and Callie had none left after the sword fight.

Ah, the sword fight …

The clock in the hall boomed distantly and Callie started. Oh, heavens, she couldn’t be late to her own ball!

Donning the gown was a simple affair. All the work was in the details and the fit. Which, astonishingly, was perfection. Callie frowned at the mirror. Mr. Button might have made one thing for one woman in those few days he’d had to prepare, but she knew every woman in the village had ordered a new gown and probably masks and gloves and goodness knows what else …

It simply wasn’t possible for Button and Cabot to fill all those orders. Not humanly possible, at any rate.

But Callie had no time to contemplate the otherworldly powers of the dressmaker. The gown fastened up the back with minuscule buttons, but Callie had always dressed herself and found it no great difficulty.

When she turned back to the mirror, she caught her breath. First of all, she looked stunning, regal, and mysterious. Secondly, there was a great deal of Worthington bosom on display.

She inhaled experimentally. The gown was well fitted, there was no doubt about it. Her bosom only seemed as though it were about to slip its moorings. In fact, it was battened down quite adequately.

When she tugged the satin gloves high upon her arms and donned the little silk slippers that had come in the box—when had Mr. Button measured her feet?—Callie blinked at her reflection. She had often looked fairly pretty, but she had never before been beautiful, not even in the rose-pink dress from the night before. To be truthful, she suspected that “goddess” suited her better than did “harlot.”

Although harlot was bound to be more fun.

With her own toilette done, she was finally free to think about Ren’s costume.

Mr. Button had been most secretive. If she was to be the goddess Persephone, then would Mr. Porter be forced to go as Hades? That seemed rather the opposite effect than the “let’s meet the village” intent of the evening. Callie bit her lip worriedly. Mr. Button did seem to be a theatrical sort of fellow, didn’t he?

*   *   *

Ren frowned at Button. “I think this is a bit much. I’d rather not make such a sideshow of myself.”