Maid to Match (18 page)

“Which lane should we sign up for?” Miss DePriest asked.

“Heavens, does it matter? They’re identical.”

Miss DePriest ran a hand up the back of her hair twist. “Perhaps, but I can tell them apart.”

Her friend turned rounded eyes onto her. “Never say so. How?”

She gave a dainty shrug. “I just can, and it’s
that
one, the one on the right, that I shall want arranging my pins.”

With a wicked laugh, her friend swatted Miss DePriest with a fan, then glanced at her maid. “Hilda, put our names on the slate.”

Tillie locked her jaw. Miss DePriest was ogling Mack.
Her
Mack.

It took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from jerking Hilda back. But there was nothing she could do. Nothing she could say.

So she stood where she was, rigid and angry and at a complete loss as to how to handle the unwelcome feelings.

Tillie toed the floor, setting her chair into a gentle rock. Positioning another diamond onto the bodice of Miss DePriest’s evening gown, she secured it in place with needle and thread.

The servants’ hall, where female staff gathered during their breaks, was deserted. With a large house party in residence, no one had time to read the popular titles lining the bookcase or to have a cup of tea or to knit or mend their clothes.

Especially not today. The guests would be taking their leave tomorrow and as a finale Mr. Vanderbilt was holding a formal ball. It would be the first ever held with the new Mrs. Vanderbilt and would be attended not only by their house guests, but by Asheville’s most wealthy and influential.

The orchestra from Asheville’s Opera House had shown up en masse at the servants’ entrance. The kitchens had prepared dainty after dainty since the predawn hours. The butler and head chef nearly came to blows over where to cool the endless bottles of wine and champagne. And the gardener brought in mounds of out-of-season flowers from his hothouses and conservatory.

Ordinarily, Tillie would have helped arrange the bouquets of roses, orchids, and lilies of the valley. Instead she sewed sprays of diamonds, simulating foliage, onto Miss DePriest’s bodice. And when the ball was over, she’d return to this very spot in the wee hours of the morning to rip them all out before returning them to her mistress’s jewelry case.

She shook her head, awed by the expensive gown and priceless gems. Surely no royal princess in all the world was more handsomely gowned than these American women of wealth.

Knotting off the last diamond, she rose on weary legs. She didn’t look forward to Miss DePriest’s toilet. It seemed like all she did, day after day, hour after hour, was dress, dress, dress. For breakfast, for riding, for boating, for lunch, for tea, for croquet, for . . . everything.

And after every toilet, Tillie had to clean and polish every surface. Remove all signs of cosmetics and powder. Arrange every drawer. Return every article to its proper place. Freshen the gowns. Repair any rips. Prepare the next change of clothes. And start all over again.

She gathered her sewing items, then turned as Lucy Lewers sailed into the hall with a tea tray. The sweet smell of tea filled the room, making Tillie’s mouth water.

“Oh, Tillie, I’m so glad to find someone here. I was worried no one would be able to share a bit of tea with me. You aren’t leaving, are you?”

She nodded. “I’m afraid so. I need to lay out Miss DePriest’s articles for tonight’s ball.”

Lucy poured the rich amber liquid into a cup. “Isn’t being a lady’s maid absolutely divine? My mistress is the sweetest, loveliest lady. Do you know what she did this morning?”

Tillie offered no response. It took all the energy she had to simply stay standing.

“She told me to take the afternoon off. She knew we’d be up late with the ball and she didn’t want me to tire. So I’ve just awoken from a nice long nap.” Lucy took a sip, her eyes sparkling over the cup. “What about you? Did you have the afternoon off?”

Tillie hadn’t had a single moment off since Miss DePriest’s arrival. She’d worked twenty days and had been called upon at all hours of the night. Last evening she’d just crawled into bed when Miss DePriest rang for her. The summons had been so Tillie could hand her a book, which was not four feet away.

“No,” she said, “I’m afraid I didn’t have the afternoon off.”

Lucy gave her a pretty pout. “Poor Tillie. You look awful. Rings under your eyes. Droopy shoulders. Sullen expression. Perhaps you don’t have what’s necessary to be a lady’s maid.”

Perhaps I don’t
. Still, she straightened, shook the fatigue from her frame, and headed to the Paris Gown-Room. “Enjoy your tea, Lucy.”

CHAPTER
Sixteen

Tillie gathered folds of delicate lace at the small of Miss DePriest’s back while trying to secure it in place with a wide diamond pin.

Miss DePriest clutched the back of a chair to hold herself steady. “Miss Houghton and I were thinking to visit Bass Pond and look at the stars. I’d like the twin footmen to escort us.”

Tillie hesitated, then continued to work the pin in. “Tonight? In your ball gown?”

“It’s supposed to be a dark sky and with this being our last chance to see them and all, well . . .”

Last chance to see what? The stars or the twins?

The pin came through, but at a crooked angle. She pulled it back and started again. “I’m afraid the footmen will be busy waiting in attendance at the ball. But, if you’d like, I can escort you.”

She let out a short huff of air. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t protect us from night creatures, nor drive the carriage. No, we will require the twins. One to drive, the other for protection.”

Tempting as it was to jab her, Tillie refrained and secured the clasp. “I’m afraid that will be impossible. We simply don’t have any footmen to spare.”

Miss DePriest whipped around, her satin skirts swirling about her feet. “I will not be disappointed in this. I want to see the stars and I want to be escorted by the twin footmen. You will take care of it for me, Tillie, or there will be the devil to pay.”

“I will put forth your request to the butler, miss. Perhaps he can find someone to spare, but I can’t guarantee who it will be.”

Miss DePriest yanked on her gloves. “You tell your butler I will have no one else. They took Miss Cuff and Miss Rappolee last evening and they . . . well, it’s no business of yours what they did. You just tell the butler I
insist
it be the twins.”

Tillie stared at the girl, unwilling to believe the implication. She’d heard plenty of rumors about Earl, but she didn’t want to believe it of Mack.

She forced herself to curtsy. “Yes, miss. I’ll give him your message.”

A feline smile pulled at Miss DePriest’s lips. Tillie tried to see her as a man might. Clear skin, huge blue eyes, mountains of blond hair, and an hourglass form sheathed in a low-cut bodice shimmering with diamonds.

No question, she was breathtakingly beautiful . . . on the outside. And with Earl, that’s all that mattered. But not with Mack. Surely not with Mack.

At the door, Miss DePriest presented her back and held up her arms. Tillie draped a shawl over her shoulders.

Miss DePriest turned her head and gave Tillie a knowing look. “I might be out quite late. If I need help undressing, I’ll ring for you.” She opened the door, then paused. “And no need to come too early in the morning. You may wait for my summons.”

The door clicked shut behind her. Horror and dismay stacked up at the back of Tillie’s throat. There was only one reason Miss DePriest wouldn’t need help undressing.

Taking a deep breath, Tillie began to clean the room and prepare it for the night. She would give Mr. Sterling the message. And as gracious as the Vanderbilts were, there was no doubt in her mind Mr. Sterling would do everything he could to accommodate any and every request.

Miss DePriest hadn’t rung for her at bedtime, nor once during the night, nor yet this morning. Tillie told herself to be thankful for the much-needed sleep. Instead, she was furious. With Mack. And Earl. And Miss Highfalutin’ DePriest.

The temptation to cram the gowns into the trunk was great. But no matter how angry Tillie was, she couldn’t bring herself to abuse the beautiful articles. Still, if she pretended she was stuffing Miss DePriest as she scrunched up tissue and poked it inside the shirtwaists, so be it.

Mack strode into the room, an empty trunk on his back. “Tillie. I didn’t expect to see you up here already.”

Snatching up a new piece of tissue, she crinkled it into a tight ball. “Really? Where did you expect me to be?”

“With Miss DePriest, I guess. She seems to monopolize every moment of your time these days.”

“Oh, you’re right about that.” She crammed the tissue into the gut of the shirtwaist. “She monopolizes my days. And my nights, too. All except last night, that is.” Straightening, she propped a fist onto her waist. “Why do you suppose that is, Mack?”

A wary look entered his eyes. “She wanted you to get some sleep?”

“Ha!” She didn’t even try to suppress her irritation.

He studied her. “Are you mad at me about something?”

“Mad? Why should I be mad?” She pressed the shirtwaist into the trunk. “What does it matter to me how you or Miss DePriest or anybody else spends their nights, or with whom. It’s certainly none of
my
affair.”

His eyes narrowed. “Just what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She slammed the lid of the trunk closed with a whack. “Nothing at all.”

“Oh, it was something, all right. I just can’t figure out what.”

“So how were the stars last night? Or did you even bother to look?”

Removing his hat, he scratched his head. “Stars? What the devil are you talking about?”

She started advancing. “Don’t you play innocent with me, Mack Danver. You and I both know that you and Earl have been escorting lady after lady, night after night, out to the privacy of Bass Pond to ‘gaze at the stars.’ ”

A spark of amusement flashed in his eyes, before he quickly suppressed it. “Oh,
those
stars.”

“Yes,
those
stars. You ought to be ashamed. What were you thinking?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Well, you know the Vanderbilts. They always aim to please. I was only doing my job.”

“Your job?” She jabbed his chest with a finger, punctuating her words. “Your
job
? Well, let me tell you, your job does not entail being lady’s maid to my mistress or anyone else’s for that matter.”

The arrogant lout had the audacity to grin full out. “You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” She looked him up and down. “Of what?”

He grabbed her by the arms and hauled her flush against him. “Of the ladies I’ve been attending and whatever it is you think I did with them at the pond.”

She struggled. “Let me go. You know perfectly well what you did and so do I.”

“Oh, I know what I did. And clearly you think you know what I did. But you’re mistaken if you think I was anything less than honorable. I haven’t so much as touched Miss DePriest or any other woman in this house other than you.”

She stilled.

“I never lie.”

The words came back to her, repeating themselves in her mind like the chorus of a song. She studied his eyes, trying to peer into their depths. Trying to break through any barriers and confirm the truth.

“Then why didn’t Miss DePriest call for me last night or this morning?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

All she saw was sincerity. And genuineness. And huge, beautiful brown eyes which she liked far too much.

“Let me go.” Her words were soft. “Someone will see.”

He gentled his hold, rubbing the spots he’d squeezed. “Why do you fight it, Tillie?”

She stepped from his embrace. “You know why.”

“You can’t tell me after these three weeks that you still want to be a lady’s maid?”

“Mrs. Vanderbilt is nothing like Miss DePriest.”

“Maybe not, but the job still requires you to be at the beck and call of someone else at all hours of the day and night. How can you want that?”

Sighing, she returned to the trunk she’d been packing and lifted its lid. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Miss DePriest has done nothing but complain about me. And she’s voiced her complaints to Mrs. Vanderbilt. So it’s a moot point.”