“My lady,” she said with a smile and dipped a curtsy. “My name is Bess Harper. His lordship sent me to help you with your wardrobe, if it pleases you?”
Annis recalled Emrys muttering something about getting her a maid and she had meant to ask Sarah how to go about it but forgot in all the kerfuffle. It seemed he had done it for her. Generally, she enjoyed the things he did for her, but choosing a personal lady’s maid was rather more delicate than choosing a horse. Not entirely sure she liked this high-handedness, she still smiled at the young woman and said, “Thank you, Bess. There are a few things to put away.”
The footmen deposited the first lot of boxes and packages and went back down for the rest. It took them four trips.
By the time they had gone, Bess was already helping her unwrap and unbox everything and makingohandahnoises over her purchases.
“Oh, my lady, these are lovely!” she said, eyeing a pair of dancing slippers in pink silk with rosettes.
Annis stared at everything laid out before her and nodded. “There is a ball gown coming to match them.”
With Bess’s help, she got everything packed away and realized it was time to dress for dinner. She had brought one gown home with her. In sea-green silk with a gauze overskirt, it had fitted her perfectly without the need for alteration. It was secretly her favorite of all the gowns she had tried on, and she was quietly excited to wear it for Emrys.
Bess proved highly competent with dressing her hair, a luxury Annis had hitherto not had. And it was in need of a cut. Sarah had promised to send round a hairstylist tomorrow to give her a fashionable crop.
When she mentioned her plans for her hair to Emrys over dinner, he dropped his fork and said, “Oh, no! But I like your hair the way it is!”
“Oh! Well of course if you—”
He sighed. “No, you’re right, you need to look fashionable, and of course you should have it as it pleases you. I shall just have to get used it.” He chewed thoughtfully. “I should get mine cut, too, and try not to embarrass you with my woolly mop.” He shook his head, and his hair fell over his face.
“Oh, but I like yours!” she protested.
“We both need to be shorn like sheep,” he said. “We shall accustom ourselves and be fashionable, at least for the season. We can go wild in the off months.”
She smiled and forked up some peas. “As you like, my lord,” she said demurely.
He grinned at her. “I know I said it before, but it bears repeating—that dress really suits you. Something about that color.”
She flushed. She soaked up compliments from him like a sponge. “Thank you. Yes, I like it very much myself. It’s my favorite shade of green.”
*
The following morning,Emrys shocked his valet by asking for a haircut.
“Certainly, my lord. The usual slight trim?” asked Felton, getting out his scissors and comb.
“No, do what you want with it,” said Emrys, seating himself before the mirror.
Felton stood behind him and said, “I beg your pardon, my lord. What do you mean?”
“Cut it, Felton. No doubt you know how to achieve something... fashionable?” He winced internally but faced the mirror manfully, reminding himself that if it looked awful, the hair would grow back.
Felton opened his mouth and shut it. “As your lordship pleases.” He draped a towel round Emrys’s shoulders and set to work.
Twenty minutes later he held up a mirror to show Emrys the cut from the back. All the length had been cut, and his thick, slightly wavy brown hair clung to the shape of his skull. At the front, a bit more length had been retained.
“Your lordship’s natural curls give body to the hair and support the romantic look. I have refrained from adopting the extremity of the Brutus, but I think this style frames your face well. If you choose to adopt the fashion of sideburns, my lord...?” He stopped delicately, clearly not wishing to overstep.
Emrys regarded his reflection with slight surprise. He would never be handsome, but the cut was an improvement, even he had to admit. “I’ll consider it, Felton. Good job,” he added.
Felton bowed, a slight smile curling his lips.
“I think I’ll get some new boots, too,” said Emrys.
“And some pantaloons, my lord?” asked Felton hopefully. “A pale biscuit is tasteful, while being in the first stare of elegance.”
Emrys’s lips twitch, “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Felton. You’ll never turn me into a Brummel, you know.”
