Page 160 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“She sent me to tell you that she does not want any of us until midnight. She is spending the day and evening with Lady Kathryn.”

Ackers shook her head. “I can’t make heads or tails of those two. You should have heard them going at it hammer and tongs earlier.” A sly smile slid across the older woman’s face. “And then Lord Needham popped in for no more than a minute.” Ackers cackled. “Wasn’t my lady fit to be tied after that?”

“There is more,” Stacia said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We may go to the ball—but must be back by midnight.”

Ackers’s joyous shriek made Stacia jump. “This is all his lordship’s doing! I just know it!”

“She admitted as much.”

“Miss Martin!”

Stacia turned to find Dora hurrying toward her. “I was just going to look for you, Dora. Miss Ackers and I will need gowns.” She grinned. “We are going to the ball. Could you tell me again where Mrs. Kettering’s chambers are?”

“In the south wing, Miss. But I just put a gown on your bed.”

“What?”

“Aye, Lady Needham sent it for you.”

Stacia blinked. “She…did?”

The maid nodded excitedly. “She had her own maid alter it for you using the dress you gave to me.”

Dora meant the gown from the day Stacia had found Terrence. Dora had removed all but a shadow of the stain, but it was still nothing Stacia could wear in Lady Addiscombe’s presence. She had given it to the girl, who could probably use the fabric for something.

“Don’t you want to see it?” Dora asked.

Stacia turned to Ackers, who waved her away. “You go along, Miss Martin. I need to hurry along to the south wing and see if there is anything left for me to wear!”

Dora grinned and took Stacia’s hand, all but dragging her to her chambers. The gown that waited on her bed was like something out of a dream. It was a deep, vibrant pink that immediately made her think of lilies, the sort of color Stacia had never been allowed to wear during her Season, when she’d had to wear white, a color that made her look insipid.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Miss?” Dora asked when Stacia wordlessly stroked the lustrous silk. “Lady Phoebe—er, that’s Lady Needham—is dark haired just like you and she favors deeper colors. I’m sure it will look a treat on you.”

“I wonder that she parted with such a beautiful gown.”

“The master spoils her something fierce. She has a hundred gowns or more.”

It was the most gorgeous dress Stacia had ever seen.

“I will come back in a few hours to help you dress, Miss,” Dora said.

“But what about you?” Stacia protested. “You will need to get ready, as well.”

“Several of us maids are going to get ready together, but you’ve nobody to help you.”

“Well…if you do not mind?”

“Of course not!” She stared at something over Stacia’s head.

“What is it?” Stacia asked, patting her hair, which was covered with a lace cap, as Lady Addiscombe required.

“Short hair is all the crack, Miss, and yours would have some lovely natural curls if there was not so much weight.

Stacia had often lamented the time it took to wash and dry such a mass of hair—especially when it was not an especially beautiful color. But…short?

She met Dora’s hopeful gaze. “How short?”

“Short.”