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"Millie, for heaven's sake, stop crying! I know you didn't mean to tear the gown—let's just choose another." Sammy was beginning to lose patience with her wailing maid.
"It's no use, my lady." Millie wrung her hands, staring mournfully at the rended bodice of Samantha's evening gown. "I'm just no good at being a lady's maid."
With an exasperated sigh, Sammy turned. "You're perfectly capable. It's only—"
"I hate it."
"Pardon me?" Samantha dropped her arms to her sides.
"Forgive me, Lady Samantha, but I just hate doin' this!" A fresh wave of tears. "I'm not suited to it!"
For the first time Sammy realized that Millie wasn't just inept, she was unhappy. "There, there, Millie, don't cry." Tossing the ruined dress to the bed, Sammy handed Millie a handkerchief and patted her shaking shoulders. "Every problem has a solution. Tell me, what do you do at my aunt's home in Hampshire?"
"Oh, my lady, I never cry there!" Instantly, Millie brightened. "I help in the kitchen—the cook is my aunt, you see. I also tidy up the lower level, and sometimes I even gather fresh flowers for the morning room."
"I see." Thoughtfully, Sammy tapped her chin.
"Please don't be angry, my lady. 'Tisn't you, I swear it. You've been as kind and patient as a saint—"
"You needn't explain, I understand. Tell me, Millie, would you be happy if I could arrange for you to return to Hampshire?" When the maid hesitated, Sammy pressed, "The truth now, Millie."
"Yes, ma'am. I would."
"Very well. Give me a day or two. I have to think of a way to bring this up to Aunt Gertie without upsetting her. I personally would have no objections to forfeiting a maid altogether, but I don't think my aunt would approve. So let me think of a worthy substitute for you, all right?"
"Oh, thank you! Thank you, my lady! Thank you!" Impulsively, Millie flung her arms about Sammy's neck, then backed off, red-faced.
"It's quite all right." Samantha grinned. "But until your replacement is found, do you think we might make the best of things and try to get me dressed for the opera so I don't have to greet Remington in a chemise?"
"Yes, ma'am. Of course, ma'am." Millie scurried over to the wardrobe with new determination. "Which gown would you like, my lady?"
"I thought perhaps the crimson velvet. What do you think?"
"I think it would be perfect."
"Wonderful! Then let's make an attempt to get it on without mishap."
"Yes, ma'am." Clumsily, Millie helped Sammy into the rich layers of fabric, sighing with relief when, at last, she finished buttoning up the back. "The viscount is terribly handsome, my lady."
"Hmm?" Sammy was already lost in thought, imagining what new ground she would break with Remington tonight.
"The gentleman who called on you this afternoon. Viscount Anders, wasn't it?"
"Oh, Stephen. Yes, he is handsome." Sammy gathered up her tresses. "I believe I'll wear my hair up tonight—it makes me look older, more experienced, wouldn't you say?"
"I suppose so, my lady. Will the viscount be escorting you tonight, as well?"
"Oh, no." In truth, Sammy could scarcely remember the quarter hour she'd spent in Stephen's company. He'd been delightful, respectful, and charming... and all she'd thought about was Remington. "The Earl of Gresham will be my escort this evening."
"Oh! Isn't that the gentleman you consider ... special?"
"It is indeed." Sammy sat down at the dressing table and proceeded to toy with her hair. "Let's do our best to make me as desirable as possible, shall we, Millie?"
Millie blushed. "Yes, ma'am."
Thirty minutes later Sammy whirled about before the looking glass, slipping her final hairpin into the coronet of roses upon her head. "Well, have we succeeded, Millie?" she demanded with a grin. "Do I look so enticing that no man could resist me?"
"Oh, yes, my lady," Millie breathed, her eyes wide with admiration. "You look beautiful."
