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“Yes. Of course.” Amelia was surprised her own voice worked as well as it did. She’d been crying since she fell into Driscoll’s arms and her eyes burned and her nose was stuffy.
“Then you must call me Diana.” She smiled warmly and Amelia felt more at ease than she had for days.
“We have a bathing room down the corridor. I had a bath prepared for you, assuming you would like to relax for a bit.”
Amelia closed her eyes. “That would be wonderful. They sprayed me with some sort of perfume that is making me nauseous.”
Diana smiled in sympathy. “I noticed.”
Thankful that Diana did not wish to question her, Amelia followed her
down the corridor to a wonderful room where she could easily spend the next few hours.
A large copper bathing tub sat against one wall, steam from the water misting softly in the air. A small table sat next to the tub with soap and a linen square placed on it. Behind the tub, two towels, large and fluffy, hung on a rack. Amelia groaned at the sight.
“That’s what I thought,” Diana said with a smile. “I will leave you to your bath.” She pointed to a large comfortable chair in the corner opposite the tub. “I placed some clean clothing there for you to change into.
“In a little while I will send my maid up to assist you in dressing. She will bring you down to the drawing room when you are finished.”
Tears welled in Amelia’s eyes again. “I don’t know how to thank you. Or your husband, and Dante. . .” She shook her head, unable to continue.
Diana touched her arm gently. “Be at ease, Amelia. We are all happy to see you safe and away from that horrible place.” Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. “Enjoy your bath. I know Driscoll is anxious to see you.”
Driscoll.
Was he angry with her for not telling him what he’d asked her for weeks? Yes, he rescued her, but that could be because she was an employee and he felt honor-bound to do that.
She removed the horrid night clothes they’d forced her to wear and tossed them in the corner, hoping she would have the enjoyment of burning them. She climbed into the tub, sighing as the warm water enveloped her body. She took the small linen square, rubbed the sweet-smelling soap over it and washed the face paint off. She was appalled at the way they had forced her to dress. A jolt of panic raced through her when she thought about how close she’d come to being presented dressed as a courtesan in front of who knows how many men all eager to bid on her.
She slid down in the water and washed her hair. She scrubbed her skin so hard she thought she would rub it off. No sooner had she’d finished washing than a soft knock on the door drew her attention. “Please come.”
A small maid entered and offered her a warm smile. “Good evening, Miss, I am Theresa. Her ladyship asked that I assist you.”
She nodded to the young maid. “Thank you. That will be very nice.”
Being raised the way she had, she had no problem with the maid helping her out of the tub, drying her off and helping her dress. “I believe they are anxious for you to join them in the drawing room, so may I have permission to fix your hair in such a way that we don’t have to wait for it to dry?”
“Yes. That would be fine.” She turned so the maid could fasten the back of the gown Diana had left for her. “They are anxious for me?”
Theresa walked around her and smiled. “Actually, Mr. Driscoll is anxious to see you. He has been pacing the drawing room since they arrived.”
Theresa had her sit at the small dressing table in the bathing room where she plaited her hair, then wrapped the plaits around her head, fastening them with pins. Looking in the mirror, Amelia could hardly reconcile the woman in the mirror to the one who arrived with face paint, loose hair, and dressed in scandalous nightclothes.
“I have been asked to escort you to the drawing room when we are finished,” Theresa said. She looked over Amelia’s shoulder and smiled at her in the mirror. “I believe we are ready.”
Amelia nodded and stood. They walked the corridor to the stairs that led to the ground floor where the public rooms were located. Amelia’s heart began to pound, and she was finding it hard to catch her breath. Driscoll stood on the other side of the imposing, large wooden door.
Would he turn from her in anger? In disgust? Might he tell her she was no longer employed by The Rose Room? Would he insist she return to Randolph with a warning to him to treat her better?
Stiffening her spine, she took a deep breath and stepped through the door the footman opened. Diana, Lord Huntington, Dante and Driscoll ceased their conversation and turned at her entrance. She had to tamp down the urge to flee.
Driscoll walked up to her and took her hands in his. “Are you feeling well, my love?”
She stared into his eyes. Anger?
No. Disgust?
No. Concern?
