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Rose lay on her bed. “In a moment.” She let out a soft snore.
“For goodness’ sake,” Lily muttered. She walked against the wall for support until she came to the chamber the modiste was using.
“Ma belle, do come in.” Madame LeRou held up the red garment. “I think you will be pleased. I will do the final fitting and then bring the gown to your chamber by the hour of ten. Is that acceptable?”
Lily hiccoughed. “Yes.”
Madame turned Lily so quickly that her head spun and she nearly lost her balance. Quickly the modiste unfastened her and had her step into the new gown. Lily stood quietly, her pulse racing, while Madame LeRou measured her and placed pins on the gown.
“Bien,” she said. “Now off with you. Madame has work to do.”
Lily dressed with Madame’s help, left the room, and walked back to her chamber slowly, blinking her eyes to keep them open. Rose was asleep on the bed. She would miss dinner. Lily decided not to wake her. Her afternoon dress was in decent shape, and it was one of her more glamorous ones. It would substitute nicely for a dinner gown. She took a deep breath and judged her appearance in the looking glass. Her reflection was blurry, but she was sure everything would be fine. She went to the door and grabbed the first servant she saw in the hallway and bade her to take care of Brandy until Rose woke up. Then she made her way to the double stairway, holding the railing for support.
* * *
Daniel glanced up and saw Lily enter the spacious dining room. Something wasn’t right. He rose and swiftly walked toward her, taking her arm.
“Lily, are you quite all right?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” She enunciated her words slowly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because your dress is rumpled and your hair is…” He inhaled. “Oh Christ. What have you been drinking?”
“The wine you gave me, my lord. That is, Your Grace. Who are you again?” She started to giggle.
“Come on.” He briskly ushered her from the room.
“What will people think?” She hiccoughed. “Oops, sorry.”
“Since when do you give—how do you like to put it?—two figs what people think?” He led her to the servants’ stairway and up the two flights to his suite.
“Oh, no. I’m not going to bed with you.” She hiccoughed again. “I’m not, I tell you.”
“You must really think the worst of me.” He shook his head. “Do you honestly believe I would take an inebriated woman to bed?”
“What?” Then, “Where’s Brandy, Daniel? Oh, I left her with a maid in my chamber. I want her.”
“Here, lie down.” He led her gently to the bed.
“I want my puppy.”
“I’ll get her for you.”
He pulled the bell cord and Putney appeared quickly. Daniel whispered to him for a few minutes and then went into his bath chamber. He returned, poured a glass of water from a pitcher on his dressing table, and went to Lily. “Here,” he said, tearing open a small packet. “Put this on your tongue. It will ease your headache.”
“My head doesn’t ache.”
“Call it a preemptive strike then. Stick out your tongue.”
She obeyed, and he poured the powder on it.
“It’s bitter!”
“Yes, I know.” He held the water to her mouth. “Drink.”
She gulped down a few swallows.
“Now, do you want to tell me why you were drinking wine this afternoon?”
