“I wonder if you can find out who is on the list of potential brides. I’ve heard the list is quite short.” She clapped her hands with glee. “I can’t wait to tell Moses about this!”
Alarm surged through Hattie. She’d only wanted Flora to be happy for her—but she hadn’t anticipated this. “You can’t tell him,” she begged.
“Why not?”
“Because I swore my discretion, and really...” She drew a breath. “People will not view my employment with any charity, will they? Can you imagine what would be said of me if anyone knew my occupation?”
“Oh.” Flora paused. She frowned thoughtfully. And then she sighed wearily. “You’re right, of course. What was I thinking? They’ll say you’re a fallen woman.”
“They will?” Hattie asked, slightly startled. “I was thinking more that working was inappropriate, not that I—”
“And then they’ll imagine what sorts of salacious things you’re doing with him,” Flora added ominously, her eyes widening with alarm.
“Good God, Flora.”
“Hattie—we can’t tellanyoneabout this,” Flora said, as if Hattie had been threatening to expose herself. “Except Queenie. Wemusttell Queenie. Please don’t look at me like that—Queenie wouldn’t breathe a word.”
“Really? Because Queenie is very good at breathing the words of any number of rumors, you may have noticed.”
“But not this,” Flora said confidently. “You are our dear friend. She would never.”
She was not Queenie’s dear friend, but before Hattie could gather her thoughts to object, Flora had rushed into her dressing room to find a gown to wear this evening, chattering about the many unmarried women she was certain would consider themselves at the very top of the viscount’s list.
“Not I!” she called from the dressing room. “I’m certain I’m not evenonthe list.” She popped her head out. “I don’t think I could bear it if I was, Hattie. I don’t. There are too many people watching. But did I tell you? I’ve been invited to dine at the Forsythes’ soon, and the viscount is the honored guest.”
Hattie gasped. “That must mean you areonthe list!”
Flora returned from her dressing room, her expression suddenly somber. She sank down on the chaise next to Hattie. “Between you and me, I fear that I am. I wouldn’t know what to say, Hattie. You know how I am—I’d be so tongue-tied as to make a cake of myself. And it’s even worse when someone is as handsome and important as he is.”
Hattie had never seen Flora tongue-tied. This uncertainty in her friend was surprising—she’d always seemed self-assured.
“And when I think of every woman who will have an introduction? I couldn’t possibly compete.”
“Flora!” Hattie took her hand in hers. “You’re so beautiful. And kind. Andsmart. They must all compete withyou.”
Flora’s smile was a little thin. “Thank you for trying to reassure me, darling, but never mind me.Youwill know who catches his eye and can tell us! Won’t it be delicious to know before everyone else who he intends to offer for?”
As Flora rattled on, Hattie privately chastised herself. She’d been so careless! She would have to be very careful what she said from here on—she was not about to lose this work before she’d even begun.
She needed this position to escape her life.
CHAPTER SIX
THENEXTAFTERNOON, at five to two, Hattie was standing at the servants’ entrance of the viscount’s house on Grosvenor Square. She carried a small leather satchel, a surprising gift from her brother, Daniel, upon her graduation from the Iddesleigh School for Exceptional Girls many years ago. He was not one to give gifts.
Inside the bag she had two pencils, notepaper, an apple, and a bit of bread tucked inside a cheesecloth. Lord Iddesleigh said she would spend only a couple of hours on those afternoons she worked, but one must always be prepared for contingencies. Mrs. O’Malley, the proprietor of the sweets shop, had taught her that. “Always have a bit of something in your reticule in the event you are a little peckish,” she’d said, and had wrapped a few hard candies for Hattie. “Just a little something to keep you going.”
Hattie knocked on the door of the servants’ entrance, but no one came. She checked the watch pinned to her chest. She could have waited patiently at home and arrived at the requested hour, but her parents were arguing about a purchase her mother had made and, well, Hattie would rather take her chances waiting on a stoop, thank you.
The door suddenly swung open, and someone threw a bucketful of mop water out. Hattie shrieked and jumped back, but the mop water caught the hem of her gown.
An elderly woman with a thick pile of silver hair atop her head came out on the stoop and looked Hattie up and down.“Puedo ayudarla, señorita?”
“I’m terribly sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.”
The woman held up a finger.“Un momento.”She disappeared back inside.
A few moments later, a round man came out to the stoop and peered down at her. “Oh,” he said, a twinge of disdain in his voice. “You must be the hired help.”
