He was waiting for her at the bottom. When she was standing in front of him again, she reached up to adjust her spectacles.
“Your problem is that you do not appreciate initiative in a partner,” she said.
“Perhaps that is because I am not accustomed to working with one. Haven’t had a partner in years.”
That piqued her interest. “You once had a partner?”
“Back at the beginning,” he said absently. He removed his coat. “How do I look?”
She peered at him closely, but the only aspect of his footman’s livery that she could make out in the dark shadows was the pale wig. “I can’t say for certain. It is too dark.”
“Your cap is askew.” He raised his hands to her hair. “Here, I’ll adjust it.”
“I vow, you have the eyes of a cat, Ambrose.”
“That’s what Stoner always said.” He took her hand. “Come along, my dear, we’re off to the ball. After tonight you will not be able to say that I do not take you into elevated social circles.”
T
WO HOURS LATER
, Concordia darted down a darkened hall and opened a narrow door. A shaft of light from the hall revealed a large closet filled with mops, brooms, buckets and brushes.
She slipped inside and closed the door. Alone at last, she thought, slumping wearily against the closet door.
Who would have thought that playing the part of a maid for one evening would prove to be so exhausting? She had not had a moment’s respite since she had snuck into the ladies’ withdrawing room.
Together with two other equally harried servants, she had assisted an endless series of demanding female guests. Most of the time had been spent on her knees, helping ladies into their dancing slippers and hooking up the elaborate trains of their sumptuous gowns so that they could waltz without tripping over their skirts. In addition there were a number of small disasters involving spilled champagne and torn petticoats. There had also been one or two instances in which she had been called upon to clean some suspicious grass stains on satin skirts.
At least there had been no fear of discovery, she thought ruefully. A maid’s white cap and apron had proved to be as good as a weeping veil when it came to a disguise. None of the elegant ladies who had passed through the withdrawing room had taken any notice of the hardworking servants.
The other maids had accepted her presence without question.
Everyone was far too busy to be anything other than grateful for the additional help. Furthermore, no one expected a servant who had been taken on just for the evening to know her way around the mansion.
The only truly unsettling moment had occurred when Mrs. Hoxton, resplendent in a heavily flounced and frilled gown of pink and purple satin, had swept through the door of the withdrawing room.
But the gracious benefactress of the Winslow Charity School for Girls had barely spoken to, let alone glanced at, the maid who had crouched on the carpet to hook up the long, frothy train of the dress.
Reluctantly she raised her hands to her cap to make certain it still sat properly on her head and then opened the door.
She slipped back out into the quiet hall, wondering if Ambrose had spotted the elusive Mr. Trimley in the ballroom.
“Well, well, well, what have we here? Hiding to avoid your duties, I see.”
The voice behind her was male and badly slurred from the effects of too much champagne. Concordia pretended not to hear. She hurried on down the hall toward the safety of the ladies’ withdrawing room.
Footsteps sounded heavily behind her. She picked up her skirts, preparing to break into a run.
A beefy male hand clamped around her upper arm, halting her in her tracks.
“Now just where do you think you’re off to in such a hurry?”
The hand on her arm forced her to turn around. She found herself confronting a large, stout gentleman dressed in expensively tailored black-and-white formal attire. There was enough light in the dim hall to
make out his features. She could see that at one time he had probably been quite handsome. But his face had taken on the coarseness that was the hallmark of too much heavy drinking, rich food and a dissolute lifestyle.
He leered at her. “Spectacles, eh? Don’t believe I’ve ever tumbled a maid who wore eyeglasses. A first time for everything, I always say.”
The urge to slap his face was almost overwhelming. She reminded herself that she was supposed to be a maid. Servants did not smack gentlemen guests. Neither did teachers, come to that, not if they wished to remain in their posts.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, working very hard to keep her voice cool, calm and ever so respectful. “I am expected back in the ladies’ withdrawing room.”
He made a wet, chuckling sound. “No need to be concerned about the time. I’ll be quick about it.”
“Please let me go, sir. They will send someone to look for me if I do not return to my duties immediately.”
“Doubt anyone will miss one little maid for a few minutes. Got plenty of them running about the house tonight.” He started to haul her back toward the storage closet. “Come along now, let’s have some fun. I’ll make it worth your while, never fear.”
Outrage swept over her. She cast aside her humble maid’s accents and launched into her schoolroom voice.
“How dare you, sir?” she snapped. “Is this the way you treat those whose station in life is not equal to your own? Have you no manners? No breeding? No sense of decency?”
The lecherous drunk stopped and stared in astonishment, as though some inanimate object had spoken to him.
“What’s this?” he said, somewhat blankly.
“You should be ashamed of yourself. You have no right whatsoever to take advantage of females who are obliged to go into service to make an honest living. Indeed, a true gentleman would see it as his duty to protect such women.”
She tried to take advantage of his surprise to free her arm. But his big hand tightened painfully around her. His sickening leer twisted into an expression of righteous indignation.
“And just who in blazes do you think you are to take that tone of voice with your betters?” He used his grip on her arm to give her a violent shake. “I’ll teach you your place. Damned, if I won’t.”
He yanked hard, hauling her toward the closet.
For the first time, Concordia felt a wave of real fear. Matters were escalating out of control. Hoping that there were other servants nearby who might be willing to come to her aid, she opened her mouth to yell for assistance.
The drunken gentleman clamped a massive hand over her lips. “Keep quiet or it will go all the harder for you and that’s a promise. You can bloody well forget about a tip, too.”
He got the door of the storage closet open and started to pull her into the darkness. His palm covered her nose as well as her mouth. It was all she could do to breathe. Her rising panic was infused with fury.
She reached up and raked her nails across his cheek.
He roared with pain and released her to put a hand to his injured face. “What the devil have you done to me, you stupid bitch?”
She planted both hands against his chest and shoved with all her strength.
The drunken man lost his balance, stumbled backward and went down hard on his rear on the floor of the closet.
She slammed the door closed and turned the key in the lock.
“There you are,” Ambrose said from somewhere in the corridor behind her. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Just what she needed, she thought, adjusting her spectacles. If Ambrose knew that she had very nearly been assaulted he would no doubt send her straight back to the mansion in a cab.
“I was just taking a little rest,” she assured him, straightening her cap and apron. “Being a ladies’ maid is really quite exhausting, you know.”
There was a furious pounding on the door behind her. An irate, albeit muffled voice boomed through the wood panels.
“Let me out of here, you bitch. How dare you treat your betters in this disrespectful manner! I’ll see to it you’re turned off without a reference this very night. You’ll be on the streets before dawn.”
Ambrose contemplated the door.
“Was there a problem?” he asked neutrally.
“No, not at all.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “Nothing I could not handle. Why were you looking for me?”
The door behind her shuddered beneath another series of blows.
“Open this door at once.”
“Stand aside,” Ambrose said to Concordia.
A fresh wave of panic slammed through her. “Ambrose, you must not do anything rash. You cannot afford to engage in a brawl with a gentleman tonight. It will put your entire scheme at risk.”
“Hold these.” He tossed his topcoat and her cloak into her arms.
“Ambrose, please, we have more serious matters to concern us tonight. This is no time to get distracted.”
“This will only take a moment.” He unlocked the door, opened it and stepped inside.
“About time,” the enraged man began. He broke off, eyes widening, when he saw Ambrose. “What’s going on here? What do you think you’re—”
The door closed, leaving him alone with Ambrose inside the closet.
Concordia heard a few quiet words followed by a couple of unpleasant, muffled thuds. She winced.
The door opened. Ambrose emerged, righting his footman’s wig. Concordia caught a brief glimpse of a crumpled form on the floor of the cupboard before the door closed again.
“Right, then, that’s that,” Ambrose said. “Let’s be on our way. We have lost enough time as it is.”
“You didn’t kill him, I trust,” Concordia said anxiously.
“I didn’t kill him,” Ambrose agreed, ushering her swiftly along the hall.
“It was not my fault.”
“No, it was mine for allowing you to participate in this venture tonight. I should have known better.”
“Now, Ambrose, that’s not fair. I thought I dealt with the situation very effectively.”
“You did. That is not what concerns me.”
“What does concern you?” she demanded.
“The fact that he got a close look at your face and could describe you to someone else.”
“No need to fret about that,” she assured him. “Between the poor lighting and the fact that he was quite drunk, not to mention whatever you just did to him, he will recall very little, if anything, about what took place tonight. I’m certain that he would not be able to describe me. Besides, no one remembers the maid.”
“We will discuss the matter later. At the moment there is no time to waste.”
He was moving so quickly that she was forced to run every other step in order to keep up with him. “How did you find me?”
“One of the other maids working in the withdrawing room said that you had disappeared down this hall.”
They went along a balcony that overlooked the ballroom. She heard brittle, insincere laughter and languid voices raised in inebriated conversation. She glanced down at the glittering scene. The chandeliers glowed on the ladies’ jeweled gowns and made the gentlemen look quite elegant in their black-and-white formal attire. It was a glimpse of another world, she thought, a pretty bauble of a world, indeed.
“I regret that you were not able to enjoy your fairy tale,” Ambrose said quietly.
“I am quite certain that nothing that is happening down there in that
ballroom could be half as exciting as the adventure we are sharing. Your profession is a most interesting one, Ambrose.”
He looked startled. Then he gave her a slow smile. “It is rarely dull.”
“Why are we rushing like this?” she asked. “What has happened? Did you spot Trimley?”
“Yes. He arrived with Mrs. Hoxton and has been hanging around her all evening.”
“Excellent. But why did you come looking for me? I thought your plan was to observe him.”
“It was. But a short time ago one of the footmen handed him a note. Whatever news it contained seemed to concern Trimley greatly. He made some excuse to Mrs. Hoxton and the others and exited very quietly out of the ballroom. I followed him and heard him call for his hat, coat and a hansom.”
“He is leaving?”
“Yes. But with any luck at all, it will take him a while to get a cab. The street outside is crammed with vehicles because of the crowd here tonight.”
“I wonder why he did not request Mrs. Hoxton’s carriage.”
“I suspect it is because he did not want her coachman to know where he is going,” Ambrose said with soft satisfaction.
Excitement sparked inside her. “You believe that he is off to some clandestine rendezvous?”
“Yes. There was an air of urgency about the way he made his excuses and slipped away from the ballroom.”
“What are we going to do?”
“My intention was to leave you here while I followed him. There was something in that note that got his full attention. I want to see where he goes in response to it.”
“I want to come with you,” she said quickly.
“Never fear, you are most certainly leaving with me,” he said grimly. “After that unfortunate episode back there in the broom closet, I’m not about to take the chance of leaving you here alone.”
“Now, Ambrose, you are making far too much of that small incident.”
“
Small incident?
The man tried to rape you.”
“It is not the first time I have dealt with his type. In the course of my career as an instructor of young ladies, I have been obliged to put a number of the male relatives of my students in their place. You would be amazed to learn how many so-called gentlemen do not hesitate to take advantage of a woman they perceive to be alone and without resources.”
He glanced at her, mouth curving with reluctant admiration. “You have certainly led an adventurous life, Miss Glade.”
“As have you, Mr. Wells.”
They turned a corner and merged into a river of footmen carrying heavy silver platters to and from the buffet tables.
When they arrived in the hot, smoky kitchens, a cook glowered at them.
“And just where do you two think yer going?” she demanded, wiping sweat from her cheeks with her apron. “There’s work to be done around here.”
“We’ll be right back,” Ambrose assured her. “Betsy needs some fresh air.”
“Does she now? Well, she can bloody well get her fresh air after madam’s guests have all gone home.” The cook eyed the coat and cloak that Concordia carried. “Where did you get those? Did you help yourself to some of the guests’ things? Is that why you’re rushing off so quickly?”