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situation,” she admitted quietly. “You may have heard that my husband is missing. I have to do something to support myself while I am here and the only thing I can do is sing.”
    Hetty nodded her head. “I heard ‘bout Mr. Randolph. Well, yes. I c’n work on this. Leave it to me, honey. I’s sure I can work with yo’ drawin’s and if not, I knows where to find yo’.”
    Tears stung Serena’s eyes. She had not for one moment ever imagined herself in such a predicament, nor that the most unlikely ladies would come to her aid. How many of her friends at home in England would have rallied to her side so readily?
    Choked with sudden emotion, Serena held back tears. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she whispered.
    “Oh, no need to thank us,” Maggie said stoutly. “We all enjoy a good sing song, don’t we Hetty?”
    Hetty nodded her agreement but was looking Serena up and down. “If’n you’ll step back here and git that outfit off, I c’n take some measurements.”
    Serena followed Hetty into the back room and removed her jacket. She hung it across the back of a chair, then removed her skirt and folded that, too, while Hetty rummaged on a work table for paper and pencil. When she turned around, she stared hard at Serena.
    “Lordy, lordy. Whut’s that yo’ wearin’?”
    Serena looked down at her underwear. “Oh, this you mean?” She indicated the garment that looked like a basic dress bodice with no sleeves or skirt and fitted over her breasts like a glove. “It’s called a corselet gorge . It’s an invention of Herminie Cadolle. They’re all the rage in Paris. It’s far more comfortable than wearing a full corset, which I haven’t done for years, but it still gives the bust a little support.”
    “That’s no more’n a handkerchief,” Hetty mumbled, looking closely at the cut and fit of the garment. “But then, yo’se so trim ‘n perky ‘n all, you prob’ly don’t need nothin’. Now, hold yo’ arms away from yo’ body so’s I kin get t’ work.”
    It didn’t take long for Hetty to collect the measurements she needed. While Serena dressed herself again, Hetty wrote the information down in her notebook then closed it with a resounding snap before returning to the store. Serena followed her.
    “Go on now, both of ya. ” Hetty was already pulling fabric off the shelves. “I’ll send word when I’ve got someth’n ready.”
    Serena was deep i n thought as they left. Maggie’s talk of the brothels bothered her. She couldn’t imagine Randolph visiting one but, being far away from home, might he have gone looking for an affectionate interlude, however brief? Had he visited any of them? If he had, would any of the women have done him harm? Would any of their regular customers have accosted him? She had heard of such jealousies.
    The possibilities seemed endless, but maybe King would be careless with his conversation this evening.
    The thought gave her some hope.
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    She took her time dressing for dinner having decided on wearing a high-necked cream lace blouse and a hunter-green satin skirt. Even though she had her suspicions about King’s intentions, she refused to lower her standards. She piled her hair high on her head, allowing a few ringlets to fall to one side. Ladies were allowed to be late, but how late was something Serena did not want to test.
    Douglas King had a short fuse, she was sure. He waited for her in the foyer and she couldn’t fail to notice his clenched jaw and rigid stance as she walked down the stairs to meet him.
    “No wonder you took your time .” His annoyance faded as his hungry gaze roamed over her from head to toe. “You look lovely.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. An unpleasant shiver shimmied down her spine. She nearly snatched her hand away but caught herself and forced a smile instead.
    “Shall we?” Serena indicated the entrance to the dining room and extricated her hand from his.
    “First I have to