maids and manservants will be waiting to assist you in changing, and then hurry
back!”
“Yes, Mrs. Hart,” Lord Savage said, smiling still as he leaned back against the bench.
“Do hurry back. I’m not very good at waiting.”
That was all the incentive I required. I rushed up the stairs to my room, eager to
see the costume that Lady Carleigh had provided. The viscountess was known for her
extravagant taste, and I was sure the costume would be exquisite, even if it wasn’t
by Poiret, and tightly laced, too. The viscountess did know how to dress herself to
please gentlemen, and I was reassured by that. How could I not be, with Lord Savage
waiting impatiently for me?
But when I entered my bedroom, the costume lying on the bed for me made me gasp with
dismay.
It was the simplest of garments, a long shift of sheer white silk, untrimmed and without
sleeves, and made to slip over the head without any fastenings.
“Simpson!” I called, and the maid appeared instantly from the dressing room. “Simpson,
her ladyship said she’d sent me a fancy dress costume to wear tonight. Where is it?
Or at least where is the rest of it?”
“That is the costume, ma’am,” Simpson said. “And that is all of it.”
“This?” I plucked the costume from the bed, holding it up. The silk was so sheer that
I could see right through it—as would everyone else. “I cannot wear this. It won’t even cover my corset!”
“It’s not supposed to, ma’am,” Simpson said, her face impassive. “You’re not to wear
a corset, nor anything else. Just the costume, ma’am.”
“Nothing?” Appalled, I stared at the filmy silk in my hands. By comparison, the costume
of the dancer I’d just seen was propriety itself. “I might as well parade myself naked
as to wear this. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” Simpson said. “That’s rather the purpose, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be impudent,” I snapped. “Why would her ladyship expect her guests to appear
is such a—a state of nudity?”
“Not all her guests, ma’am,” Simpson said. “Only the newcomers. The newcomer gentlemen
will be wearing trousers of the same stuff, and without any drawers beneath, neither.
Nothing’s to be hidden, ma’am, not tonight.”
“Nothing’s to be hidden?” I repeated, my voice rising. Certainly nothing would be
hidden if I were to appear in this—this costume. “Hidden from what?”
“From the Protectors, ma’am,” Simpson said, as if this were the most obvious explanation
in the world. “Forgive me, ma’am, but didn’t her ladyship explain the Game to you?”
“No, she did not,” I said. “Simpson, go to her ladyship and tell her that I must speak
to her at once. At once!”
The maid curtseyed and left, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, the costume still
clutched in my hands. I looked down at it, seeing how the stones of my rings showed
through the silk. Not even Arthur had seen me in such a revealing garment. I could
not imagine appearing before a group of virtual strangers in such an indecent state.
It would be one thing to undress before Lord Savage, as a lover would in my bedroom,
but not this. With a wordless exclamation I balled up the costume and hurled it across the bed.
“Mrs. Hart?” Sounding faintly wounded, Lady Carleigh stood in the door with Simpson
hovering behind her. “I understand you are having some misgivings about my taste in
costumes.”
I came forward and shut the door behind the other woman, leaving Simpson in the hall.
I took a deep breath to compose myself, and chose my words with care. I didn’t wish
to offend the viscountess, but I did need to make my misgivings clear.
“When I accepted your invitation, Lady Carleigh,” I began, “I thought I would be attending
a house party in the country. I’d no idea that you would be turning your house into
a—a brothel, with your guests expected to parade about in next to nothing!”
“A
back!”
“Yes, Mrs. Hart,” Lord Savage said, smiling still as he leaned back against the bench.
“Do hurry back. I’m not very good at waiting.”
That was all the incentive I required. I rushed up the stairs to my room, eager to
see the costume that Lady Carleigh had provided. The viscountess was known for her
extravagant taste, and I was sure the costume would be exquisite, even if it wasn’t
by Poiret, and tightly laced, too. The viscountess did know how to dress herself to
please gentlemen, and I was reassured by that. How could I not be, with Lord Savage
waiting impatiently for me?
But when I entered my bedroom, the costume lying on the bed for me made me gasp with
dismay.
It was the simplest of garments, a long shift of sheer white silk, untrimmed and without
sleeves, and made to slip over the head without any fastenings.
“Simpson!” I called, and the maid appeared instantly from the dressing room. “Simpson,
her ladyship said she’d sent me a fancy dress costume to wear tonight. Where is it?
Or at least where is the rest of it?”
“That is the costume, ma’am,” Simpson said. “And that is all of it.”
“This?” I plucked the costume from the bed, holding it up. The silk was so sheer that
I could see right through it—as would everyone else. “I cannot wear this. It won’t even cover my corset!”
“It’s not supposed to, ma’am,” Simpson said, her face impassive. “You’re not to wear
a corset, nor anything else. Just the costume, ma’am.”
“Nothing?” Appalled, I stared at the filmy silk in my hands. By comparison, the costume
of the dancer I’d just seen was propriety itself. “I might as well parade myself naked
as to wear this. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” Simpson said. “That’s rather the purpose, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be impudent,” I snapped. “Why would her ladyship expect her guests to appear
is such a—a state of nudity?”
“Not all her guests, ma’am,” Simpson said. “Only the newcomers. The newcomer gentlemen
will be wearing trousers of the same stuff, and without any drawers beneath, neither.
Nothing’s to be hidden, ma’am, not tonight.”
“Nothing’s to be hidden?” I repeated, my voice rising. Certainly nothing would be
hidden if I were to appear in this—this costume. “Hidden from what?”
“From the Protectors, ma’am,” Simpson said, as if this were the most obvious explanation
in the world. “Forgive me, ma’am, but didn’t her ladyship explain the Game to you?”
“No, she did not,” I said. “Simpson, go to her ladyship and tell her that I must speak
to her at once. At once!”
The maid curtseyed and left, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, the costume still
clutched in my hands. I looked down at it, seeing how the stones of my rings showed
through the silk. Not even Arthur had seen me in such a revealing garment. I could
not imagine appearing before a group of virtual strangers in such an indecent state.
It would be one thing to undress before Lord Savage, as a lover would in my bedroom,
but not this. With a wordless exclamation I balled up the costume and hurled it across the bed.
“Mrs. Hart?” Sounding faintly wounded, Lady Carleigh stood in the door with Simpson
hovering behind her. “I understand you are having some misgivings about my taste in
costumes.”
I came forward and shut the door behind the other woman, leaving Simpson in the hall.
I took a deep breath to compose myself, and chose my words with care. I didn’t wish
to offend the viscountess, but I did need to make my misgivings clear.
“When I accepted your invitation, Lady Carleigh,” I began, “I thought I would be attending
a house party in the country. I’d no idea that you would be turning your house into
a—a brothel, with your guests expected to parade about in next to nothing!”
“A
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