Suffragette in the City by Katie MacAlister

Author:Katie MacAlister [MacAlister, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance
ISBN: 9781461184430
Google: dFuMZwEACAAJ
Amazon: B0050Q58GU
Barnesnoble: B0050Q58GU
Goodreads: 11378188
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2010-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Later, as I was dressing, I told Annie about my plan for her to have a cottage on my father’s estate while she had her confinement. When she came back to work, as she professed she wanted to, the servants would know nothing of what happened.

“Are you sure you want to leave the child with your sister? I’m sure we could work out a way for you to keep the baby with you, although it would mean leaving Mabel’s house.”

“That’s alright, miss. My sister said one more mouth wouldn’t make that much difference, and I can visit whenever I like.”

I thought the arrangement sounded sad, but Annie was happy, and I had confidence in her family. “What about Mr. Jones, Annie? Have you told him?”

“I’ve written to him, but he won’t reply,” she responded grimly.

I decided—for the present—not to push her further, but I was determined to see her happily settled. Mulling over a way to achieve this goal, I sat before the dressing table and braided my hair in preparation for donning a black wig purchased from the dressmaker. Certain that red hair was out of place on Scheherazade, I planned to wear the wig and the veils as my disguise, the thought of moving about in company completely unknown strangely thrilling.

Annie worked at twining faux pearls through the wig while I played with my braid and tried to work up enough nerve to bring out the item I had purchased earlier. I took a deep breath, opened a drawer, and nervously removed a small black object. Annie looked at me curiously, watching in the mirror. Consulting the (somewhat scandalous) Arabian Nights I borrowed from Joshua’s library, I carefully outlined my eyes with the kohl stick.

“Oh, miss!” Annie gasped. “You look ever so foreign!”

I looked at my heavily ringed eyes. “I don’t know about foreign—I certainly look as if I have been up a chimney.”

“It’s a lovely touch, miss, do leave it,” she said as I made a move to wipe it off. “No one would recognize you with the black wig and the dark eyes.”

Anonymity had its charms, so I left the kohl and finished dressing. I stood in front of the mirror, swathed from head to foot in floating veils, the embroidered jewels sparkling, and the long dark tresses of my wig reaching to my waist. I felt exotic and mysterious behind the veils, and relished the thought that no one would know who I was.

The walk downstairs to the library was a sensuous experience, the lightweight gauze swinging against my bare legs (Scheherazade did not wear stockings). I couldn’t help but think of Griffin’s kisses and touches as the material rippled around me, caressing my skin. Robert grinned as I came into the library, and let out a low, long whistle. Mabel fussed about the sheerness of the material, and almost had a fit when she saw my two inches of bare midriff. By the time Uncle Henry called at the front door Joshua had to physically restrain her from hustling me upstairs and into a sturdier ensemble.

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