Free Lady In Waiting by Kathryn Caskie Page B

she had to marvel at the expansive room. Or rather at those inside. Ladies and gentlemen of substantial wealth and evident refinement mingled with one another while sipping the water. And not a one winced or cringed at the foul taste. Extraordinary.
    But even more amazing were the fashions the women wore. For if Jenny was not mistaken, Lady Marshall was wearing something she herself had only just read about in the Mirror of Fashio n — t he English Witzchoura.
    It appeared to be composed of superfine lilac and white cloth, and lined with what had to be the finest china silk. Its purpose was to shield the wearer from the inclemency of the weather, while preserving the gown worn under from being rumpled. Jenny marveled at Lady Marshall's modish appearance, for the Witzchoura formed a most elegant covering for days or even evening parties.
    She'd barely had time to take in the utility of the Witzchoura when she noticed another woman wearing the most divine cornet cap of blond lace and scarlet silk velvet she'd ever seen.
    Oh, why hadn't she thought to bring her scientific journal to make notes? 'Twas almost as if La Belle Assemblιe had sprung to life in the Pump Room, and here she was without a means to record her observations.
    And then she saw it and knew at once she must have
     
    75
    it. A girl, scarcely older than Meredith, strolled past her in a gown of paisley gauze, trimmed with soft white fur and black cording all around it. The dress was of moderate length, revealing white satin shoes that perfectly matched the young lady's kid gloves. The sleeves were full and appeared to fall gracefully over her shoulders, displaying, in a tasteful way of course, the girl's bust and back. Jenny stared as long as propriety would allow, drinking in every tiny detail and trying her best to commit it to memory.
    " 'Twould look all the more lovely on ye, my dear," came a voice inside her head.
    "I know . . ." she answered dreamily, only belatedly realizing that the voice was not inside her head at al l — but coming from the wicked viscount who was now standing beside her!
    Lifting her skirts an inch from the floor, she walked to one of the grand windows and peered out, hoping that if she ignored the Scot he would leave her alone. Maybe even retrain his eye on some other worthy quarry.
    Despite her intention to pay him no heed, her heart thudded inside of her, and willing herself not to turn around became dreadfully difficult. But she couldn't allow herself to do it. That would only encourage him and show him her discomfort. So instead she stared ever forward.
    There, outside a few feet from the window stood a little man, not much taller than Jenny's midthigh.
    Well, he was certainly unique, wasn't he now?
    She leaned her forehead upon the cold glass and studied him. His clothes were wrinkled, and stained, but free of any rips or tears. Gleaming in the thin light, a tiny top hat sat upon his overlarge head, which was shaped,
    76
    oddly enough, like a balloon Jenny had once seen at an ascension in London's Hyde Park.
    But probably the most remarkable thing about the little man was that he was practically barking at three members of the Quality, all of whom were sneering back at him.
    Fascinated, Jenny watched as the three finely dressed individuals, two dandies with walking sticks and a woman wearing a rich scarlet turban, left the little man in the street and entered the Pump Room.
    Something didn't feel right about them. As she heard the doors open, Jenny was compelled to turn around to look at the three. But when she did, Callu m was standing right there before her wearing that cocky, crooked . grin of his.
    Jenny grimaced, and bent to the side to look past him at the trio, who were now moving toward the pump.
    Upon closer examination, the three individuals were not nearly as fashionable as Jenny had first believed. The woman's gown was considered quite modis h — a t least five years ago, Jenny note d — a nd the jewels that