High Society - Page 62
I nodded, trying to ignore the throbbing behind my eyes.
“Are you feeling okay?” Mary asked, her shrewd eyes assessing the tightness of my shoulders.
I offered my most disarming smile to throw her off the scent. “Yes. Why? Do I look bad?” I held the top of my suit over my breasts as she considered my question, looking me over a few times.
“Something seems off with you.”
“I think I dozed off in the tub. The warm water relaxes me too much sometimes,” I lied.
She gave an m-hmm sound and clapped her hands. “Did you pick out a gown?” I winced, making her chuckle. She walked to the wardrobe, examining each one until her hand stalled over a gown made of deep purple silk. “This color would suit you.”
I weighed the dress in my mind. The gown was magnificent on its own, with no need for embellishment. As such, there were no ruffles or lace. Mary removed the gown from the wardrobe and bent over to choose a pair of matching boots. A lacy silver pair must have called to her, because that’s what she withdrew. She found knee stockings in the drawer.
“I don’t need those. I’ll have my suit on,” I argued weakly, knowing I would lose the battle.
She clucked her tongue. “Unless it magically stretches over your heels, you’ll need these. Dancing causes blisters.”
Dancing in shoes would cause blisters. Dancing barefoot would be bliss.
Besides, my suit could heal blisters, which made me wonder why it wouldn’t heal my headaches, or whatever else kept assaulting me. Was something so drastically wrong with my system that my suit wasn’t up to the task?
“Let’s get you dressed. Your friend is already ready.”
Titus was probably cursing his cravat right now. “Is he downstairs?”
“He’s out back talking to some of the soldiers.”
“So he’s at home, basically.”
She chuckled. “Seems so.” Mary helped me with the stockings, a shift, and then the corset stays… which I cursed soundly in my mind. Why did women have to bind themselves up like this? It was uncomfortable and aggravating. She adjusted my suit beneath my undergarments and looked to the bed where my holster and stakes lay. “You wearin’ those?”
“I have to.”
Mary eyeballed them warily. She must have known what they were for, but instead of offering her opinion, she held the dress up while I dove inside. Then, she brushed my hair out and braided thick sections, pinning them in whorls at the base of my neck. “You look beautiful,” she said quietly. “You know, I had a daughter once.”
Had?
The question must have been written on my face.
“She died. Wasn’t much older than you.”
“By violence?” I croaked.
She shook her head. “Thank God, no. She caught a fever and couldn’t fight it.”
“I’m sorry, Mary.”
“Me too,” she agreed. “Mamas should never have to bury their children. It ain’t natural.”
I could tell the loss of Mary’s daughter left a void nothing could fill. She would undoubtedly miss her the rest of her life. And while the sharpness wasn’t constant, every so often it would rear its head and remind her of what was lost.
I offered quietly, “My mother was killed. I watched it happen.” Her brows furrowed, and then her eyes flicked to my stakes again in sudden understanding. I nodded. “That’s why I have to carry them. A vampire killed her.”
Mary swallowed thickly. “I don’t mean you no harm.”
“I know you don’t, Mary. You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”
“Asa told me to make sure you were comfortable.”