“I suspect Annie’s a lot trimmer than her usual attire would have us believe. Let’s go have a look.” Vicki marched purposefully down the corridor, with Katherine in hot pursuit, leaving Annie no choice but to slouch after them.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine the look she’d see on Sinclair’s face when they paraded her in front of him wearing one of the dresses that had already caused so much trouble. He’d be appalled. He’d probably think it was her idea. Some crude scheme to ensnare him.
Maybe he’d point-blank refuse to go.
“I think the silvery gray one will look lovely against her complexion.”
Did silvery gray look good against beetroot? Annie avoided looking in the large mirror on the front of the wardrobe. Vicki held up the long dress with its low-cut princess neckline and huge skirt.
“Of course, they would have worn it with a crinoline and loads of extra petticoats, but we’ll spare you that. Especially since we don’t have any. We’ll wait outside while you put it on.”
Annie was grateful for the slight nod to her modesty. She climbed out of her familiar shirt and khakis with a sinking feeling. If this didn’t fit, they’d only make her try on another. Worst-case scenario, she’d end up in the peacock dress she’d worn already, with them wondering why it looked so crumpled.
The dress was quite heavy, with built-in boning at the waist and yards of expensive silk. The short, puffy sleeves hugged her arms quite tightly, but there was no way she could do up the long line of buttons down the back by herself. “Um…”
“Need help?” Vicki was right outside the door. She opened it without an invitation. “Oh, yes.”
Annie felt hot and flustered under their rather stunned gazes. “I must look very silly.”
“Nonsense. You look lovely.” Katherine frowned. “What are we going to do with her hair?” Her eyes raked over Annie like she was a mannequin.
“Got to be an updo.” Vicki squinted at her. “I have some pins and hairspray in my room. And some earrings.”
They buttoned her into the dress, which fit almost perfectly. The original owner must have been quite chunky by Victorian standards, if this fit her corseted waist. The bodice hugged Annie’s cleavage in an embarrassing but flattering way, especially after Katherine convinced her to abandon her bra. Vicki fussed over her hair, creating tiny finger coils that framed her temples, and Katherine lent her a pair of pewter ballet flats.
“Won’t I be overdressed?” The silk skirt fell to the floor.
“A lady can never be overdressed.” Katherine eyed her with approval. “Especially not when she looks fabulous. Goodness, I’d never have guessed you had such a lovely figure. You should show it off more.”
Great. Now they’d probably get her a French maid’s uniform to wear while performing her duties.
“Maybe we’d better make sure Sinclair looks presentable.” Vicki glanced toward the door.
“Oh, don’t worry about him. He always looks good. Horribly unfair. I don’t know how he stays so tanned, either. He always seems to have his face in his laptop.”
“I suspect Sinclair of having a secret life.” Vicki snuck a wink at Annie, who pretended not to notice.
“Where he’s out lying in the sun?”
“Or running along the beach with the wind in his hair.” Vicki laughed. “I have a feeling most people only see a tiny part of the real Sinclair.”
“Hmm.” Katherine looked doubtful. “Well, as long as the other parts are going to give me a grandchild before I get too old and decrepit, that’s fine. He doesn’t know he’s going with Annie instead yet, does he?”
“I haven’t breathed a word. I think we should stay out of the way until the last minute, then surprise him with her.” Annie cringed, but had long given up trying to shape the evening’s events. All she could do now was brace herself.
* * *
Three hours later, the sound of Sinclair’s tread on the stairs made her gut clench into a fist. He’d been in his room almost since lunch, supposedly working. He hadn’t heard about Vicki’s supposed headache. Or that he was about to see his housekeeper dressed like some sacrificial virgin—except without the virgin part.
“Come, stand here. I can’t wait to see his face.” Vicki prodded her into position in the alcove between the living room and the front hallway. Annie wished she could warn him somehow. What look would they all see on his face? Horror, quite likely. Then maybe disgust.
“Sinclair, darling, do come into the living room for a cocktail before you go.” His mom winked at Annie.
“Is Vicki ready?” His world-weary tone carried through the house along with the sound of his footfalls on the old oak boards.
“Not exactly.” Vicki crossed her arms and looked smug. She held a finger over her lips. Annie wished she could dive behind the sofa. Her heart rate increased as Sinclair’s movements grew closer. By the time he reached the door, her heart was pounding so hard she worried the whalebone stays in her bodice might burst and release her braless breasts just in time for his entrance.
“Come in, Sinclair.” She heard his mom from outside the room.
“Why’s everyone acting so strange?” His deep voice sent a ripple of anticipation—richly mingled with dread—right through her.
He rounded the corner and looked up, at her. Frozen to the spot and unable to think at all, let alone utter a word, she watched his reaction. Astonishment, sure. Disbelief. Her face heated as he took in her hair, her earrings, the subtle makeup Vicki had painstakingly applied. Then his gaze dropped lower, almost imperceptibly grazing her cleavage and the nipped-in waistline of the dress. Her breasts swelled against the snug neckline, responding to the desire that flashed in his eyes. Or was that alarm?
“Annie, you look stunning.” His compliment sounded cool and composed, as if he’d expected to see her standing there dressed for the party.
“Vicki isn’t well,” she rushed to explain. “And they didn’t think you’d go if you were alone, so they insisted that I…” She wanted to let him know this wasn’t her idea.
“Vicki’s loss is my gain.”
His expression was unreadable. She reminded herself it was simply a polite response, something he might say to a friend of his mother’s. No doubt he didn’t want to betray his horror to the others or they’d suspect there was some reason he felt uncomfortable going with her. Beyond the obvious reason that she was supposed to be waxing the furniture, not waltzing with the boss.
“It seemed such a shame to waste the invitation.” Katherine picked a speck of imaginary lint from his spotless tux. “And why shouldn’t Annie get to have some fun for a change? You will make sure she has a good time, won’t you?”
“Of course.” He didn’t take his eyes off Annie. “It would be my pleasure.”
There was an oddly flat tone to his voice.
I’m sorry. She tried to say it with her eyes. He must be appalled at the prospect of spending the evening with her. Maybe he thought she’d try to rekindle the flame of lust that had singed them both so badly.
“Why don’t we all have a gin and tonic?” Vicki moved toward the drinks cabinet.
“No, thanks.” Sinclair and Annie said it in unison. A moment of awkward silence turned into a nervous laugh. “We should get going,” said Sinclair. He probably wanted to get out of there and get this whole charade over with as quickly as possible.
Annie gathered her impressive skirts. Hopefully she wouldn’t trip over them and fall flat on her face. She headed for the side door, through the kitchen, but Katherine pulled open the formal front door they rarely used. “This way tonight. You look far too elegant to sneak out the side door.” She now had to negotiate the rather uneven brick steps, and an equally hazardous slate walkway, and was almost breaking a sweat by the time they reached the driveway. Sinclair’s black BMW gleamed golden in the low rays of sunlight sneaking through the tall hedges. She walked toward it until she realized there was a silver Bentley sitting a little farther up the drive.
/>
“We’re being driven to the event.” He spoke coolly. “Mom is always very cautious about drinking and driving.”
A uniformed driver emerged and held open one of the rear doors. Annie’s spirits sank when she realized they wouldn’t be alone even long enough for her to plead innocence in this whole caper. She managed to climb in, pulling her long skirt behind her and arranging it around her legs.
Sinclair entered on the other side and sat next to her. The rear seat was spacious enough to leave room for another person between them, but the space quickly filled with tension.
The driver climbed into his seat and started the engine, then started to speak with a heavy Brooklyn accent. “I’ll be waiting there for you tonight, so you can leave any time you want. Sounds like quite the party, from the talk at the depot. Everyone wants a limo tonight. We could have rented this one three times over.” Annie pictured people scrambling to rent fabulous limousines before the town ran dry of them. Who knew such problems existed?
Sinclair glanced sideways at her. Probably wondering why she was there instead of Vicki.
“Vicki complained of a headache since lunch.” She felt the need to explain in a way that wouldn’t reveal the whole situation to the rather chatty driver. “She seemed really keen for me to come.”
“She’s never had so much as a hangnail in all the years I’ve known her.” He met her gaze. Her breath hitched at the warmth in his dark eyes. “I suspect she has an ulterior motive.”
“I was wondering about that.” She fingered the beading at her waistline. “It was all her idea.”
“Doesn’t surprise me in the least.”
Annie hesitated. It was hard to be secretive and frank at the same time. But she did wonder if Sinclair had laughingly told Vicki about their…misadventure. “I didn’t say anything to her at all, about, you know.”
He frowned for a moment. “Of course you didn’t.” She waited for him to say that he’d also kept quiet. “She probably has her own agenda. Maybe she’s trying to avoid someone who’ll be there.”
Annie nodded. “Could be.” She couldn’t figure Vicki out at all, but if she’d teased her about liking Sinclair, she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d done the same to him.
Apparently he wasn’t going to reveal anything either way.
He looked breathtakingly handsome in his tux. The crisp, white shirt collar emphasized the hard, bronzed lines of his chin and cheekbones. She’d have loved to drink in the vision of him but had to make do with surreptitious glances.
She risked another sneak peak, enjoying the set of his broad shoulders against the luxurious leather seat of the car. “Your mom looks better every day.”
“Yes, thank God. She really does seem to be on the mend. The doctors said it will be months before she’s fully recovered, though. Her liver and kidneys shut down and her immune system almost gave up. She’s very lucky to be here. This whole thing with the cup is keeping her at home, too, which is good. Normally she’s traveling all over the world, which the doctors told her not to do until her immune system is up to speed. I’m sure that’s the only reason she’s not in Scotland storming the baronial halls of that particular Drummond.”
Annie laughed. “I can’t believe how much stuff is in that one attic. It could take a lifetime to go through it.” She glanced at the driver. Maybe it wasn’t wise to reveal their treasure trove to a total stranger.
“That’s good. It will keep Mom safely in Dog Harbor longer.” His wry smile sent a flash of warmth to her heart. He settled his broad hand on the soft seat and for a second she imagined it resting on her thigh, only inches away, hidden beneath the dress’s layer of silk.
“It’s downright strange how well that dress fits you. Almost like it was made for you.”
“Weird, huh? The original owner would have worn all kinds of undergarments to get it this shape. I just have a narrow waist.” She shrugged. “It seems wrong to wear something that’s really an antique. It must ruin the fabric. But Vicki kept saying that clothes are for wearing, not storing in boxes. And she is an antiques dealer so I suppose she knows what she’s talking about.” At least she wasn’t trying to steal them and sell them on eBay.
“I agree. And maybe it was made for you, if the unseen powers of the universe that my mother’s grown so fond of are really at work.” His dark gaze sent a shiver of strange emotion though her. Did those same mysterious forces throw them into each others’ arms? Maybe they were meant to be together and Vicki was a cleverly disguised fairy godmother who’d conjured her into this finery so she could go to the ball with her prince.
Which meant this Bentley might turn into a pumpkin at midnight.
“What are you laughing at?”
“I don’t know. Trying to dissolve the tension.” She snuck a glance at the driver, wondering if he was a rat transformed into a man by the wave of a magic wand. She didn’t want him to know she wasn’t supposed to be here. For all he knew, she was some heiress, out on a date with wealthy bachelor Sinclair Drummond.
How was he going to introduce her to people? This is Annie Sullivan, my housekeeper probably wouldn’t go over too well. This is my old friend Annie? Let me introduce you to the love of my life? Another stray giggle bubbled in her chest.
Being so close to him made her giddy. Her skirt poufed out until it was resting on the leg of his black pants, caressing his thigh. Her fingers longed to do the same. He looked so relaxed and at ease. Maybe he was happy to be here with her? Maybe he’d secretly orchestrated the whole thing, with Vicki as his accomplice, so he could take her to the ball as his date without alarming his still-weak mom?
One look at his somber face in profile, staring out the window, purged that thought from her mind. He’d probably rather be anywhere than here, with her. He hadn’t even responded to her comment about dissolving tension, perhaps preferring a sturdy barrier of angst between them to easy intimacy. She had to stay focused on getting through this evening with a minimum of humiliation and hurt, and that meant keeping her emotions firmly under wraps.
They arrived at the beachfront mansion in less than ten minutes, and the Bentley pulled into the circular driveway in a line of cars depositing their occupants in front of a large stone house. Artfully placed lighting lit up the night and sparkled off the elegant gowns and pearly smiles of the glamorous people around them. The driver helped Annie out of the car and she thanked him.
Sinclair rounded the car and took her arm in his. The increased closeness made her feel panicky. What if she couldn’t resist the urge to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him? Experience had already proven she could go completely mad in his presence.
“Don’t be nervous. They’re all just human under the crazy outfits.” Sinclair’s rough whisper in her ear startled her, then made her chuckle. How sweet of him to try to relax her.
“I may well have the craziest outfit here.” Her big, pale dress stood out amongst a lot of sleek dark gowns.
Sinclair stopped and looked at her for a moment as if contemplating whether this was true. More cars pulled in and guests swirled around them. “You’re the most stunning woman here, and you look unbelievably beautiful in that dress.”
The murmur of conversations and the purr of expensive engines faded into silence as his words took over her brain. Had he really said that, or had she imagined it? His dark eyes rested on hers for a second longer, stealing the last of her breath. For a second she thought she might fall down unconscious.
“Sinclair, darling!” Reality sucked her back into its jaws as a very tall blonde woman threw her arms around Sinclair. They bumped into Annie, almost knocking her to the ground. “And my husband was worried you wouldn’t come. I knew you’d grace us with your austere and magnificent presence.” She kissed him on both cheeks. Annie simply stared.
“And who is this damsel on your arm this evening?” The blonde peered at Annie with large, blue eyes.
“I’m pleased to be escorting the lovely Annie Sullivan.”
&nb
sp; “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Sullivan.” The hostess shook her hand firmly. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
Annie hesitated. She’d likely served this woman finger sandwiches or taken her coat for hanging. But she couldn’t tell. These very rich, emaciated blonde women all looked alike after a while. “Perhaps.”
“Do head around to the tent and enjoy some drinks. Henry’s madcap festivities will be starting soon but we need everyone a little tipsy first.”
“Happy anniversary, Jessica.” Sinclair smiled. Then he took Annie’s arm again and led her along a path lit with glowing lanterns toward the rear of the house. Strains of music floated on the air, mingling with the tinkle of polite laughter. “She’s an old friend of my mom’s,” Sinclair murmured, once they were out of earshot.
“Thanks for not introducing me as your housekeeper. Though I don’t know why that would be embarrassing, since it is my job after all.”
“You’re not here as my housekeeper. You’re here as my date.” He gave her a stern look. She wasn’t sure whether to take it seriously. Was this a date with the Annie who’d writhed on the spare bed with him, or the one who was under orders to pretend it had never happened? His arm linked with hers felt proprietary, like he was taking charge of the situation, which was fine with her. She never felt Sinclair would try to take advantage of her.
What a shame.
A waiter swept toward them with a tray of champagne glasses. Sinclair took one and handed it to her. The glass was cold against her hand, in sharp contrast to her hot skin. People swirled around them on the large terrace. Hanging lanterns illuminated the night enough for them to make each other out, but the garden beyond was cloaked in velvety darkness. The unknown. A band, tucked away somewhere, launched into a swingy jazz number that made the very air throb with anticipation.
She took the tiniest sip of her champagne, and the bubbles tickled her tongue. Sinclair took a manlier drink from his glass. Muted light played across his hard features. His eyes glittered, dark and unreadable, as they rested on her face.
The Cinderella Act Page 8