To Disappear (17 page)

She let her dress fall to the floor, and Preston helped her put on silk stockings, securing them with garters that squeezed snugly to her thighs. Then he bade her turn around and slipped a heavily boned, silk corset around her torso, and Lydia winced when he began tightening the laces, cinching her firmly at the waist and ribcage.

‘Preston, not so tight,’ she begged.

‘Darling, the dress won’t fit properly if it’s not tight enough. It was meant to force women to retain an erect posture. You’ll get used to it in a few minutes. It is supposed to be worn over a shift, but we’ll forgo that for this evening.’

After pulling the laces tighter he helped her on with the petticoat, panniers, another petticoat, and then the dress, all of which weighed her down like a heavy cloud. She stared at herself in the mirror, stunned by how the layers of clothing had altered her appearance. Preston moved around her, fastening the back of the gown and the richly decorated stomacher to the corset and bodice. He then slipped his fingers into the bodice, adjusting her breasts so that their upper slopes bloomed soft and ripe from the neckline.

Lydia grimaced, thinking that if the bodice weren’t edged with lace her nipples would even be visible. ‘Is that really necessary?’ she asked.

‘It’s authentic,’ Preston replied. ‘The corset of the time pushed breasts into a position called “rising moons”.’ He smiled and gave those lovely parts of her anatomy under discussion a lurid squeeze. ‘Most appropriate, don’t you think?’

‘If you say so,’ Lydia said sulkily.

‘I was thinking of giving you one of those powdered wigs, but you have lovely hair as it is,’ he went on, stroking her lustrous locks. ‘I’d like you to put it up, though. And there’s a box of cosmetics for you to use.’ He patted her bottom. ‘I want the rest of you to match your costume, do you understand?’

Lydia nodded, and sat down at the dressing table and began arranging her hair into a French twist. Both Kruin and Preston left her alone then, and she spent the next couple of hours alternately pacing the floor and adjusting her costume. She wished she could loosen the corset laces, which were making it difficult to breathe, but by the time she had finished yet another series of embellishments, she heard several unfamiliar voices coming from the verandah.

Nerves clenched in her stomach again, but she gave herself a final glance in the mirror, rather pleased with her reflection.

The dress flowed over her body like the plumage of some exotic bird, with two long pleats in the back draping behind her in a kind of train. Her features were strikingly accentuated by the artful application of make-up. She was not even inclined to pull the bodice up to hide her full cleavage, which seemed entirely appropriate for the costume. Then she turned to pick up the feathered mask just as Gabriel entered the room.

Lydia’s breath stopped somewhere in her chest. He was wearing a pirate’s costume with tight black trousers, a billowy white shirt and black boots that all seemed to magnify his authority and deplete his innate gentleness, and she was momentarily unnerved until he smiled at her.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ she blushed. ‘So do you.’

Gabriel took the mask from her hands and placed it over her eyes, tying the ribbons behind her head. ‘I don’t agree with Preston about many things, but he did choose the right costume for you, that’s for sure.’

‘I thought he’d come up with something far more provocative,’ Lydia admitted, ‘and that would have made this evening all the more difficult.’ She gave him a hesitant look. ‘I wanted to thank you for what you did; I mean, telling Preston I wanted to sleep alone in my own room.’

‘Yes, well, I understand that there are limits to everything,’ he said with simple modesty. ‘And everyone.’

Gabriel fastened on a black mask before taking Lydia’s hand and leading her out of the room, and her hand tightened in his when the voices downstairs grew louder.

‘How many people are here?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Forty or so.’

To Lydia’s eternal gratitude, Gabriel kept hold of her hand as they went downstairs, but then she had to let go of him in order to hold up the multiple folds of her petticoats and skirt. She walked with care, unaccustomed to the amount of material and the movement of the panniers.

Strings of Chinese lanterns had been strung up outside, lending a colorful glow to the gardens, and reddish light from the sunset streamed through the windows. Dozens of vases filled with fresh flowers had been placed throughout the house, and music drifted from a six-piece orchestra at one end of the ballroom. The French doors of the drawing room had been opened, allowing for a constant flow of people in and out.

Guests milled about drinking champagne and eating hors d’oeuvres as they gaily chatted and laughed. Their costumes were elaborate and exotic, ranging from a young woman dressed as Cleopatra to a man wearing a Roman emperor costume. There was a fairy princess, a Japanese samurai, a medieval monk, and a sexy cat.

All the guests wore eye-masks that concealed their true identity. Voices and peels of laughter floated through the rooms, filling the air with happy noise. It was a very strange contrast to the silence with which Lydia had become so comfortable.

And her anxiety abated somewhat when Gabriel began introducing her to the guests. They were all polite enough, but didn’t question her presence in the house or her relationship to the three men. They complimented her costume, requested that she dance with them later, and suggested that she try certain hors d’oeuvres.

Gabriel brought her a glass of wine just as Preston appeared dressed as a French nobleman from the revolutionary period. He smiled and stroked Lydia’s cheek.

‘Lovely girl,’ he murmured. ‘I thought it would be amusing if we were paired in costume. Save a dance for me.’

Lydia nodded, but stayed close to Gabriel as they mingled with more guests. Her corset continued to feel uncomfortably tight, her body weighted with the heaviness of her costume. After having spent weeks in light cotton dresses, or nothing at all, it was decidedly peculiar to feel so constricted.

‘You must be Lydia.’ The petite young woman dressed as Cleopatra stopped next to her. She wore a black wig with a serpent-shaped tiara, and a gold lamé top that displayed a deep and shadowy cleavage. Her long legs were visible beneath a gauzy skirt, her trim waist accentuated by a braided gold chain. ‘I’m Helen, one of Gabriel’s friends,’ she introduced herself.

Lydia said hello, instantly sensing she was laying some sort of claim on Gabriel.

‘I haven’t seen you at any of the other parties,’ Helen continued.

‘This is Lydia’s first time here,’ Gabriel interjected smoothly, placing a hand on Lydia’s back. ‘But you’ll be seeing much more of her, I’m sure.’

‘Will I?’ Helen smiled at Lydia. ‘What a treat that will be. How did you come to meet Gabriel?’

‘Through Preston,’ Lydia answered truthfully, and something flared in Helen’s eyes behind her gold mask.

‘Ah, and how long have you known Preston?’

‘Long enough,’ Lydia answered, intentionally conservative with the information she disclosed.

‘I see.’ Helen smiled at Lydia’s evasive response, and turned her attention to Gabriel. ‘I’d love to dance with you tonight,’ she purred at him.

‘And I’d be delighted.’

‘Good. Come and find me when you’re ready.’ Helen drifted off towards the gardens, reaching out to pluck a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as Lydia turned to Gabriel to ask him more about her, but he had already started a new conversation with another woman.

With a shrug, Lydia sipped her wine and continued people watching. Kruin was standing near the French doors, looking extremely impressive as a gladiator. The two women with him appeared entirely captivated by his dominating presence.

‘Well, aren’t you pretty?’ someone said, and Lydia found a corpulent, older man was standing beside her. He wore a Victorian-style suit, with an elaborate silk cravat. His white hair was thinning, and his blue eyes were watery behind his mask.

Lydia smiled politely and turned back to Gabriel, only to find he had disappeared into the throng, and she felt momentarily bereft, before reminding herself that she couldn’t expect him to remain by her side all evening. And she was certainly capable of spending a few hours among strangers, even if it was in such a bizarre context.

‘I’m Wallace,’ the man announced, his eyes drifting to her breasts. ‘I know you’re Lydia. You look absolutely exquisite in that dress.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Dance with me, would you?’

Before Lydia could protest, Wallace grasped her hand and pulled her towards the dance floor. Lydia caught sight of Preston near the door, and he gave her an approving smile as the elderly gentleman guided her into a waltz. Although it was difficult to move in her sweeping skirts, she had always enjoyed dancing and didn’t mind several turns around the dance floor with him.

However, it wasn’t long before her enjoyment vanished, for he kept pushing his round stomach against her and holding her too closely for comfort, which annoyed her despite the fact that her costume provided a barrier between them.

‘Maybe later we can enjoy another type of entertainment, hmm?’ Wallace asked suggestively.

Lydia grimaced. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘And please don’t hold me so tightly.’

His face creased into a frown. ‘Preston told me you were attractive, but not very friendly. I didn’t believe him.’

‘Well, he was right, wasn’t he?’ Lydia said tersely, straining to pull away from him. ‘I really don’t want to be held with such familiarity, thank you.’ She was thinking he was about to lose his temper with her, and was relieved when another man requested a dance with her, and then Preston appeared on the floor.

‘You seem to be doing quite well, despite your earlier protests,’ he said as he swept her into a minuet. ‘You’re enjoying yourself?’

Lydia nodded, even though her costume was becoming increasingly warm and uncomfortable. She was beginning to perspire, and the exertion of dancing seemed to have tightened the constriction of her corset. Her feet, squeezed into dainty heeled shoes with buckles, were also beginning to hurt.

As she looked at Preston’s amused expression, she realized that he had chosen the
robe à la Française
for this very reason. He knew quite well that she had become very accustomed to loose dresses, to feeling unencumbered, so binding her into a corset, stockings, petticoats and heavy silk only served to enhance the sensation of tightness and cause her to long for her unrestricting clothing.

‘Interesting, isn’t it?’ Preston asked conversationally, guiding her adroitly around the other dancing couples. ‘How different clothes can make you exceedingly aware of your body?’

Lydia’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s what you wanted to do? Make me aware of my body?’

‘It worked, didn’t it?’

Lydia couldn’t help laughing. ‘Preston, what makes you think that in the weeks I’ve been here, I’ve ever not been aware of my body? Everything I do, everything I wear makes me conscious of myself.’

‘I know. That is precisely my intention.’ He smiled. ‘One of them, anyway.’

He pulled her closer, and although Lydia couldn’t feel it through her skirts, she knew quite well that he was heavily erect. An entirely unexpected surge of arousal gripped her at the notion that they were in the middle of a crowded dance floor and he was pushing his erection against her.

‘You do dance well, Lydia,’ he murmured, his breath wafting against her forehead. ‘We’ll have to do this more often, don’t you think?’

He shook his head as another man approached to cut in, then guided Lydia into another waltz. The room began to feel stuffy from the body heat and movements of so many people. A trickle of sweat ran down Lydia’s temple, and she shivered when Preston’s tongue flicked out to capture the salty droplet.

He placed a hand on her back, tugging her firmly to him as he kissed her. His breath was sweet with champagne, his mouth hot as he urged her lips apart. As his tongue pushed deep into her mouth his fingers moved to the neckline of her dress.

Lydia’s gasp of shock was lost in the depths of his mouth as he pulled the material down to expose her breast. A rush of embarrassment washed through her. Preston murmured something in his throat as he manipulated her nipple to hardness, twisting it between his fingers. Lydia’s body tightened with arousal as sensations swam through her blood to her loins. Preston pulled down the material further, revealing her other breast.

Lydia closed her eyes, fighting the urge to protest, fighting her growing arousal. Preston cupped the exposed flesh in both hands, kissing her deeply once again, and before she could assimilate exactly what he was intending he abruptly turned and walked away from her.

Lydia stared after him in shock for a moment, before realizing she was standing in the middle of the dance floor, fully clothed with her breasts indecently revealed.

With a shudder she tugged the material back up to cover herself, but not before she saw Wallace staring at her with lust-filled eyes. Reddening, she hurried away and outside to the gardens, the fresh air brushing against her hot skin, cooling her by degrees.

She sat on a wrought-iron bench and took several deep breaths. She should have known that Preston would not hesitate to display his authority over her, even amidst a crowded dance floor. She pressed her hands against her cheeks as she gradually calmed down. The best thing to do for the remainder of the evening would be to avoid Preston as much as possible. That shouldn’t be difficult to achieve, considering the number of people milling about.