a smile at Annie that made an entirely different kind of pain shoot through her. Why was Vicki trying so hard to humiliate her?
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.” Annie wished she could put her foot down. Surely attending a big, fancy party couldn’t possibly be described as part of a housekeeper’s duties. “I’m sure Sinclair would rather go alone.”
She knew that part was true. He wanted to pretend he’d never kissed her. Never made crazy, unexpected love to her and breathed hot moans in her ear. Bitter disappointment trickled through her—again.
“Nonsense. And you’ll enjoy it, Annie. It’ll be the party of the summer. They’re probably spending two million on it. Think of it as an experience, rather like an adventure vacation. Now, we need to find you a dress. I think I have a loose-fitting Zang Toi that’s a bit big for me …”
“We won’t need that.” Vicki put a proprietary arm around Annie, who shrank from her. “She can wear one of the dresses from the abandoned trousseau.”
Katherine looked doubtfully at Annie’s waist, which she instinctively sucked in. “I’m not sure those will fit.”
“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
