Page 58 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Yes, milady. I was properly trained by her ladyship’s—I mean the former Lady Faris’s original French maid, Eloise. She always intended returning to Paris but when both replacements from France did not suit, she trained me and Eliza from scratch in the hopes that one of us might do in her stead.”

“What happened to Eliza?”

Lottie’s expression soured. “She’s still with our old mistress now, so far as I know. Took her with her, her ladyship did. She preferred the way Eliza executed an Apollo’s knot.” Lottie sniffed. “I expect she’s living godlessly on the Continent now,” she continued disapprovingly. “Always had a flighty streak did Eliza Simpkin.”

“Oh, I see,” Emmie said, vaguely aware that an Apollo’s knot was a popular hairstyle. “Well, it turned out fortunately for me in any case,” she said placatingly.

Lottie’s expression brightened. “Yes, milady, thank you, milady,” she said, her quick, clever hands braiding a section of hair which she then wound about Emmie’s head like a riband, coaxing a series of drop curls to frame Emmie’s face, spraying them finely with water. “You could do with a pot of nice waxy hair pomade, milady,” she commented.

It was true that while Lottie worked, her mouth full of hairpins, she did hum rather tunelessly under her breath, however Emmie found she did not really mind it. Once the front of her hair was arranged nicely, Lottie did up the back in a professional-looking chignon.

“That looks very well indeed,” Emmie exclaimed as Lottie angled a mirror to show her the full effect.

“Some flowers might be nice for decoration, milady,” Lottie suggested tactfully, and Emmie realized her hair accessories were not up to the expected standard. “If you were agreeable to my doing your hair again, I could always bring some with me,” she offered.

“That would be lovely, Lottie, thank you.”

Once fully dressed, Emmie hurried down the corridor to find the sweeping staircase leading down to the hall. She had been tired the night before and the dim lighting had not shown just how high the painted ceilings were or how detailed the marble friezes that decorated the walls.

Without thinking, she found herself slowing to a more reverent pace, as though in church, and trying to make as little noise as possible as she crept down the steps. Rounding the final bend, she spotted Teddy, dressed quaintly in a frilly shirt and knee breeches, sitting on the third step from the bottom.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You took an age. Are you ready for your tour?”

“Yes indeed,” Emmie responded at once. She glanced about at the quantity of marble statues thronging the hall. “Where is your father?”

“He’s not down yet. Why are you whispering?” Teddy asked.

“Oh, sorry, I did not realize I was.” Emmie cleared her throat. “Why is your Cupid playing with snakes?” she asked, pointing to a nearby statue, hoping to distract him from her awkwardness.

“That’s not Cupid, that’s Baby Heracles,” Teddy answered promptly.

“I have heard of him,” Emmie admitted, “but the picture I have in my mind is of some bearded brute bulging with muscle, not an infant.”

“Yes, we have one of him like that in the long gallery, wrestling with the Nemean Lion.”

“He was much prettier as a baby. No wonder the snakes like him.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Teddy said doubtfully. “His stepmother sent them, you know, to destroy him in his crib.”

“Good gracious! Did she really?” Emmie peered closer at the statue’s serene expression. “I take it her wicked plan went awry. The child does not look remotely distressed.”

“No, because it was too late,” Teddy explained. “He had already gained godlike strength from drinking his stepmother’s milk. She was a great goddess and was tricked into nursing him at her breast when he was a newborn.”

Emmie blinked. “So, his stepmother…?”

“Was Hera, queen of the gods. Heracles was named in her honor. His name means ‘Glory of Hera.’”

“That’s rather sad,” Emmie remarked, looking at the chubby alabaster baby. “I suppose they named him that in order to placate her. Were they ever reconciled?”

“Oh yes, after he died.” Emmie’s confusion must have plainly shown for Teddy continued, “Only his mortal side died. His immortal side ascended to Olympus where he and Hera were reunited. In the end she let him marry one of her daughters, I forget her name,” he said airily.

“Hebe,” Jeremy supplied, arriving at the step above them.

“Oh yes, that was it,” Teddy said vaguely as Emmie’s eyes widened, taking in Jeremy’s appearance.

This must be what he wore when relaxing in the country. How silly, that she had somehow expected him always to wear elegant frock coats and trousers of the palest, most delicate shades. Today, he was dressed simply in a burgundy waistcoat and shirt with nankeen trousers.

Noticing her abstraction, he glanced down at his ensemble. “You approve I hope, Ballentine?” he asked with a lift of his brows.