"The Corset Diaries" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacAlister Katie)

“What did you think of the servants?” I asked, and held up a photocopy of the cover for The Glory of Womanhood, a Victorian ladies’ book that had been included in the packet of material from the studio. “This book says, ‘Conduct toward servants should be always equal, never violent, never familiar. Speak to them always with civility, but keep them in their proper places.’ Did your family treat them in that way?”

She raised one carefully penciled eyebrow. “Naturally. One is kind to one’s servants, but one does not desire familiarity with them.”

Well, that put me right in my place. And with great timing, too, since Bob the pilot just announced we’re approaching Heathrow. Oh, lovely. My life is about to end. Fabulous.

Maybe I’ll fall and break my arm in the airport and have to be taken to a hospital for lengthy arm-repair surgery, hence making it impossible for me to meet Roger.

Maybe Pierce will forget to pick me up, leaving me with no way to get in contact with him or Roger.

Maybe the passport guys won’t let me into the country, and Roger won’t have the opportunity to reject me in person.

Maybe I should just get a grip.









Still Tuesday

August 31

9:14 P.M., England time

Room 722, Hyde Park Hilton




Well. I’m still here. More than a little groggy and jet-lagged, not to mention bemused, but here.

Pierce was at the airport waiting for me when I came through customs. He looked the same as he always did— tall, good-looking despite the beginnings of a cute little beer belly, confident, with a smile that always made me think he was laughing secretly at something only he found funny.

“Tessa! At last! I’ve waited forever for you! Mwah!” He planted a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek then held me at arm’s length to give me a brisk once-over. “You look like hell, honey, you really do.”

My shoulders slumped as I crossed a protective arm over my torso. “Thanks just oodles, Pierce. You sure do know how to make a girl feel good.”

He laughed and waved his hands toward the luggage I’d set down to hug him. “Evan, be a lamb and take those, will you? Now, you know what I meant by look like hell. Your hair! Tessa, love, I’ve told you time and time again—a little color is not a bad thing! No one likes that dull shade of brown. A nice magenta cellophane, that’s what you need.”

“Auburn, definitely auburn,” a slim young man with copious piercings said as he grabbed my two bags. “Auburn is much warmer. It would go with her skin tone better than magenta.”

The two men eyed me for a minute, their heads tipped to the side just like they were symbiotic twins, then Pierce shook his head, tsked, and grabbed my arm to steer me toward the car park. “It’s not important, honey. We can fix your hair up later, after the show is over. Now, you’ve read the rule book, yes?”

“No. Just some of it.”

“Excellent,” he said, obviously not paying the slightest bit of attention to me as he pushed me through the doors toward a dark tunnel leading to the parking. “Let’s see, it’s two now, and you have a fitting at four. . . . Yes, we have time for lunch. Evan?”