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

Thankfully, the buzz from the martinis lasted through the horrors of having to stand in my underwear in front of Pierce and a couple of wardrobe ladies while they measured every conceivable stretch of my skin.

They shoved a couple of dresses on me, but I don’t remember much about them except they were scratchy and uncomfortable. Pierce let me have a little nap on a ratty old armchair in one of the wardrobe rooms while various people came up and held bits of material against my cheek to see what looked good.

The buzz, unfortunately, was gone by the time he shook me awake, and frog-marched me, dizzy and a bit queasy, down the hall, up a flight of stairs, and into a plush carpeted room dark with heavy mahogany furniture, lightened by a lovely view of the Thames.

Before I could open my mouth to protest Pierce’s brutality of dragging me from a sound sleep, a balding man with dark red hair looked up from the massive desk I was pushed before. My stomach seemed to keep moving long after I stopped.

“Oh, there you are! Hello, Tessa, I’m Roger d’Aspry. Pierce has told me so much about you. I’m delighted that you’re joining our team—relieved actually, because we start filming tomorrow and what’s the story of a duke’s life without his duchess at his side?” Roger came around the desk while he was speaking, his voice clipped in a manner reminiscent of expensive schooling. He took my hand in both of his to simultaneously pat and shake it. He was about four inches shorter than me; not terribly unusual, as I am almost six feet tall. “I know you’ll have a grand time, just a grand time. You’re going to love everyone and the house! It’s glorious! Pierce tells me you’re quite the devotee of history, so you should have no trouble adapting to the lifestyle. You’ve read the rule book and introductory material?”

I blinked at him and swayed just the tiniest bit while I let his words trickle through the fogged mass that was presently acting as my brain. “Um. Some of it.”

“Good, good. We just need you to sign a few releases—merely a legality, I assure you—then I’m sure you’ll want to have a bit of rest before the evening’s fittings, the audition, and, of course, you’ll want to read up on the rest of the volunteers for the program.”

Fittings? Auditions? He wanted me for the part? He saw me and he still wanted me? Maybe his eyesight was bad. I held up my hand and waved it before his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Behind me, Pierce groaned. Roger frowned at me, then frowned at my fingers. “Three. Is there a reason you are asking me that?”

Oh, God, now I’d painted myself in a corner. If I said no, he’d think I was an idiot, the kind of lunatic who waved her fingers around and asked people to count them. If I said yes and explained that he couldn’t possibly want me to be the duchess, I’d have to explain why, and if I had to discuss my overflowing abundance of flesh with one more person, I’d scream. My brain was still feeling fuzzy from the martinis, but I figured the truth was probably the best bet. I’d rather be thought self-conscious than a boob. “Um . . . it’s just that . . . well . . .” I waved a hand up and down my torso.

“Honey, I’ve told you and told you that you’re just perfect for this role!” Pierce hurried forward and grabbed my hand. “She has this idiotic idea that she’s too fat for the part.”

“PIERCE!” I smacked him in the arm. How could he come right out and say the word with no creative euphemisms or polite skating around the issue? “The word fat is politically incorrect. I’m skinny-challenged, thank you.”

Roger eyed me up and down, from nose to toes, then back up to my head. “I don’t see a problem.”

I wanted to kiss him.

“Most of the aristocracy were pudgy. All that rich living, you know.”

The kiss shriveled up on my lips. “Pudgy?”

He gave me a quick grin. “Sorry. Skinny-challenged. Besides, you have your own hair. I would hate to go through the wig trauma again.” He shuddered delicately as he spoke.

I was hired because of my hair? Yes, it was long and fairly thick, but it also had a mind of its own and was an uninspiring plain old brown color. I toyed for a moment with the idea of being righteously indignant that it wasn’t for my more meaningful qualities that I was asked to fill the role, then realized just how stupid that would be. I was getting the job! I’d be out of debt at long last! I’d get to be a duchess for a month! Best of all, I’d get to have that handsome blue-eyed man for a pretend husband for a month! A whole month! My stomach did another somersault at the thought, an action that left me swallowing hard to keep things where they belonged.

“And speaking of that, you’ve met the wardrobe people, yes? Wonderful team we have here, all experts in their field, and very keen on historical accuracy. I’m sure you’ll be utterly delighted with the wardrobe they create for you, but if you have particular likes and dislikes, do tell them. Of course, you’re absolutely free to pick and choose what you wish to wear each day. More authentic that way, you understand.” Roger waved me toward a tall wine-colored leather armchair as he perched on the edge of his desk. I stumbled and half-fell into the chair. Pierce took the matching chair, sitting with an elegance and suavity that I felt far escaped my perspiring, rumpled, sleep-riddled, queasy slump. “Our goal with the Month in the Life project is absolute accuracy and authenticity in every facet of life. To that end, we’re asking each participant to not only live without items that were created after 1879, but to live by the societal precepts of the mid-Victorian era. Manners, values, etiquette, social interactions—all must conform to the standards the Victorians lived by. Are you willing to do that?”

I blinked a couple of times and carefully cleared my throat. “I’m tolerably familiar with that period, so I don’t imagine it will be a problem, although I’m not an expert by any means.”

“That’s why we included a copy of The Glory of Womanhood in the project material. If you have any questions about how you should deal with servants, which fork to use when, how to have a tea for your friends, when you should go visiting, that sort of thing, it’s all covered in the book. And just to get you started, we’ve made up a list of everyone’s duties, from the duke right down to the scullery girl. That’s in the packet, as well, and I urge you to become familiar with it, because as the mistress of the house it will be your duty to interact with the housekeeper to make sure the house is run smoothly. You are ultimately responsible for the servants and their well-being.”

I kept my eyes fixed on his left cheekbone and nodded slowly. If I looked anywhere else, the room seemed to dip and sway, taking my stomach with it.

“Now, regarding the filming—please, please ignore the presence of the cameramen and the sound people. They will do their best to be invisible—and, of course, you’ll have absolute privacy in the bedroom and loo—so I’m sure that after a short time you won’t even notice they’re there. We want you to act just as naturally around them as you would should you be alone, strictly keeping within the guidelines of a Victorian duchess, of course,” he laughed. “No turning your hand to a bit of dusting or putting a room to rights.”

I gave him a weak smile. Did he honestly think I cherished housework to the point that I’d want to do it on what amounted to a month long luxury vacation? “That won’t be a problem.”

“Good. You may, of course, bring any cherished mementoes—black-and-white photos and the like—but we ask that everyone stick strictly to period reading. Worston Old Hall has quite an extensive library, which we’ve supplemented with reproduction and original periodicals and newspapers, so you should have a variety of reading material to choose from. Along those lines, we ask that you not bring any paraphernalia that is not period.”