Ch 7: Even the devil cleans up nice
Aribella POV
I’m bored to tears staring at the ceiling when a knock at my door makes me sigh in relief. I rushed over, opening it up to find three women dressed in similar dresses as the maid at the Voss Ranch. Their long, off-white linen gowns were identical to one another, and shiny black boots peeked out from beneath the hem.
These must be the servants that Mael was speaking of sending my way.
“Mr. Whitehall has requested we prepare you for the gathering,” the woman in the middle spoke, while the one on the right held up a gown bag and the woman on the left shook a case that held what I assumed to be makeup products.
“Please, come in," I politely stepped to the side, allowing the women into my room.
The three women begin unloading their things. The dress bag is hung up on a rack in the bathroom, and the bath begins running. The scent of lavender fills my nostrils again, and I scrunch my nose. I’m more of a vanilla girl, but beggars can’t be choosy.
“After your bath, Darlene will do your hair and makeup and then Laura and myself will work to make sure that you look proper for this evening,” the woman who spoke originally explained, nodding off towards the bathroom.
I take a quick bath, unable to relax because my nerves won’t allow it.
I told myself that I’d avoid Mael, and here I am having three servants ready me to be his date to a major royal event.
Unease slithered down my spine as I slid beneath the surface of the bubbly warm water. Opening my eyes, I ignored the sting of the bubbles, and stared up at the ceiling.
In my gut, doubts begin piling up until I feel sick to my stomach. My intent is to stay alive, and jumping in the line of fire isn't exactly the right way to do that. But what choice did I have? If Mael was going to be in attendance tonight, so would Rhory, and Rhory is my ticket out of this mess.
"Up and out, dear," one of the women calls out, "It would do you well not to be late to a royal event."
Slowly emerging from the water, I washed away the grime from working in the stables this morning from my skin. I take the time to look over my new body, noticing lightly tanned lines where I must have worn shorts to do work. A few pale scars litter my legs as well as randomly placed freckles, but nothing that stands out. Beneath the water, the warmer tones in my hair catch the light, and I remind myself to look more closely in the sun at the strands next time. My feet are smaller than they were in my past life, and with my new shortened height, I fit comfortably in this tub fully stretched out. This body is more toned than my last, and I try to imagine Aribella's life before I stole it from her.
From what I've gathered, she saw life through rose-colored glasses. Peyton seems to be fond of the previous version of her, but more so the version that includes me. Her standing up for that boy wasn't something Aribella would have done, but it was something I did with very little thought. Peyton had said something along the lines of "us" when referring to himself, Aribella, and the servant. I took this as a sign that he saw himself on the same level as the boy.
She clearly worked hard for her parents, despite the obvious life she longed for. Something that would bring her a sense of peace and relaxation over long days in the sun.
I couldn't relate to her in that sense. I'd been trapped in a life that I didn't want, and stared at the ceiling more times than I could count. My mind was my only friend, and my biggest enemy, and yet.... It was all I had for so long.
Now that I've got a second chance, I want to live. I no longer feel inclined to just exist. I don't want to live in a constant state of hoping an opportunity will fall into my lap.
That's precisely why I'm forcing myself to go as Mael's date. I can't sit around and hope an opportunity falls into my lap. I'm going to seize that opportunity by its balls.
“Oh my, this skin won’t do,” the makeup artist chirps, and I want to snarl, but bite my tongue instead. Aribella has flawless skin compared to my freckled complexion as Charlotte.
Darlene slathers my face with a medicinal scented cream before starting on my makeup. Laura brushes out my damp hair, working with a towel to dry the strands until they’re damp and then begins rolling them with large foam rollers.
“The Duke has chosen a burgundy gown with a black lace overlay and sweetheart neckline,” Laura speaks timidly as she unravels the now-dried rollers from my hair.
The main woman, who hasn’t bothered to share her name, unzips the dress bag, dragging over the most stunning gown I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“The Duke has exquisite taste,” she stares at the gown with wide eyes, “How on earth were you able to snag him as a date?”
If only she knew the truth.
“I suppose I was in the right place at the right time,” I smiled sweetly, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. Was every woman around here immune to his disgusting nature?
“Neither the Duke nor the Grand Duke has ever taken a date to the annual gathering,” Laura whispered, “You will be the first.”
And now I’m sweating.
“No pressure, right?” I chuckled softly, feeling my heart flutter wildly in my chest.
“Oh, this won’t do,” the main woman mutters to herself as she zips up the back of the dress. “Suck it in, dear.”
I do this until I can no longer breathe freely, and the zipper seals me into the dress. Aribella has an hourglass figure, and this dress was meant to accentuate that, but my god, it was clear that Mael wanted to quite literally take her breath away.
“I’d be mindful of your eating habits this evening. Too much of anything and this dress will split in two,” Darlene takes a few pins, bringing the dress up enough to where it isn’t bunched at my feet.
“Mael has an eye for beauty. You and that dress are a sight to be seen,” she smiles behind me, and I take a good look at myself in the mirror.
I typically wouldn’t wear something so flashy, and definitely not something that pushes my boobs up to my collarbone, but I suppose this is typical fashion for the time.
Darlene brought out the bright green of my eyes with a warm brown tone of eyeshadow and soft, smudgy liner. My cheeks are a soft pink, as is the color painted on my lips. My long, chestnut hair is curled with fluffy, soft waves and a deep side part, allowing the dress to be the real star of the show.
Three harsh knocks sound at the door, “I’m here to bring Ms. Voss to the ballroom.”
Reo.
I guess Kaelar wasn’t interested in being my personal escort. Fine by me.
Darlene stopped me, smearing a Vaseline-like substance on my wrists and behind my ears before spraying me with perfume.
“Thank you, ladies,” I smiled, moving towards the door.
Reo’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before schooling his expression, “Ms. Voss,” he extends an elbow, and I loop my arm around his.
“Are you Mael’s personal guard?”
“I am,” he nods. “I am rather surprised you are his date this evening. How did that come about?”
Reo seems trustworthy, but until I find out where his loyalties lie, I refuse to give him more information than necessary, but his change in demeanor from the carriage ride this morning to now is refreshing.
“I’m on a mission,” I smile, glancing up at him.
His eyes crinkle, and I assume he’s smiling beneath the mask, “In that case, I hope your mission goes smoothly.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Soft classical music echoes through the hallways, and the sound of voices grows louder with every step.
My heart seems to think it’s a racehorse, and I’m struggling to calm my nerves.
Bodies move about a large ball-room painted in bright, warm tones. Gold accentuates just about every surface, and the stark white tablecloths stand out against the deeper shades around the room.
I spot Mael chatting leisurely with a few well-dressed men, and his eyes find me through the crowd. Reading his lips, I watched him bid farewell to the group, and head in my direction.
“Wish me luck,” I unloop my arm from Reo’s, heading to meet him halfway.
Even the devil cleans up nice.