On Bended Knee

Chapter 11

Lucy managed not to drop the tablet, but it was a near thing. How could she have been so blind? She had just been congratulating herself on being able to read Frederick so easily, but somehow she'd missed this? She was an idiot. An idiot with a big, goofy smile on her face, but an idiot just the same.

"Thank you," said Lucy when she could speak again. "Miranda, thank you for showing this to me. I knew things were going well, but—" Lucy shook her head. "I am a grade-A fool. I didn't see it."

"You are most welcome, sweetie," said Miranda, wrapping Lucy in a motherly hug. "But that's still not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Lucy gaped at her. "There's more?"

"I don't want you to freak out, but when I said everyone on set knows, I wasn't exaggerating."

"Oh, no," Lucy groaned.

"This is not a bad thing," Miranda insisted. "It just means that word gets around. We're spending day after day with the same group of people, and when they're between tasks, they talk. Word is, Frederick is planning something tonight. I don't know what exactly, just that it's something fancy, and it's for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, you! And I talked to some of the girls from hair and wardrobe, and we all agreed that we want to play fairy godmother for you tonight. When we're done with you, Mr. Asherton won't know what hit him."

* * * * *

An hour and a half later, Lucy stood gaping at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her eyes looked enormous. She had a million eyelashes, all of which were perfectly curled, as was her hair.

Miranda had done something called 'contouring' to Lucy's face, which had her worried when she saw hard streaks of various shades of foundation painted across her face. But Miranda had worked some sort of magic with a blending sponge, and now Lucy's cheekbones were standing at attention, and her nose looked more proportional to her face. Her lips looked especially full and had been painted a glossy deep red.

The lipstick matched the shimmery satin dress that had appeared from nowhere. It had a low neckline and fitted like a dream, but through some sorcery of design, the cut was classy rather than trampy. Black heels, matching clutch, and some sparkly earrings completed the look.

Lucy emerged from the change-room and did a happy little twirl for her team of experts. She gave a little curtsy when they applauded.

"I can't thank you guys enough. I still don't believe that the person I'm seeing in the mirror is really me," Lucy gushed.

"We just polished you up a bit. It's definitely all still you, sweetie," Miranda promised. She glanced at the big clock on the wall. "Now, go! Cinderella can't be late for the ball after all this!"

Lucy agreed and hurried to her car.

* * * * *

Lucy knocked on the door of Frederick's hotel room at 9:32.

"Come in," called that deep British voice she so enjoyed.

Lucy's jaw dropped when she saw the inside of Frederick's room. The dated hunt camp decor had vanished. Instead, the room looked like it had been plucked from a chic penthouse in a nicer London neighborhood.

The wood-paneled walls had been covered with pale gray patterned wallpaper. Gone were the deer head and stuffed fish. In their place were two mirrors in chunky silver frames. The log bed-frame was still in place, but was nearly hidden by the thickest duvet Lucy had ever seen, and the bed was piled high with pillows in coordinating blue and gray patterns.