by Shana Galen
Susanna nodded. “It is often a nuisance.”
A nuisance? Marlowe had spent her entire life owning no more than one dress at a time, and that one was replaced either when she outgrew it or it fell apart and could no longer be remade. She could not imagine owning three gowns at once, much less wearing all three in one day. She did not belong here, in this world where everyone used pretty words and lived like kings. Even if she were this Lady Elizabeth, what would her parents think of her? They would be horrified that she knew nothing of their rules. Surely they would not want a daughter like her. Better for them if she was dead.
And why had she allowed this girl to persuade her to even try to be Lady Elizabeth? It had been a pleasant dream, when she needed to think of something other than the cold, miserable conditions in the flash ken. Didn’t every girl secretly dream she was a princess who only need reclaim her rightful throne? Marlowe had so few dreams in her life. Did she really want to kill this one so completely and publicly?
Everyone would laugh at her. Look at that little beggar girl, thinking she is better than she is. Dane didn’t even think of her as a person. Would her parents be any different?
Marlowe backed up farther. “I changed my mind. This is not a good idea.”
“Of course it is.”
Before Marlowe could reach for the latch, Lady Susanna scampered over to her and grabbed her hand. She was fast for a gentry mort. “We already discussed it.”
“And I changed my mind.”
Lady Susanna squeezed her hand, and Marlowe stared down at it with surprise. It was such a simple, friendly gesture. In her world, those were few and hard to come by. This girl offered them so freely and easily. “Why have you changed your mind? What are you afraid of?”
Marlowe’s back straightened, and her chin shot up. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Good. Then let’s begin.” She drew Marlowe back into the room, and she went without much protest. Where else would she go? Back to the flash ken? Satin would beat her senseless for allowing herself to be abducted. She could stave off the punishment by giving him something of value in return: information about how to crack this house. If she led the better-racket and returned with her arms full of cargo, all might be forgiven.
But one look at Lady Susanna, and Marlowe did not want to give Satin any of the girl’s lovely things. Marlowe didn’t care about Lord Dane. He could go to the bloody devil. His brother and his shrew of a mother as well. She might not like them, but did they deserve to have their home violated? They had only been trying to help her in their selfish, misguided way.
No, she did not want to give these people to Satin, did not want to hurt them. And as she rather valued her own life, she did not know how she could go back to the flash ken otherwise.
And so she was stuck for the present.
Lady Susanna held out several frilly underthings and said, “Perhaps a bath first?”
“No!” Marlowe screeched. “Not another.”
“She looks clean enough, my lady,” one of the maids said.
Marlowe nodded vigorously. “I had a bath last night. I’m not due for another for months now.” Years, if she could help it.
Lady Susanna laughed as though Marlowe had made a jest. “We shall see about that. Very well, then, strip off those clothes, and let’s dress you in one of these.”
Marlowe looked at the two maids and the girl standing before her. “What? Strip off my clothes here? With all of you watching me?”
“Oh! You are modest. Very well.” She pushed the underthings into Marlowe’s hand and pointed toward a rectangular stand painted with flowers. “You may undress behind that screen. You won’t be able to lace the stays yourself, so Maggie will help you.”
Marlowe looked at the one Lady Susanna gestured to. She was a woman of perhaps thirty, with dark hair and plump cheeks. “There ain’t nothing you have I haven’t seen before, miss,” Maggie said. “But I imagine I can lace you with my eyes closed, if that’s what you want.”
Marlowe wanted to escape this prison where everyone wanted to throw one in water and stuff them in uncomfortable clothing. That was what she wanted. With a sigh, she went behind the screen and stripped out of her trousers and shirt.
“Put on the chemise first,” Lady Susanna said.
“The what?” Marlowe examined the garments.
“The shift,” someone, probably Maggie, said.
Marlowe pulled it over her head and then donned the petticoats. She’d never had such a full, lovely petticoat before. There were stockings and garters, but she had no idea how to dress in those. She’d leave them off. No one would see her legs anyway. Next came the stays, and she marveled at the fancy embroidery on the silk material. She had never seen anything so fancy. They were also longer than the stays she was used to. She’d always worn short stays, and these would reach all the way to her hips.
“Ready?” Maggie asked.
Marlowe sighed. “Yes.”
A moment later, the slavey appeared behind the screen. She didn’t spare Marlowe a glance, simply turned her and began to fuss with her clothing. Apparently, Marlowe hadn’t put the chemise or the petticoats on right, because Maggie yanked them all about, untying and retying them. She even removed the petticoat, informing Marlowe the stays should have been put on first. Marlowe felt as though she were a rope in a tug-of-war. Maggie had clearly been telling the truth when she said she was not interested in what Marlowe had underneath the clothing. She turned Marlowe toward the screen and began to lace the stays. At the first sharp tug, Marlowe inhaled with surprise, and Maggie said, “Good. That helps.”
The center busk immediately pressed into her flesh and made her stand taller. “I won’t be able to bend,” Marlowe complained.
“A lady doesn’t need to bend.”
Marlowe definitely did not want to be a lady, if that was the requirement. Maggie finished with the stays, turned Marlowe about, and took hold of her chest, which was now lifted and separated quite shockingly. “Let go of my bubbies!” Marlowe protested. Maggie ignored her, pushing and yanking until they were half out of the bloody stays. What was the point of the stays if she was only going to fall out of them?
Finally Marlowe slapped at the maid’s hands and moved away. She wanted out from behind that screen. “Not so quick,” Maggie said, tugging her back and helping her step into the petticoat. “And now stockings.”
Marlowe shook her head. “I couldn’t put them on if I wanted. I can’t possibly bend.”
She heard giggling from the other side of the screen, and Lady Susanna said, “In a quarter of an hour, you won’t even notice the busk.”
“I’ll do it,” Maggie said, reaching for Marlowe’s ankle. Marlowe kicked at her.
“No! What is the point? No one will know I am not wearing them.”
“I will know,” Maggie said. “Now, there are two ways to go about this—I do it, or you do it. But one way or another, these stockings go on your feet. Which will it be?”
“Oh, Marlowe,” Susanna said, “I recommend you allow Maggie to put them on.”
Marlowe rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She surrendered her foot, and Maggie yanked the stockings on, pulling them up her bare leg and tying the garters to hold them in place. Finally, the maid stood and pronounced her satisfactory. “I don’t have my dress on yet,” Marlowe said.
“Oh, do come and dress out here so we can see,” Susanna said. “Certainly you are decent enough now.”
“Fine.” Marlowe stepped out from behind the screen and moved toward the dressing table. Susanna, quick as ever, grabbed her hand and yanked her away.
“Not yet. I want you to be surprised. Oh! You look lovely already.”
Marlowe looked down at her half-exposed breasts. “I look like I might catch my death.”
Susanna shook her head. “There are many women who would kill for a bosom
like yours. Myself included.”
Marlowe looked at Susanna’s bubbies, which seemed perfectly fine to her, and shrugged. “To me, they’re an annoyance. I usually bind them. If I stick them out like this, it gives the cubs ideas.”
“And the cubs are your friends?”
“You might say that. Business associates, really.”
“Thieves,” Maggie hissed under her breath.
“Maggie!” Lady Susanna said, her tone chastising. She looked at Marlowe. “Well, I can certainly understand you hiding your charms from men such as that, but I assure you gentlemen are much different.”
Marlowe snorted, and Lady Susanna blinked at her. Marlowe stared at the girl. Was she really so naive? “Gentlemen are the worst of the lot. I see ’em coming into Seven Dials all the time, slumming it and looking for a bit of muslin.”
Lady Susanna’s eyes were wide. “Really?”
Maggie cleared her throat. “That’s not an appropriate topic for discussion.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true. What would you say to a small wager?”
Lady Susanna shifted, looking uneasy. “My mother does not like me to gamble.”
“Then don’t tell her. You can trust Maggie and—” She gestured to the other maid.
“Jane. Very well. What’s the wager?”
“The first thing your brother looks at when he sees me is my bubbies.”
Lady Susanna’s mouth dropped open, and her cheeks went bright red. “Dane? He wouldn’t.”
“He’s a man.”
“But he”—she seemed to stumble for the right words—“he is an earl, you understand? An eligible earl, and ladies throw themselves at him all the time. He doesn’t even blink an eye. I don’t think he notices.”
Marlowe could well believe ladies threw themselves at him, but she didn’t believe for an instant he didn’t notice. He had enough sense—oh, very well—enough honor not to appear to notice when in the company of his sister. “Then you accept the wager?” she asked.
Lady Susanna seemed to think for a moment. “I do. What are we wagering?”
Marlowe looked about the room for something she might want. Her gaze settled on the pile of books. “That book on the top,” she said, pointing to it.
“The sonnets of Shakespeare?”
Shakespeare, yes. She’d once seen a play of his. “Yes, that one.”
“Can you read?”
Marlowe put her hands on her hips. “Does it matter? You don’t think I’ll win, at any rate. Do we have a wager?”
“What will you give my lady if she wins?” Maggie asked.
Marlowe looked at Lady Susanna, who seemed to think for a long moment. Then she whispered, “I want an adventure.”
Her maid’s brows shot up, but Marlowe smiled. “An adventure it is,” she said. She and Lady Susanna would get along very well indeed.
Lady Susanna crossed to the bed and lifted a pink gown. “Let’s start with this one.”
“Let’s not.” Marlowe shook her head. Pink? She was not wearing pink.
Susanna frowned. “What is wrong with this one? You do not like it?”
“It’s pink,” Marlowe said. Susanna simply continued to stare at her. Marlowe spread her hands. “It’s pink!”
“I think you’d look very well in pink. Try it on, and if we don’t like it, we can try another.”
“Another?” Marlowe gaped. How many would she have to try on? She had to take control of this, or she’d be wearing ribbons and bows next. “I’m not wearing the pink.”
“What color would you like?”
“Black.”
Susanna’s eyebrows came together. “Are you in mourning?”
“I find black matches my mood.”
Susanna laughed, and Marlowe stared at the girl. Was it possible she was not completely right in the head?
“Oh, Marlowe. You do amuse me.”
Yes, the girl was definitely daft.
“How about this blue dress? And don’t argue. Maggie, can you help her?”
Before Marlowe had even opened her mouth to protest—the dress was pale blue and had ribbons—Maggie had dropped it over her head, and Marlowe couldn’t see a thing except muslin and lace. She was engulfed in the sweet smell of flowers, obviously the scent Susanna wore, before her head was free again. Then Maggie turned her and buttoned her up the back, pulling and yanking to make sure everything was in place.
Marlowe looked down. The gown was not so bad. The neckline was far more modest than any other dress she’d ever had. Still, she felt like one of those ladies on a ship, with her chest pushed out for all to see.
“Now we must do something about your hair,” Susanna said, and before Marlowe knew it, she was pushed into a chair, and her hair was yanked and tugged and brushed within an inch of its life.
“Ow!” she complained. Maggie the Cruel, as Marlowe had begin to think of her, did not blink an eye. She and Jane pulled Marlowe’s hair so tightly, Marlowe thought her face must have been contorted into a wide smile. Finally, the torture ended, and Marlowe was released. She rose, held a hand out to keep her tormentors at bay, and hissed, “Stay back! If you touch me again, you’ll be sorry. No one is worth this torture. I don’t care if it’s the bloody king.”
“Now watch your language, miss,” Maggie ordered.
Lady Susanna, eyes wide again, merely took her arm and led her to a long, oval mirror in the corner. Marlowe was about to shake the girl’s hand off when she caught a glimpse of the woman in the mirror. The woman’s mouth dropped open. “What did you do?” the woman asked. Marlowe touched her face, and the woman in the mirror followed suit. It was really her in the glass. It was really Marlowe.
But she was completely out of twig and didn’t look anything like Marlowe now. She looked like she could be a princess. She looked like a bloody gentry mort. If Gideon could see her now, he wouldn’t believe his eyes. He’d think she was a bubble, and probably try to steal her reticule. If she’d had a reticule.
“You don’t like it?” Lady Susanna asked.
Did she like it? She didn’t even recognize herself. Perhaps if she dressed like this all the time, Satin wouldn’t recognize her either. Of course, as disguises went, this one was rather painful, what with all the skirts and the piece of wood between her bubbies and the pins stuck in her hair. “It will do,” she said cautiously. But it was strange to look so…pretty and feminine. She was used to making every effort to look like an invisible boy. She would not be ignored dressed like this.
“You will certainly keep me modest,” Susanna said. “Come, let’s show Dane.”
Marlowe had been turning away from the mirror, but now she halted. “Your brother?”
Susanna’s brow arched. “I believe we had a wager.”
Marlowe looked down at her chest. It was covered, but still quite pronounced. She had no doubt she would win the wager, but she was not so certain she wanted to be seen looking like this. After all, she had ribbons all over. There was even a blue ribbon in her hair. “We could show him later. Surely, he has other business to attend to.”
“Afraid you won’t win?”
“No!” Marlowe shot back. “Afraid he’ll laugh at all of these silly fripperies I’m covered with,” she muttered. Marlowe tugged at the ribbon on the dress, and Susanna smiled.
“He will be impressed. Come on.” She grabbed Marlowe’s arm and pulled her.
***
Dane was in his library, attempting to read correspondence. Last week his land steward had written to him about a drainage issue at one of his properties in Shropshire, and Dane had not yet responded. He began to do so now, quill in hand, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate on matters of drainage. Not when that little vixen was closeted with his sister. What was taking them so long? Had the little urchin slit Susanna’s throat and escaped out the window?
Forgetting his letter, he rose and paced his library. It was too early for brandy, although if he’d been at his club—as he wanted to be—he would have already had at least two. But his mother would remark on it if he smelled like spirits before four. He didn’t generally care much about her rules. After all, he was the earl, but he had taxed her nerves with Marlowe’s appearance already, and he did not want to stretch them any thinner. He did not relish a lecture.
Dane lifted a paper concerning one of the bills in Parliament. He really should familiarize himself with it prior to the vote, but he’d read only a line before he thought he’d heard a sound. He went to the door, opened it, and peered out. Crawford blinked back at him from the entrance hall.
“Is my brother home yet?”
“No, my lord.”
“Any word?”
“No, my lord.”
Dane shut the door again and continued pacing. Perhaps just a sip of brandy… A knock sounded on the door, and he called, “Come in! Did a note from Brook come after all, Crawford?”
“It’s not Crawford,” Susanna said.
Dane turned. No, it was definitely not Crawford. His gaze swept over the dark-haired beauty who stood just behind Susanna. She was short and shapely with a wide mouth quirked in something of a smirk. His gaze returned to her eyes. There was something about her eyes that was familiar.
“I believe I won,” Susanna said quietly. “He’s looking at your eyes.”
“Bloody hell,” she cursed.
“Marlowe?” Dane said, his head snapping back. “How the devil did you do that?”
“She looks every inch the lady, doesn’t she?” Susanna said. Dane couldn’t argue. She did look every inch the lady, except…
“She’s not wearing any shoes.”
Susanna inhaled sharply. “I cannot believe I forgot! I will return in a moment.” And she was gone.
Marlowe shrugged. “She can’t even see my feet.” She pushed into the room. “What is this place called?”
“A library,” Dane said, watching her turn in a circle and take in the dark paneling, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and his massive oak desk. God, she was lovely. Perfectly, completely lovely. His mouth was dry just looking at her.