A Rogue of My Own

by Johanna Lindsey

  Flora was staring at the wardrobes, too. “Imagine that, and a good thing, too. I assumed that you’d have a separate dressing room, even if you had to share it. I never imagined your room here would be a dressing room. And of course there would have to be this many wardrobes for two ladies, wouldn’t there? Your fancy gowns will take up at least one wall of these. Half of them better be empty…”

  The warning note ended with a task as Flora opened the nearest wardrobe and found it full. She moved down several feet before opening another and found it full, too. So Lady Elizabeth had claimed that wall, obviously. Flora moved to the wall with the blocked windows, but the first wardrobe she opened there was also full, and the next. She finally found one that was only half-full, and the last two were empty. She also checked the two wardrobe filling up half of a third wall. Only one of those was empty, too.

  Flora started to laugh. “D’you get the feeling Lady Elizabeth wasn’t expecting to share this room?”

  “It would appear so,” Rebecca agreed.

  “Well, the lady has too many clothes, there’s no doubt of that. But she’s going to have to get rid of some of them, or end up with wrinkled gowns, because you’re claiming half of these, Becky my girl, and I’m going to see to that right now.”

  Flora got to work moving dresses around. Rebecca helped her. The room had no bureaus either, not that there was any space for them, but at least the bottom of each wardrobe had a large drawer where she could store clothes that didn’t need to be hung up.

  They hadn’t had to stuff Elizabeth’s clothes into her share of the wardrobes—too much. She’d actually been using one whole wardrobe for just two ball gowns, and another for what looked like an assortment of costumes.

  “There now,” Flora said, satisfied with the new arrangement. “We should be able to make do with just this one wall, so the lady can have the extra two wardrobes, but no more’n that. You’re not getting wrinkled just because she brought too many clothes to court. And you know,” Flora added, staring at the wall of empty wardrobes waiting to be filled with Rebecca’s clothes, “there’s no reason for you not to have a little light. These wardrobes aren’t ideally situated. Why block both windows when it isn’t necessary. They can be moved a little both ways so you can squeeze in there to open a window if necessary. I’ll borrow a strong shoulder when your trunks arrive.”

  Flora did just that, getting at least half of one window unblocked. The two men who carried in the first of Rebecca’s four trunks didn’t mind helping at all, once Flora smiled at them, and a dirty sheer, white curtain that had probably been hidden for months or longer was revealed. Flora promised to get it cleaned tomorrow.

  The maid left soon after that to get her own flat in order, chuckling on her way out the door, “My rooms are bigger than yours,” which left Rebecca smiling.

  Her humor didn’t last though. She was overwhelmed by how alone she was going to be here at court.

  She’d been tutored at home, so she’d never been separated from her mother before. Not a day of her life had gone by without her mother being nearby. For that matter, Flora had been within shouting distance, too. But this court appointment was definitely a cutting of the apron strings, and it was happening much sooner than Rebecca had expected, and without her having a husband to rely on.

  Yes, there would be endless opportunities to socialize and meet interesting people, and, yes, she’d probably meet her future husband here. But deep down, Rebecca would have preferred a normal come-out during a normal Season, with her mother by her side. She just hadn’t been able to spoil her mother’s elation by telling her that. Yet they weren’t just mother and daughter. They were actually friends. She should have told her….

  Chapter Three

  NOTHING WAS SCHEDULED FOR the remainder of the day, which was why Flora had left after unpacking the trunks. For Rebecca, it was time to relax, get settled in, and recover from an exhausting week. She had been assigned to the Duchess of Kent, Queen Victoria’s mother, but the duchess wasn’t even in residence today and wasn’t expected back until tomorrow.

  Rebecca stretched out on the bed. As she lay there, she thought about the queen. She was in residence, but Rebecca might never meet her. After all, not everyone who lived in the palace was introduced to the queen. Or she might meet her and they could become great friends. Anything was possible when you lived in the palace, Rebecca thought as she dozed off.

  “What did you do?” a shrill voice asked. “Why did you move those wardrobes? I sleep late. You will, too. We don’t need daylight waking us earlier than necessary.”

  What a rude awakening from her brief nap! Rebecca blinked her eyes open to see the young woman who had entered the room and apparently lit one of the lamps next to the bed before she started her tirade. Short and plump, she was pushing at the seams of her orange day dress. She had dark golden hair tightly coiffured except for a few ringlets about her cherub cheeks. Someone should tell her that orange was not her color, Rebecca thought. It made her look sallow. She might have been pretty if she didn’t have such a snarling expression.

  Green eyes were glaring at the wall where half of a window was exposed. The sun had set while Rebecca had napped. No light was currently coming from that direction.

  Still half-asleep, Rebecca thoughtlessly replied, “That’s what curtains are for.”

  “Curtains, no,” the lady disagreed in the same sharp tone. “Thick drapes possibly, but we can’t reach the bloody pulls for drapes, can we? If we had some, which we don’t.”

  Rebecca was quickly waking up. The lady really was angry and not even trying to hide it. About something this trivial?

  Rebecca sat up and frowned at the window that was causing such offense. This was not a good start if this was Lady Elizabeth, and she had no doubt that it was.

  “I could tack a petticoat over the window before retiring and remove it after you awake in the morning?” she offered. “I’m sorry, but daylight has never woken me so I don’t think of it as a nuisance. Lighting lamps in this room when daylight can stream in seems rather silly.”

  She probably shouldn’t have added that, because the young woman turned away from the wardrobes and glared at her. “Then you’ve never slept in a room with windows that face the sunrise, have you?”

  Rebecca flinched inwardly. “No, I can’t say that I have, and you’ve definitely made your point. I will be sure to rectify the problem.”

  When Rebecca stood up, she towered over the shorter girl. Like her mother, she was rather tall at five feet nine inches. She took after her mother in most things, actually. Both of them were slim yet curved nicely where they ought to be. Both were blond, though she might have gotten the golden shade of her hair from her father, since Lilly was a much lighter ash blond. She had her mother’s blue eyes, too, though Rebecca’s were a darker shade of blue. But they both had high cheekbones, a patrician nose, and a gently curved, firm chin, all of which Rebecca was grateful for, since Lilly was considered quite a beautiful woman.

  Rebecca smiled, making an effort at a new start. “Lady Elizabeth, I presume?”

  “Yes, and you are—?”

  The young woman’s tone was still stiff and somewhat imperious. Rebecca found it hard to believe that Elizabeth hadn’t been informed who her new roommate would be.

  “Lady Rebecca Anne Victoria Marshall.”

  She almost blushed. She rarely mentioned her middle names when she met people. Her family and friends merely called her Becky, though her mother was known to call her Becky Anne when she was delivering a scolding. Rebecca was sure her parents simply hadn’t been able to make up their minds about her name, which is why she’d ended up with so many. But she had no idea why she’d just given them all to her roommate. Possibly because she already suspected they were not going to be friends. Which was too bad. They were going to be sharing a bed, for goodness’ sake. They needed at least to be cordial.

  “Named after the queen, were you? How droll,” Elizabeth remarked before she m
arched over to one of her wardrobes and yanked open the door.

  Perversely, Rebecca was delighted that it was now her wardrobe and said, “No, actually, she wasn’t the queen at the time nor even in a close running when I was born. You, however, share your name with many queens. Do you find that droll, too?”

  Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have touched my belongings. Don’t do it again.”

  “You weren’t here—”

  “The arrangement was perfect as it was.”

  Rebecca choked back a laugh at that petulant reply. “No, I beg to differ, it wasn’t even close to equal. It still isn’t. We left you the extra two wardrobes.”

  Elizabeth apparently wasn’t grateful for the boon. She didn’t even acknowledge it and instead inquired, “We?”

  “My maid and I.”

  “Your maid got a room here?” Elizabeth swung back around with a gasp. “How did you manage that?”

  “I didn’t, and, no, she didn’t. We—”

  “Ah, you have a town house,” Elizabeth cut in. “My family doesn’t have one, so my maid had to stay at home. But if you have a house in London, why don’t you use it instead of crowding me in this small room?”

  If Rebecca had had any doubts that Elizabeth resented her presence, they were now gone. The young woman couldn’t have stated more clearly that she didn’t like having a roommate. Rebecca could have been embarrassed by it. A girl with less mettle might have been. But she wasn’t for a good reason, which John Keets, bless him, had given her.

  “Even if this room hadn’t been assigned to me, which makes it half mine, it was chosen for me at the queen’s suggestion. I don’t think I’d care to insult the queen by requesting a different room, but if you find the arrangement so deplorable, perhaps you should make that request for yourself.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Had she really thought that she could cow Rebecca into leaving or apologizing for the situation, just because Elizabeth had moved in first?

  “But as I was going to say before you interrupted,” Rebecca continued, “no, my family doesn’t own a London house, but we found a flat nearby for my maid, so she can come to the palace daily to attend to her usual duties.”

  “How nice for you,” Elizabeth said in a pouting tone. “Not everyone can afford such frivolous luxuries. Where is your maid now?”

  Rebecca was blushing a little and she didn’t know why. Of course not all noble families were wealthy. That hers was wealthy was certainly no cause for embarrassment.

  Fortunately, Elizabeth had moved over to the single vanity they would be sharing, so she didn’t notice the blush. She pulled out the velvet-cushioned stool that had been shoved underneath the lace-edged table and sat down to check her coiffure.

  To Elizabeth’s back, Rebecca said, “There was no reason for Flora to stay, since there is nothing on my agenda today for which I would require her assistance.”

  “Not everything at the palace happens with a great deal of warning. You will need to adjust accordingly on occasion, if you intend to be well prepared for any happenstance.”

  That actually sounded like good advice, Rebecca realized, she just couldn’t imagine why the resentful girl would want to give her good advice.

  “Perhaps you can make amends for the changes you made to my room—without permission—by having your maid do my hair. I’ve been using Lady Jane’s maid, but she’s rooming on the other side of the palace.”

  Rebecca should have known Elizabeth would have an ulterior motive for offering her advice.

  “I doubt Flora will be agreeable to the extra work,” Rebecca replied.

  But Elizabeth didn’t let it go at that. “What has she to say about it? She works for you, she does what you tell her.”

  “Actually, she works for my family. Maybe you would like to take this up with my mother?”

  That brought a sour expression to Elizabeth’s face. “Never mind, I’ll manage as I usually do.”

  Rebecca shook her head. If Elizabeth had made a little effort to be friendly to her, Rebecca would have left the matter to Flora. She would even have slipped the maid some extra coins for her trouble.

  Before she forgot about it and heard more strident complaints from her roommate in the morning, Rebecca dug out her thickest petticoat and squeezed between the wardrobes to tuck it over the old curtain.

  “Did you bring a costume?” Elizabeth asked. “Drina has declared a masque for tonight.”

  “Drina?”

  “The queen, of course.”

  Rebecca could be forgiven for her mistake because only members of the royal family called Queen Victoria by her childhood nickname. Surely she hadn’t been put in a room with a member of the royal family and had unknowingly been treating one of them less than deferentially.

  For the first time in her life she wished that her mother had raised her more traditionally instead of in the relaxed manner that she did. If her father hadn’t died when she’d been so young, her upbringing would probably have been more in line with that of other young gentlewomen of her day.

  Virtuous, innocent, yes, indeed, she was barely eighteen and had never been kissed. Adept at playing at least one instrument and singing—yes, she could sing, but she was simply all thumbs when it came to musical instruments and she’d tried four different ones before Lilly had thrown them all out. She should know a smattering of a foreign language or two, and she was indeed fluent in French. Dutiful, yes, she was a dutiful daughter and she could probably be a dutiful wife. At least, she would try. Too scatterbrained to be able to form an intelligent opinion, no, she was a complete failure there.

  Lilly had confided, “We’re just supposed to keep our intelligence, if we have any, mind you, to ourselves. And you’ve been warned, m’dear. If you have to pretend to be stupid, then you must do so. Unfortunately, it’s what the average nobleman expects of his wife, but maybe you will be lucky enough to marry a man who is not average. Maybe your husband will enjoy having an intelligent conversation with you that doesn’t revolve around servants and the household, which is all most husbands expect their wives to be knowledgeable about. But if you aren’t that lucky, well, you’re smart enough to be stupid!”

  Of course, if Lilly had raised her in the strictly traditional manner, she would probably have fled in tears from Elizabeth’s abrasiveness. But life with her mother had given her the tenacity to stand up for herself. Life with her mother had taught her that there was more to being a woman than what men expected. Life with Lilly hadn’t ruined her, it had prepared her for anything—except insulting a member of the royal family.

  All color drained from her face with that thought. “You are related to the queen?”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” Elizabeth said in a smug little tone.

  Rebecca understood now that Elizabeth was merely making sure that Rebecca realized that she knew much more about the court than Rebecca did. The alarm she’d caused Rebecca had merely been an added bonus for her.

  Relieved that she hadn’t insulted royalty, but annoyed with Elizabeth, Rebecca said stiffly, “I wasn’t informed about any masque.”

  “You weren’t here to be informed, were you?”

  That was true enough, but surely she wasn’t expected to attend without being invited. Elizabeth apparently thought otherwise.

  “It can be hoped you brought more than one costume with you, and items to improvise others. The queen enjoys all sorts of entertainments, but she truly loves costume balls, and even if she refers to such an event as a masque, you can be sure you need to attend in full costume. She is young, after all, not too many years older than you and I. Why wouldn’t she be fond of the same things we are?”

  Rebecca felt herself blush again. A costume, the one thing she and her mother had overlooked for her wardrobe. She didn’t even have a domino mask for a half-costume.

  Elizabeth guessed as much. “Well, that’s a shame. Off to quite a bad start, aren’t you?”

&nbs
p; Was that a bit of relish Rebecca detected in Elizabeth’s tone? Probably, yet the girl continued, “I’d loan you one of mine”—she paused for a long glance up and down Rebecca’s tall, slim frame—“but they obviously wouldn’t fit.”

  “I will simply have to be excused—”

  “Not unless you’re ill, which you aren’t. We’re expected to attend all of the entertainments, to fill out the court, especially since the foreign dignitaries who are favored with invitations need ladies to dance and converse with. It’s all in the interest of the monarchy putting on a good show.”

  Lilly had warned her about that. It’s why court could be considered the come-out to top all come-outs. She would meet some of the most eligible bachelors in the world and, in return, be part of the pomp and circumstance designed to impress those same dignitaries. She would have to let her mother know. Lilly could arrange to have some costumes sent to her by the seamstresses at home, who already had her measurements, but that still wouldn’t take care of tonight. But how could this count against her when she simply hadn’t known?

  “I believe I am feeling ill—”

  “Be quiet and let me think,” Elizabeth said. “The other ladies who might have extra costumes you could borrow are like me, too short to accommodate your height. What did you do, take after your father?”

  “No, my mother.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t listening. “Let me see if I have anything that might be useful,” she said, and went straight to one of her wardrobes. After a moment of rummaging around in it, she swung around holding a tricornered hat of the sort favored several centuries ago. She was even smiling. What an amazing difference it made to her face. It softened the edges and made her look friendly!

  “My last roommate left this behind. It’s too bad she took the jacket and breeches with her that finished off the costume, but I’m sure we can find you a jacket, maybe even the breeches to go with it. Some of the footmen around here dress quite lavishly, in case you didn’t notice.”