The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl by Leigh Statham Read Free Book Online Page A

one side and peered at the girl through crusty eyes.
    “What are you doing in here?” Her favorite clock, the only one set to chime, came to life just then, striking its tiny, tinkling bell twelve times.
    “Your father sent me to wake you, mademoiselle. Please forgive me.”
    The apologetic manner of the maid pushed Marguerite into a deeper mood of resentment. “What does he want? I played all his little games last night. He can at least afford me a day in bed.”
    “I believe you have received several letters of inquiry this morning, ma’am. I think he’s excited to talk them over with you.”
    “He’s excited to plan my entire life for me.” She muttered this last sentence from under the pillow she was using to block the light from the window her maid had just drawn open.
    “ GET UP .” Pomphart had descended.
    Marguerite groaned and pulled the pillow down harder, pretending she had never heard. Madame Pomphart jerked the pillow away from her head unceremoniously. “Get up this instant and show some respect for your father’s wishes.”
    If she didn’t know for a fact that Pomphart had no heart, Marguerite could have sworn she was in love with her father. She spoke as if he were the King himself.
    Marguerite sat up grudgingly and motioned for her maid to bring the breakfast tray to her bed.
    “No, you haven’t time for that.” Pomphart held up her hand blocking the maid.
    “And how am I to keep my wits about me if I’m half-starved and fatigued from all the buffoons who stomped my feet half the night?”
    Madame Pomphart raised her hand and brought it down hard across Marguerite’s face.
    “Ah!” she cried out in pain and surprise. The maid jumped, spilling tea all over the biscuits.
    “I’ve had enough of you, young lady. You will remember your place and you will fill it with dignity and grace just as your mother did and all the ladies of this manor before her.”
    Marguerite took her hand from her stinging face, drew in a deep, controlled breath before sliding her feet out from under the covers and pushing herself to stand in front of Pomphart.
    “You are relieved.” She looked steadily into the older woman’s eyes.
    Pomphart gazed back without flinching; she was calling the younger girl’s bluff. “Your father has instructed me to—and I quote—‘Help my daughter realize her potential and her blessings. Help me tame her and make her a good match for a suitable mate.’ That is exactly what I intend to do, by any means necessary.”
    Rarely had Marguerite ever felt so much hatred for anyone. Annoyance, yes, dislike, often, but hatred was a strong emotion she wasn’t often bothered with. She turned to her maid and took the tray from the poor girl’s trembling hands. She tried to keep her voice even as she whispered, “You are no longer needed.” The maid, obviously relieved, scurried out of the room and down the passageway, her feet landing heavily on the richly carpeted halls.
    Marguerite turned back to face Pomphart and expertly balanced her tray with one hand while daintily lifting a piece of tea-soaked biscuit to her lips. Dribbles of brown liquid ran down her arm and fell from her face to her dressing gown. Pinky extended, she took a huge bite and then wiped the excess off her lips with the back of her hand.
    Through a mouthful of soggy breakfast she mumbled a surprisingly audible, “Good luck to you then!” and smiled sweetly at her tormentor as bits of biscuit fell from her lips and littered the floor.
    Pomphart moved quickly, knocking the tray from her hand and grabbing a fistful of Marguerite’s untamed morning hair. Breakfast dishes flew all over the floor and Marguerite wailed as Pomphart dragged her to the dressing table, shoving her down in the chair.
    “You will learn. You will behave like a lady, and you will agree to marry this month. Only then will you be free of me and I of you. Do you understand?”
    At the word “marry” Marguerite’s heart did a flip—Claude!