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

She had thought briefly before she fell asleep of sneaking out to the docks to see him off, but had most certainly missed him by now. It was so late in the day! The pain in her face and head were nothing compared to the pit in her stomach.
    Pomphart pulled and twisted Marguerite’s hair into a knot at the back of her head in the traditional style of a woman who had come of age. Marguerite’s eyes seemed a bit slanted, her hair was drawn so tightly, and her head ached even more. Pomphart then took three strides to the wardrobe and pulled out a drab, everyday dress. “You will put this on and be in the dining room in ten minutes or I will finish what you’ve started here.”
    She stepped toward the door and then turned to add, “And there will be no more dismissals from you.”
    Marguerite stared at the bitter woman’s reflection in the mirror. She waited until she had left the room, then reached up to massage her aching scalp and pull the pins out to free her tresses. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have missed her last chance to see Claude?
    She felt tears well up and almost spill out as she touched the hot pink mark on her cheek. But resolve won out; she would not let this woman make her cry. She had endured months of similar treatment, never-ending social lessons and foul tempers; it was time for it to end. Her father would take one look at her now-swollen eye and put a stop to it. She dressed quickly and marched downstairs.
    Lord Vadnay sat in his large, gold-leafed chair at the head of the main dining hall. All evidence of the festivities from the night before had been removed by skilled bots and human servants working together through the night. Her father was a good-hearted man, but he did have his pet peeves. A mess the morning after a party was one of the largest.
    “Superb execution on both the night’s revelries and clean up, my good man.” Marguerite walked in on him praising the butler for remembering his preferences, even though many years had passed since the great manor had thrown a gala of any size, much less to the extent of the night before. Marguerite was also grateful, for this meant her father would be in a good mood and more likely to listen to reason.
    “Good morning, Father.” She smiled at him as best she could, her face still throbbing and all of her feelings lodged in her throat.
    “Don’t you mean good afternoon?”
    “Yes, I suppose so.” She took her place at the table next to him and motioned for the servant standing behind her to bring her meal.
    “Haven’t you eaten already?” He snorted. “Lazy girl. Whatever am I going to do with you?” He chuckled to himself and cut her off as she started to speak. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do with you; I’m going to marry you off to the most eligible man in all of France!”
    “Father, wait—”
    He cut her off again. “I arose this morning to this.” He motioned to the stack of mail next to his plate, not an uncommon sight at breakfast, only it contained several more pieces of correspondence than usual. “A lovely pile of cards from all sorts of fellows who had a splendid time with my, let me see here.” He picked up one of the letters and read aloud: “Your most excellent and beautiful daughter.” Lord Vadnay beamed with the pride only a father can hold for his daughter, then carried on.
    “The one I wasn’t expecting, purely because of their tendency to put things off and keep you in the dark, was from Lord Delacourte himself—the father, not the son—exclaiming at your grace, beauty, and ability to capture his son’s attention, ‘something no other young lady has been able to do, to date.’ HA ! You’ve done it, my girl! The whole country is in love with you!”
    “Father, I—”
    “I knew you hated your lessons with Madame Pomphart, but I also knew you were quick and would catch on and make good use of them. It was necessary to rein you in a bit from all your wild roaming and