Earls Just Want to Have Fun (9 page)

“I'm sorry. You said your name was Miss Marlowe.”

“I said Marlowe. No
miss
.”

Susanna shook her head. “Oh, but I cannot call you Marlowe. That's not proper, as we've only just met.”

Marlowe raised a brow. “You think I care about what's proper?”

“I think you should, if you're to meet Lord and Lady Lyndon soon. They are very nice people, but they are also proper people.”

“I don't want to meet them rich nobs. I want to go home.”

Susanna cocked her head and said simply, “Where is home?”

“Seven Dials. My gang and me live in a flash ken there. Best gang in London, if you ask me.”

“And do you have parents there?”

Dane wondered why he had not asked these questions. Did she have parents? What was a flash ken?

Marlowe laughed. “No, I don't have parents. I have Satin. He's the arch rogue. He keeps all the cubs in line, and if I don't get back, he's going to come after me.”

“Will you be in trouble for being gone this long?”

Marlowe's expression changed. For the first time, Dane saw fear in her eyes. “I can look out for myself.”

“I have no doubt of that, but my point is that if you are already in trouble, why not stay a little longer and meet Lord and Lady Lyndon? Even if this Satin realizes you are here, we won't allow him to see you or speak to you. The footmen can keep him out. Isn't that right, Lloyd?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You see?” Susanna said, gesturing to the head footman. “The servants will protect you. If Satin comes here, Crawford will say he has never heard of you and will not allow this Satin inside.”

Dane looked at Marlowe for an argument, but for once she was silent. She looked as though she might be considering. Dane would have to move Susanna up in his estimation.

“Do you not want to meet Lord and Lady Lyndon?”

Marlowe shrugged.

“Can you be certain they are not your parents? Can you be certain you are not Lady Elizabeth?”

Marlowe looked up, and her expression was softer than Dane had seen it. She almost looked…vulnerable. She looked terribly beautiful. Dane could not look away, and he held his breath, waiting for her answer.

“No,” she whispered. “I'm not certain. I…” She shook her head, unwilling to share whatever it was she knew of who she might be.

“Then why not at least meet the Lyndons? Can you imagine how long they have waited for this day? Can you imagine how happy they will be to meet the little girl they lost all those years before? I do not know the Lyndons well, but I have heard that both the marchioness and the marquess were devastated when their daughter was abducted. They never stopped searching for her. The loss turned Lady Lyndon's hair white, and some thought she would die from grief. She did not seem to want to continue living.”

Marlowe looked down, her fingers twined, saying nothing. She looked so small in the chair, so young. Dane wanted to go to her and hold her, which was ridiculous.

“Can you deny them this chance to meet their daughter, their only child?”

Marlowe looked up, her eyes bright and suspiciously red. Had she been crying? “But don't you see, that's the reason I shouldn't meet them. Look at me.” She gestured to her clothing, but Dane had the sense she was gesturing to her entire being. “They won't want the likes of me as their daughter.”

“Of course they will. Do you think they care how you speak or dress? You are their child.”

But Dane understood what Marlowe was saying. He did not know the Lyndons either, but unless they were truly amazing people, Marlowe would not be at all who they wanted to claim as a daughter. He wanted to tell Susanna not to give Marlowe false hope, but he wanted Susanna to be right more than anything else. Damn him if he didn't like a happy ending as much as the next person.

Not to mention, either way, she wasn't leaving until Brook returned. If warm feelings about a reunion with her long-lost parents kept her at Derring House, then so be it. He would play along.

“But look at me,” Marlowe said. “I don't talk like you or dress like you or do that bending at the knee thing.”

“Is that all?” Susanna asked. “I can fix that. Your speech is not so bad. One reason
I
am convinced you are Lady Elizabeth is because at times I hear the refined accent in your speech. We need only draw it out further. You can borrow any of my dresses. I have far too many, and I can teach you to curtsy. I can teach you all the rules. Oh, Miss Marlowe!” Susanna clasped the girl's hands in hers. “This will be fun.”

Without waiting for an answer, Susanna rose and rushed to the door. She flung it open and said, “Where is Maggie? Where is my lady's maid? Fetch her, will you, Nathaniel?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Still in the dining room, Marlowe looked at Dane. He gave her a slow smile. “Now you've done it.”

Oh, this ought to be thoroughly diverting.

He was right. Marlowe had done it. She stood in Lady Susanna's frilly pink-and-white bedchamber as Dane's sister directed her servants to pull dress after dress
after
dress
from her dressing room. Marlowe looked about curiously. The room was smaller than Dane's and much, much more feminine. Marlowe had never seen anything so feminine. The curtains were edged with lace, the walls were the palest pink, and the girl's dressing table was so dainty Marlowe was afraid if she leaned on it, it would topple over.

The bed had a white counterpane and fluffy pillows scattered about, now all but hidden under the growing pile of gowns. Who ever heard of white bedclothes? They would be soiled in a matter of moments in Seven Dials. On the little table beside the bed, three books had been stacked. Three. Marlowe had never seen so many books in one person's possession. She knew books were valuable to those who could read them. Sometimes the cubs came home with a few books filched during one of the better-rackets. Satin always sold them for a tidy sum.

Curious, Marlowe fingered one of the books, opening the cover and looking at the letters on the page. She could not make out all the words, but she recognized
the
and
of
. One of the servants made a tsking sound, and Marlowe closed the book, glancing at the mountain of dresses now teetering on the bed. She waved her hands. “Stop! I only need one dress.”

Lady Susanna poked her head from the dressing room. “Nonsense. You need at least three a day. A morning dress, a dinner dress, a—”

“Three?” She began to back toward the door. “I'd spend half my day changing clothes.”

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.