Page 13 of One Night with a Prince
Don’t wear black tomorrow.
Right. Christabel surveyed the contents of her armoire with a sigh. Black muslin with lace trim, black dimity with braid trim, black fustian with pearl buttons. Even her riding habits were black. A truly dismal selection.
“I told you, milady,” said Rosa, her Gibraltan lady’s maid, “we dyedall your gowns black. Every one. You ordered it so.”
“And youlistened to me?” Christabel slumped onto the bed. “What were you thinking?”
Rosa had been with Christabel from the beginning of her marriage, first as a maid-of-all-work, then as a lady’s maid. Since they were nearly the same age, Christabel regarded her less as a servant than a sister. A very opinionated, often annoying, sister.
“I always listen to you,” Rosa retorted with a toss of her lush black curls. “Especially when you are—how do you say in English—pigheaded. You said you would mourn his lordship forever.”
Christabel winced. That was when she was still in the throes of grief, before she’d learned what Philip had been doing behind her back. Now another of her rash and impulsive acts had returned to haunt her.
“Go on, say it.” Christabel lay back to stare at the ceiling. “I was a fool. You disapprove of my not keeping at least one gown undyed.”
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove,” Rosa said primly. Christabel snorted. “And when did this sudden subservience make itself known? Shall I call in a doctor?”
“Very well, if you must know my opinion, life is too short to spend it mourning a man. Any man.”
Christabel sat up to hug her knees. “But especially Philip, right?”
Rosa’s manner softened. “Oh, my lady, he wasn’t worthy of you. You deserve a better husband. Perhaps this Mr. Byrne—”
Christabel began to laugh hysterically. “No, indeed. He’s not remotely the marrying sort.”
Rosa frowned. “But good enough to share your bed?”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlChristabel stopped laughing. She hadn’t dared reveal the real reason for her sudden connection to Byrne—even loyal servants like Rosa gossiped, and this must be a masquerade in the truest sense. So she’d told her servant that she’d found a protector.
But that wasn’t the source of Rosa’s frown; oh no. Rosa believed that a woman should engage in scandalous liaisons whenever possible. It was part of the “life is too short” philosophy she’d embraced after her cheating soldier husband had got himself shot in a French brothel. Rosa was also practical enough to realize that a woman had to do what she must to survive sometimes. So something else must be bothering her. “I thought you approved of my taking a lover?”
“It is not for me to—”
“Stubble it, Rosa. What’s annoying you now?”
“I only want to make sure he’s a good man. And men who aren’t ever interested in marriage with anyone are generally…”
“Scoundrels. I know.” She managed a smile. “Does it help that he’s a charming scoundrel?”
Rosa eyed her askance.
“I don’t intend to remarry anyway, so it hardly matters.”
After this scheme with Byrne, no one of her rank would probably have her. Which was fine. Truly. She would return to traveling with Papa and spending her time with soldiers. What did she want with a lordly husband? She’d be better off with some sergeant who might appreciate her talents with firearms. And who would never presume to court a widowed marchioness. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She might consider remarrying if it meant she could have children. But she was clearly barren—ten years of marriage with no babes amply demonstrated that. Tears stung her eyes. No man with rank or property or any hopes for the future wanted a woman who couldn’t give him heirs.
So what difference did it makewhat she wore for an outing with that devil Byrne? She thrust out her chin. None whatsoever. And if it annoyed him, so be it.
Brushing away her tears, she left the bed. “All right, let’s get this done. Which of the awful things should I wear?”
“It matters not. They are all ugly in black.” Rosa shot her a sly glance. “Thank heaven your new lover is purchasing you gowns.”
“He’s not purchasing me gowns. He’s merely helping me choose them.” She only prayed she didn’t go too deeply into debt while buying them.
“What?” With another frown, Rosa took down the dimity gown and helped Christabel into it. “Will he expect you to pay for everything? You cannot afford—”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“We haven’t worked out the financial arrangements yet.” She eyed Rosa askance. “And what happened to ‘it is not my place to approve or disapprove’?”
