Page 61 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“Where did you hear that?”
Phee released a bubble of laughter. “I haven’t a clue.”
“That must be so odd not to remember things.”
“It was at first, terribly odd, unsettling, but I’ve resigned myself to the notion that I might never know. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.” Maybe Darling had the right of it, that she had forgotten for a reason.
“I have to admit I’d prefer to forget some things in my life. M’dad lost in drink mostly. Bein’ in service is not such a bad thing.”
Perhaps not such a bad thing, but Phee wanted to do more with her life. While the specifics eluded her, she did know that she wanted to make a difference in some manner. “Have you always wanted to be in service?”
“It’s better than working the farm. The vicar helped me. I was only twelve but I was sweet on him. I used to imagine that when I grew up I’d meet someone like him, someone to take me away from all my chores.”
Did everyone yearn for a different life—the wealthy, the aristocracy, the royals? What did she yearn for? Independence flashed through her mind. She wanted to be free to do as she pleased, not that Drake was a harsh taskmaster, and she was beginning to enjoy caring for his house, but something was lacking. She wantedsomething. “Have you a beau now?” she asked.
Marla released a light chuckle. “No. Few domestics marry. Seeing to our chores is supposed to be our life’s work, our priority. You have forgotten a lot, haven’tyou?”
Phee couldn’t imagine that she would care about chores more than anything else in the world. Even as she considered how best to care for Drake’s residence, even as she wanted to arrange the furniture and purchase more of it and give the place a pleasant atmosphere, she couldn’t see herself caring about only those things. If she had a chance to dance, she would leave scrub brushes behind without a second thought. She’d rather purchase a new frock than repair an old one. She wanted to wear a different dress every day, not the same old drab uniform.
Embracing her present life wasn’t nearly as appealing as stretching the boundaries and searching for something new. Just as at that moment, new gloves called to her.
She’d barely noticed they’d come to a street of shops. Marla stopped in front of a window, almost pressing her nose to the glass as she peered in. “This is my favorite shop.”
Phee glanced inside. She could see why. It was a ladies’ boutique, specializing in the various personal items a lady needed. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”
“Oh no,” Marla said, stepping back, her eyes wide. “Can’t go in if we’re not going to purchase anything.”
“Who said I wasn’t going to purchase anything?”
Before Marla could object, Phee had opened the door and stepped inside. For the first time since she’d awoken in Drake’s bed, she felt remarkably at home. The gent behind the counter came to attention, seemed to take them both in with a sweeping glance, before relaxing his stance and looking down the long, knifelike bridge of his nose.
“May I help you?” His condescending tone almost had her taking her business elsewhere, but she was far more interested in putting him in his place. She didn’t like him, shouldn’t give him her business, but was quite sure she’d dealt with his sort before.
She angled her chin, did her own looking down, and said as distinctly as possible, “I need to see what you have in the way of gloves.”
His head gave the tiniest of jerks as though he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “As you wish, madam.”
“It’s La—” Was she going to say lady? Why would she say that? Had she been a lady in another life, before she became a servant? Was she hiding from something before the river? Such strange musings. “Miss.”
He turned to a set of drawers, tugged one out completely, and set it on the counter. An assortment of gloves awaited her perusal. Cotton. Some with a bit of lace. She lifted one, examined it, dropped it. “These are poorly made. I want kidskin. Your finest, most supple kidskin.”
“I doubt you can afford it.”
“I doubt, sir, that you have the barest inkling as to what I can afford. Now be quick about attending to my needs lest I go elsewhere.”
She was much more pleased with the leather selections. She had rewrapped her hands before leaving on the outing, covering the broken skin only twice with linen strips, but still it was a challenge to put the gloves on in order to determine the proper size. Finally she was satisfied. “I’ll take a pair in white and tan.”
Then she noticed Marla’s gloved hands resting lightly on the counter. The cotton worn and frayed. “I’ll also be taking a pair for my friend. Marla, which ones would you like?”
Phee was relatively certain she’d seen a full moon, but she didn’t think it could have been any bigger than Marla’s eyes, round with surprise.
“Don’t be daft. You can’t purchase me gloves.”
“Silly girl, Darling will be paying for them.” She removed the pouch of coins from her pocket, started to open it, and stopped. It didn’t feel quite right. One did not pay for gloves with coins. She looked at the clerk. “Everything we want is to be charged to a Mr. Drake Darling. I shall give you his address and you’re to deliver the items there this evening. He’ll pay you at that time.”
“I don’t know a Mr. Drake Darling, so I’m afraid,miss, that I can’t extend you credit. You have to pay for your purchases.”
That wasn’t the way it was done. She knew that. Even though she had coins in her pockets, those were for the market. In a shop, she did little more than sign her name. She straightened her spine, brought back her shoulders, and delivered her best fuming glare. “Drake Darling is a man of influence and wealth. I daresay he has rubbed elbows with Bertie. You do know who Bertie is, do you not?”
