Scandal's Mistress (A Novel of Lord Hawkesbury's Players) by C.J. Archer

Author:C.J. Archer [Archer, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781612183169
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2012-04-24T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Alice thought lying to her parents about her whereabouts the night before would be easy. It had been easy to send them a message, but now that she was face-to-face with them and her sisters in the kitchen, she felt horrible. She almost wished they didn’t believe her. She deserved a tongue-lashing, not their enthusiastic attention.

“What was it like?” her youngest sister, Jane, asked. Her huge eyes regarded Alice with wonder, as if she’d been to heaven and back.

“What was what like?” Alice said, sitting beside her other sister, Elizabeth, near the fireplace. A large pot hung over the low fire and delicious smells of stewing meat wafted up with the steam. Why her mother still bothered to cook so much food, Alice didn’t know. Since the company had moved to the Rose on the other side of the river, it was too far for Alice and her father to return home for their midday dinner every day so they mostly dined out with the rest of the troupe. Her mother made them eat another hearty meal at suppertime simply so none went to waste.

“Mistress Peabody’s house!” Jane said in exasperation. She hopped from foot to foot until her father growled at her.

“Be still, child,” he said.

“I can’t.” Nevertheless, she stopped hopping and plonked down on a stool, put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “So?” she said to Alice. “How big is the house? It must be enormous! Her father is a gentleman, is he not?”

“Jane,” their father scolded. “Don’t pry.” He popped a pin in his mouth and poked another through the hem of the doublet he was mending. The pale blue cloth spread over his knee and the lace edge touched the newly laid rushes. It was a costume worn by Edward Style in their latest play.

Alice frowned, searching for Minerva’s father’s name. She smiled through sheer relief when she remembered it. “Sir George Peabody is a gentleman scientist, but that doesn’t make him rich.” She didn’t know what degree of wealth the Peabodys had so she decided to give answers that said as little as possible.

“He must be,” Jane said with absolute certainty. Her restless, ten-year-old body began to wriggle again and her father shot her another scowl but with a pin in his mouth remained silent.

“How many servants do they keep?” her mother asked, dipping a wooden spoon into the pot.

“I’m not sure,” Alice said. She, too, squirmed in her seat but not for the same reason as Jane. In contrast, Elizabeth, her grave thirteen-year-old sister, sat almost still. Only her fingers nimbly worked at trimming an old hat of Alice’s.

“Not sure? What were you doing there all that time?” her mother pressed. She tucked a strand of gray hair behind her ear and regarded Alice with pride. “Just think, my beautiful girl making friends with gentlefolk. How you do rise, Daughter.”

Alice blushed. Sink was more like it. Today especially. Last night she’d risen on emotions so high, so sweet, she’d been flying.

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