Wicked Surrender by Jade Lee

Author:Jade Lee [Lee, Jade]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Great Britain - Social Life and Customs - 19th Century, Man-Woman Relationships, Regency Fiction, Historical Fiction, Regency - England, General, Romance, Historical, Fiction, Love Stories
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2010-09-06T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Morning came late, thankfully, but when it arrived, it gave no mercy. Scheherazade was woken by Delilah, who brought tea and complaints. Her concerns were even written down in a rather ramshackle hand, but the words were clear enough. Kit had been meddling, and the troupe did not like it.

Scher dressed quickly, then went about soothing ruffled feathers. She told everyone she could that she would speak to Kit this very afternoon, that she would explain to him why he was wrong, that she would do everything in her power to keep things running smoothly. No one believed her.

The actors weren’t stupid. They all knew that as soon as she married Kit, their lives would fall into his hands. And as happy as they were at her coming change in status, they did not want it to effect their lives. In short, it had taken Kit one week to turn everyone in the company against him and their wedding. By the time Scher was in a hackney on the way to the countess’s tea, her shoulders were bowed almost to her knees. She had expected problems from Kit’s family, from his aristocratic friends, but never from the troupe or the man himself. Never had she thought Kit would create more difficulties when they already faced so many.

And damn it, why couldn’t Kit have come by to pick her up himself so she didn’t have to sit in this terrible hackney, crushing her skirts and picking up the smells of God only knew what had last been in the cab? She sniffed delicately, wrinkling her nose at the scents of urine, vomit, and stale perfume. There was also the strong scent of cabbage. She had on her own perfume, with extra in her tiny reticule for after she disembarked, but it would not be enough. A discerning nose—and she was sure that the countess had a very discerning nose—would detect every vile scent that clung to Scheherazade.

She thought fondly of Brandon’s high-perch phaeton and how she had felt when he handed her up. No noxious smells then, just the sweet spring air and mint. It was ridiculous to think that her affections could be purchased with a carriage ride, but she had felt especially grand sitting beside Brandon in his phaeton. Or she had felt grand until they made it to the park.

The countess’s home was in the most reclusive part of London. Pappy and she had once strolled through the neighborhood on a particularly fine autumn afternoon. But someone’s butler had spotted their commonplace clothing and chased them away. What would Pappy think now about her attending a party at this exclusive address?

Probably that it was all well and good to pretend to being royalty, but she should never try to walk among them for good. He was happy to playact at being nobility for an afternoon, but at the end of the day, he firmly believed that every man—and woman—had a place in society. She should not think to rise above it.

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