Read Online The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl by Leigh Statham - Free Book Online Page A

anything small enough was too dull to bother with. As they approached the street corner, her mood grew darker and darker. Why must she put up with this sort of arrangement? She was of age now, for heaven’s sake. She shouldn’t be made to do anything she didn’t want to.
    “Vivienne, what do normal girls do when they turn sixteen?”
    “Come again?” Vivienne looked completely lost.
    “What do girls like, say, her”—Marguerite pointed to a maid with her hair tied up in a bright red scarf, carrying a basket of bread on her hip—“do when they come of age?”
    “I suppose they get work in the shops or farms? Why?” Vivienne asked.
    “Maybe that’s what I should do: get a job.”
    Vivienne looked up at her friend with confused eyes. “Who would have you? Anyone in fifty départements knows your father. No one would take you for fear of his wrath! Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “I wish you would stop mocking me. I’m a grown woman now, I should be able to do whatever I wish.” Marguerite was indignant and wanted to test out her newfound adulthood. “Let us ask this shop owner.”
    She approached the counter where a kind-faced little man stood with an excited smile, obviously hoping for a big sale.
    “Good sir, if you were to be hiring, would you consider employing someone such as myself?” Marguerite stood as tall as her little frame would allow, hoping to seem older.
    “Excuse me, miss?” He was immediately crestfallen. “Why would a lady such as yourself want to work in a humble shop such as mine?”
    “That is not the point. I merely asked if you would consider it.”
    He hesitated, then answered, “No miss, I’m afraid I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole. Your father would bring down the hounds of hell upon me.” Genuinely frightened now, he fussed with a display of hat pins. “It just isn’t right, miss. You should be marrying someone grand and setting up your own estates and parties.”
    Marguerite huffed. “Well, if I’m not fit to work here then I suppose I’m not fit to shop here either. Come, Vivienne!”
    “But Marguerite! I wanted those gloves.”
    “Come!” She linked the other girl’s arm and dragged her out the door into pedestrian traffic once again. Marguerite stomped her foot like a child as she looked around the busy town. “There is absolutely nothing for me here!”
    Outil had been waiting outside the door, and, upon seeing her mistress’s face, inquired, “Is anything amiss?”
    “No, I’m fine, Outil. Go get the auto-carriage and meet us at the end of the street. I don’t feel like walking home.”
    “There was a message while you were in the shop, Miss.” Outil stared across the street as she addressed her owner with her quiet female voice.
    “From whom?”
    “Madame Pomphart direct-telegraphed to my receivers that she is not pleased with your absence at her lesson today and that you will be severely reprimanded when you return home. I am to bring you there straight away.”
    “Oh dear,” Vivienne twittered, “you didn’t tell me … ”
    “Fine, Outil. Just go get the carriage.”
    “Yes, miss.” Outil sprinted back down the road.
    Marguerite felt the last of her happiness fly away like a butterfly on the late summer breeze. She looked around the small town while her friend prattled on about the tragedy of it all. Did Marguerite still think Pomphart wanted to marry Lord Vadnay? Was she just trying to get Marguerite out of the way? Wasn’t there any way she could reconcile and find a way to be happy with Delacourte?
    All her words slipped from Marguerite’s ears and fell to the dusty walkway. The street she once thought so grand seemed small and crowded now. The shop signs seemed worn and as weary as she felt.
    “Marguerite, I really did want those gloves. I’m just going to pop back and buy them. Don’t be mad?” Vivienne looked like a dog who’d been hit one too many times, afraid to ask for dinner.
    “Of course.” Marguerite was too