Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,20

opened the door and led her to an upper floor to what she called Mrs. Northgate’s boudoir.

Mrs. Northgate was waiting for her, seated at a table that had been positioned in the middle of the room and obviously brought in for the purpose of making a dress. The table was sturdy and plain, the sort of table Pru’s family would have owned in their room in London.

The rest of the chamber was far more opulent. Pru looked about at the dark woods and plush fabrics on the chairs and the reclining couches. The drapes were heavy velvet, open to the day and would, on a sunny day, allow a great deal of light into the room. A closed door on the far side of the room most likely led to the bed chamber. This chamber must have acted more as a receiving room.

“Your eyes look as though they might pop out at any moment,” Mrs. Northgate said. “Have you never seen a lady’s boudoir?”

“I confess, I have not, ma’am.”

“Sit down.” She indicated the sturdy chair across from her. “I asked about you,” she said as Pru took a seat. Pru’s hands froze in the act of placing her dress fabric, wrapped in paper to keep it clean, on the table.

“Oh, yes, that’s right. I wanted to know something about the young lady in whose company I would be spending several days. I understand you are recently from London, and that your parents are missionaries.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And where are they now? These parents of yours?”

“Bound for the Far East, ma’am.”

“Do they never take you with them on their pilgrimages?” She gestured for Pru to hand over the dress fabric and Pru did so.

“They have in the past.”

“Ah, so you have seen something of the world then.” She unwrapped the paper on the dress and winced. “Oh, dear.”

“What is it?” Pru peered at the bright yellow fabric, hoping it had not been damaged or soiled. She saw no imperfections, though. She had been inordinately careful with the material.

Mrs. Northgate looked at Pru then looked at the fabric. “Go stand by the window, girl.”

Pru did not particularly like being called girl, but she did as she was told. Mrs. Northgate brought the material over and held it up to Pru’s face in the gray light. “Ghastly,” she said.

Pru stared at her. “I know I am plain but—”

“Come here.” Mrs. Northgate took Pru’s wrist between her bony fingers and tugged her to the cheval mirror in one corner. Pru immediately adjusted the dress she wore. It had been white at one time but was now a faded ivory with a pattern of tiny roses sprinkled throughout. The neckline was modest but not buttoned all the way to her neck. A smattering of freckles was visible on Pru’s collarbone. “Look at your face, Miss Howard.”

Pru looked. It was odd to look at her face with someone like Mrs. Northgate observing. When Pru had been younger she had looked in the mirror quite a lot. She’d hoped her freckles would fade or her brown eyes would lighten or darken or her thin lips would grow plump. But she looked as she always did—a thin, long face, a sharp chin, and wide brown eyes that were almost too big. It was a very ordinary face which might have been acceptable had she not had so many freckles. It was her own fault, really. They would not have been so pronounced had she worn a hat in the sun as she ought.

Pru’s mother had always scolded Pru for those long gazes in the mirror. She did not hold with vanity. Pru looked a good deal like her, except her mother had deep red hair and always wore a bonnet to shield her skin from the sun. Her freckles were quite pale. Pru had hair the brown of tree bark which she wore in a simple topknot as she had no skill in hair dressing.

“Now look at your face again,” Mrs. Northgate said as she draped the new dress material over Pru’s chest so it was beside her face. Pru saw the difference immediately. She had looked plain and unremarkable in her dull white dress, but when the yellow fabric was placed beside her skin, she took on a sallow, sickly color. Her freckles looked almost nauseatingly green and the skin under her eyes seemed to sag and darken.

“Do you see the difference?” Mrs. Northgate removed the dress fabric then put it back again. “This is not the color for