Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,18

on her to invite her, not long after he arrived at Milcroft, she told him she didn’t believe in God.”

“But that must have been thirty years ago,” Pru said. “She’s never attended church in all that time?”

“No.” Mrs. Blimkin was not even pretending to dust at this point. She looked over her shoulder to make certain Mr. Higginbotham’s door was still closed. “Not a once. And do you know what else?”

Pru knew she should not gossip, but she was absolutely fascinated. She had never considered not attending church. She had gone every Sunday and more for as long as she’d been alive. She hadn’t realized until she’d been fifteen or sixteen that some people did not attend church.

“What else?” Pre asked.

“I have heard—I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, mind you—but I have heard that she does housework on Sundays.”

Pru sat back. “She cooks and cleans on Sunday?”

“She must! The servants have the day off—as they should—and when they return on Monday morning, let’s just say that the kitchen is cleaner than they left it and there’s often a pie or a newly baked half loaf of bread that wasn’t there when they left Saturday evening.”

This was indeed shocking, and also rather exhilarating. Pru liked people who broke the rules. Perhaps because she broke them so often herself—not intentionally, of course. She had been known to forget it was Sunday some weeks as well and accidentally pick up a broom or duster. She always repented of her sin right away, of course. And unlike when she repented for reading novels or uttering a curse, Pru was genuinely sorry for breaking the commandment to honor the Sabbath. She did not want to clean any day, and it was only habit that caused her to lift the broom in the first place.

“How can Mrs. Northgate help me with the dress?” Pru asked. Mrs. Blimkin seemed to have forgotten all about that suggestion and stared at Pru blankly for a moment before nodding.

“She was quite the fashionable lady in her day. Made all her own clothes and makes many of the dresses her granddaughters wear. Not that Miss Northgate or Miss Mary appreciate it.

Pru doubted the Northgate girls appreciated much, but they were always well-dressed. “And you think she would help me?”

“I think she’d be happy for the company. You’re an odd one, but you’re pleasant enough.”

“Thank you.” Pru added, “I think,” under her breath. “Do you think the vicar will mind?” Pru glanced at the closed door again.

“Not if you drop a Bible verse or two into your conversation. He can’t get near her. If you can, he’ll see it as an opportunity.”

Pru nodded. “Might I go now?”

“You don’t need my permission.”

Pru gathered the material then put it back down. It might be too forward to bring the dress material with her, as though she expected Mrs. Northgate to agree. Instead she took up the pattern book, donned her coat and bonnet, pulled on her gloves, and set off down Milcroft’s main street.

The vicarage was at the far end of Milcroft, as though the church had been built as an afterthought. The shops were closer to the river and the mill so they might easily cater to farmers who brought their wares to sell or their grain to be milled every week. The wealthier families had homes just outside the town. The Earl of Beaufort’s estate was about three miles outside of town. The Northgate house was only a quarter of a mile. The Northgates had an orchard and exported the apples, pears, cherries, and plums they did not sell locally. Pru had recently learned that Mr. Northgate also sold apple cider during the harvest season, and the congregation of the church was atwitter about Northgate’s promise to bring a cask of it to the autumn festival for all to enjoy.

It wasn’t until Pru drew close to the Northgate house that she felt the flutter in her belly. She hadn’t felt nervous when she’d gone to see Mr. Pope, even though he might have shot her. She supposed she truly was a vain creature as she was more worried about the Northgate girls laughing at her ugly dress than being shot through the head. It did not hurt that Mr. Pope was so handsome. In addition to her weakness for dangerous men, she had a weakness for dark-haired men. It had gotten her into trouble in Cairo and was the main reason she was here now and not on a ship