Page 20 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
“The boy has excellent table manners for a stable lad,” observed Rosalind, bouncing her baby as she studied Caroline. “And such soft hands.”
Caroline nearly choked on her food. Rosalind had moved closer, ostensibly to offer her more bread, but Caroline caught the knowing look in the woman’s kind eyes.
“Come,” Rosalind said gently, taking Caroline’s arm. “Let me show you our costumes. Young Edgar here is nearly your size. Perhaps we have something that might… suit you better than those travel-stained clothes.”
Inside the costume wagon, surrounded by an extraordinary collection of gowns, doublets, cloaks, and props, Rosalind turned to Caroline with a maternal smile.
“Now then, my dear,” she said softly, “what’s a young lady doing wandering the countryside dressed as a boy? And don’t try to deny it. I’ve costume-fitted enough actors to know the difference.”
Caroline’s disguise crumbled under the woman’s gentle but perceptive gaze. “I… there was a man trying to abduct my friend. I helped rescue her, but now he might be looking for me.”
“Ah.” Rosalind nodded as if this explained everything. “And your friend is safe?”
“Yes, she’s with… with someone who can protect her.” The memory of Henry riding away with Venetia still stung, but Caroline pushed the feeling aside.
“But left you behind to fend for yourself?” Rosalind’s tone sharpened with disapproval. “That doesn’t speak well of your protectors.”
“He didn’t know it was me,” Caroline said quickly, then realized she was revealing too much again. “I was disguised as a stable boy. He gave me this sovereign as payment and rode away with my friend. I…I can pay you for new clothes.”
Rosalind’s expression softened. “For now, you need to get home safely.”
“To London,” Caroline confirmed. “But I don’t know how—”
She was interrupted by voices outside—harsh, demanding tones that made her blood run cold.
“Search every wagon! The boy came this way—someone must have seen him!”
Rosalind’s eyes widened, then narrowed with determination. “Quickly,” she whispered, pulling Caroline deeper into the wagon. “We must get you properly disguised.”
Working with the swift efficiency of a professional, Rosalind stripped Caroline of her boy’s clothes, rummaged in an old trunk, before dressing her in a simple gown of deep-blue wool. Over Caroline’s golden hair, she placed a cap and veil in the style favored by young matrons, while Caroline rubbed at the dirt and smudges on her face with a damp cloth Rosalind had thrust into her hands.
“There,” Rosalind said, stepping back to admire her work. “You’re now my niece, visiting from the next county. Keep your eyes down and let me do the talking.”
The wagon lurched as someone climbed the steps. Caroline’s heart hammered as the curtain was thrust aside, revealing a rough-looking man in riding clothes.
“Who’s in here?” he demanded, his eyes sweeping the interior.
“Myself and my niece,” Rosalind replied calmly, shifting so that the baby in her arms was more visible. “Is there something you need?”
Behind the first man, Caroline glimpsed a familiar figure that made her blood freeze—Lord Windermere himself, his cold eyes scanning the wagon’s interior.
“We’re searching for a boy—a stable lad who’s run off with something valuable,” Windermere said, his gaze lingering on Caroline. “Small, slight build, fair hair.”
“I’ve seen no such boy,” Rosalind replied smoothly. “We’ve been rehearsing all morning. My niece here has been helping with costumes.”
Windermere stepped closer, and Caroline fought the urge to shrink back. “Lift your head, girl,” he commanded.
Caroline raised her eyes just enough to show her face, praying her disguise would hold. Windermere studied her for a long moment that felt like eternity.
“Pretty little thing,” he murmured, and Caroline felt sick at the predatory gleam in his eyes. “If my business weren’t so urgent, I might be inclined to become better acquainted.”
“My niece is betrothed,” Rosalind said firmly, “to a blacksmith in the next county. A man with a very protective nature and large fists.”
Windermere laughed unpleasantly, but stepped back. “Search the rest of the wagons,” he ordered his men. “The boy’s here somewhere.”
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the men concluded their search and departed. Caroline remained frozen until she heard their horses’ hoofbeats fading into the distance.
“There,” Rosalind said, letting out a breath. “That’s done. But you’re not safe here, my dear. Men like that don’t give up easily.”
