Page 12 of King Takes Queen

Bah. To hell with the man.

They weren’t far from the playhouse. Hurriedly, she pushed back her hood and reached into her cloak pocket for the small compact case of powder. With swift, practiced movements, she patted a sponge with the white cake along the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks, along her forehead, and finished with swipes over her jawline. She flipped over the case and extracted the black dot that she placed on her upper left cheek. She didn’t have time to kohl her eyes, but if she kept her hood low over her eyes, Mr. Wembley should be none the wiser.

The doors to the playhouse came into view, and her pulse quickened. She pressed her lips tightly together and grazed her teeth over her bottom lip to bring color to it. A jolt of energy and excitement replaced her worries, and she shifted to the edge of her seat. When Jack opened the door for her, she was ready. Ready to embark on the next phase of her plan.

Minerva hopped down with the assistance of Jack’s hand. “Isn’t it grand!”

“It’s definitely something, my lady.” Jack’s dark frown returned. “Allow me to accompany you inside.”

“If I’m to live as I plan, I must become accustomed to doing things on my own.” She patted his arm and reassured him, “All will be well.”

Her gaze landed on the rickety stairwell that led to the lodgings up above, up to the room she would call home for several months. She ventured along the hard-packed dirt path that led to the back door of the playhouse, making sure she didn’t come too close to the drab brown boards that were a stark contrast to the whitewashed brick of the Malbury townhouse. Minerva clasped her gloved hand over her nose and mouth as the stench of ale and vomit assaulted her. She shuffled the remaining few feet and reached the foot of the stairs.

What was she waiting for?

She glanced over her shoulder to find Jack loitering close by. Every ounce of courage she thought she’d possessed mysteriously vanished. The urge to abandon her plans and forfeit her match to Anthony nearly had her turning and running back toward her footman.

No.

Three years of planning.

Three years of dreaming of a different life.

Three years of negotiations were not going to go to waste.

She planted her foot on the first step and then climbed the rest in quick succession before she changed her mind. Knuckles poised inches from the door, Minerva mumbled, “If Mr. Wembley is inside…then Madam Rose I shall become.” She puffed out her chest and rapped on the door three times in quick succession, followed by a pause, and then three more knocks against the thin wooden door. The hollow knocks reverberated through the tight alley and her. “If he’s already left…then I shall—”

Her negative thoughts flew from her mind as the door whooshed open.

Mr. Wembley appeared with a dark scowl upon his dour features. “Madame. You. Are. Late.”

Lips curled into a lopsided smile, Minerva replied, “Ahh… Mr. Wembley, the night is still young.” She added a singsong lilt to her voice that sounded rusty to her own ears.

Minerva strode into the room, her heart bursting with joy. The room was large, unusually large, and it had windows on two of the walls. Two, which was one more than her current bedroom had. Sunshine during the day. Privacy at night. It was perfect. A space all of her own.

She scanned the space, which was bare of furnishings. Where did one purchase a bed and linens and such?

“The letting fee is two shillings a week, eight for the month, in advance first of the month.” Mr. Wembley held out his hand.

She reached into her cloak, extracted a half-sovereign, and handed it over. “I’d like to take possession tonight. The extra should cover any inconvenience to you.”

Palm up, Mr. Wembley bobbed his hand up and down, assessing the coin’s weight. Then he popped his hand into his waistcoat and extracted a key. “I’ll be back next month for the rent.”

Without a farewell, the grumpy old man walked out of the room, leaving her alone.

She meandered over to the window and peered down at the alley. Jack was pacing back and forth, still shaking his head. Her footman would know where and how to obtain the items she needed. She hoped she’d extorted enough of her sisters’ pin money to afford at least a bed and clean linens. They were additional costs not factored into her original plan.

What other obstacles would she face?

She twirled in a circle. Privacy.

Eyes closed, she imagined decorating the room to her own tastes. Yes. This would become her space, and it would all be worth it. If she wasn’t able to obtain her dream of a love match and children, then her childhood fantasy of being an actress upon the stage was the next best thing.

Chapter Seven

Anthony tugged hisgloves off and sank down on Minerva’s empty bed.

Where the bloody hell was she? The slap of leather against his thighs punctuated his disbelief. Having regretted letting her leave so soon, he had hailed a hack and followed her home. He was no stranger to the Malbury townhouse, but creeping through the halls in the middle of the night and entering Minerva’s chambers was new. Not too long ago, he and Kent would return to the Malbury townhouse half foxed after a long night of revelry. Now that Kent was a happily married man, those days were over.

---