Page 54 of An Alleged Rogue

If Phoebe had not wanted to win this battle so desperately, she would have felt sorry for Lord Dunsbourne. Like it or not, the beleaguered baron was outnumbered.

“Emily may be in the orchard because she is part of this family.”

“And I shall be there because I am a friend.”

He looked at her then. They were several feet apart, but emotion pulsed between them.

“Society will not approve if you do this.” His voice was low.

“My conscience will not forgive me if I do not.”

Chapter 17

Phoebe went through her wardrobe for the second time before dropping onto her bed in despair. How was it possible that she could own so many gowns and yet not have a single one suitable for apple picking? Even her oldest gowns were inappropriate. If they were not ornamented with so much lace that her sleeves would catch on branches, they were cinched so tightly at the waist as to prevent her from bending over. She had layers and layers of petticoats without a practical skirt amongst them.

“It is useless, Lucy. The only sensible article of clothing I own is my shift.”

“What exactly were you hoping for, miss?”

“I don’t know,” Phoebe said miserably. “Something that would enable me to move without hindrance. Something similar to your gown.”

Lucy studied her simple, striped, wool dress. “I have one other just like this, miss. Perhaps you could use it. You’re a mite taller than me, but we’re of a similar build.” She shrugged. “We could move the pinning if we need to.”

Phoebe seized her maid’s hands. “You really would not mind?”

“No, miss. As long as Mrs. Wilson don’t need me to clean the fireplaces, I should be able to keep this one clean enough to make do until you have the other back to me.”

“I shall buy you a new one as payment for the loan,” Phoebe said. It was ridiculous that she owned more gowns than she could count and Lucy owned only two.

“No, miss. I wouldn’t want you to do that. Having my old one back when you’ve finished with it will be sufficient.”

“Please let me do this for you, Lucy.” Phoebe squeezed her maid’s hands before releasing them. “You know full well how much I enjoy shopping for new clothes. It will give me great pleasure to choose something for you.”

Lucy twisted the corner of her apron between her fingers. “Nothing fancy. Plain wool is best.”

“Of course. What color would you like?”

“Blue,” Lucy said without hesitation. “Like a robin’s egg.”

Phoebe smiled. “I shall see to it first thing next week. The gown you lend me will give the village seamstress the measurements she needs.”

“Thank you, miss. I’m sure it will be the nicest dress I’ve ever had.” She smiled shyly. “Would you like me to fetch my clothes now?”

“If you would.” Phoebe had never considered her mother’s penchant for rising late to be a blessing, but today, it was going to work in her favor. “I should like to be on my way within the half hour.”

“Very good, miss.” Lucy disappeared into the passageway.

According to the clock on the mantel, she was back—albeit slightly out of breath—four minutes later.

“Here you go. It’s not much, especially after what you’re used to, but it might do the job.” She set the simple garment on the bed. It was a striped, brown-and-white wool gown with inverted back pleats to shape the waist and a dark-colored linen petticoat beneath. “I brought my extra apron and linen kerchief in case you were wanting those as well.”

“Lucy, you are an angel,” Phoebe said. “This will be perfect. Will you help me put it on, and we shall see if any of the pins will need to be adjusted?”

The gown fit. It was about two inches too short, but in every other way, it was perfect.

Phoebe turned from the looking glass to face her maid. “What do you think?”

Lucy pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a fit of the giggles. “Oh, miss. You do look peculiar.”