A Rogue of My Own Read Free Page A

from that direction.
    Still half-asleep, Rebecca thoughtlessly replied, “That’s what curtains are for.”
    “Curtains, no,” the lady disagreed in the same sharp tone. “Thick drapes possibly, but we can’t reach the bloody pulls for drapes, can we? If we had some, which we don’t.”
    Rebecca was quickly waking up. The lady really was angry and not even trying to hide it. About something this trivial?
    Rebecca sat up and frowned at the window that was causing such offense. This was not a good start if this was Lady Elizabeth, and she had no doubt that it was.
    “I could tack a petticoat over the window before retiring and remove it after you awake in the morning?” she offered. “I’m sorry, but daylight has never woken me so I don’t think of it as a nuisance. Lighting lamps in this room when daylight can stream in seems rather silly.”
    She probably shouldn’t have added that, because the young woman turned away from the wardrobes and glared at her. “Then you’ve never slept in a room with windows that face the sunrise, have you?”
    Rebecca flinched inwardly. “No, I can’t say that I have, andyou’ve definitely made your point. I will be sure to rectify the problem.”
    When Rebecca stood up, she towered over the shorter girl. Like her mother, she was rather tall at five feet nine inches. She took after her mother in most things, actually. Both of them were slim yet curved nicely where they ought to be. Both were blond, though she might have gotten the golden shade of her hair from her father, since Lilly was a much lighter ash blond. She had her mother’s blue eyes, too, though Rebecca’s were a darker shade of blue. But they both had high cheekbones, a patrician nose, and a gently curved, firm chin, all of which Rebecca was grateful for, since Lilly was considered quite a beautiful woman.
    Rebecca smiled, making an effort at a new start. “Lady Elizabeth, I presume?”
    “Yes, and you are—?”
    The young woman’s tone was still stiff and somewhat imperious. Rebecca found it hard to believe that Elizabeth hadn’t been informed who her new roommate would be.
    “Lady Rebecca Anne Victoria Marshall.”
    She almost blushed. She rarely mentioned her middle names when she met people. Her family and friends merely called her Becky, though her mother was known to call her Becky Anne when she was delivering a scolding. Rebecca was sure her parents simply hadn’t been able to make up their minds about her name, which is why she’d ended up with so many. But she had no idea why she’d just given them all to her roommate. Possibly because she already suspected they were not going to be friends. Which was too bad. They were going to be sharing a bed, for goodness’ sake. They needed at least to be cordial.
    “Named after the queen, were you? How droll,” Elizabeth remarked before she marched over to one of her wardrobes and yanked open the door.
    Perversely, Rebecca was delighted that it was now her wardrobe and said, “No, actually, she wasn’t the queen at the time nor even in a close running when I was born. You, however, share your name with many queens. Do you find that droll, too?”
    Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have touched my belongings. Don’t do it again.”
    “You weren’t here—”
    “The arrangement was perfect as it was.”
    Rebecca choked back a laugh at that petulant reply. “No, I beg to differ, it wasn’t even close to equal. It still isn’t. We left you the extra two wardrobes.”
    Elizabeth apparently wasn’t grateful for the boon. She didn’t even acknowledge it and instead inquired, “We?”
    “My maid and I.”
    “Your maid got a room here?” Elizabeth swung back around with a gasp. “How did you manage that?”
    “I didn’t, and, no, she didn’t. We—”
    “Ah, you have a town house,” Elizabeth cut in. “My family doesn’t have one, so my maid had to stay at home. But if you have a house in London, why don’t you use it