Three French Hens Read Free

dignity. But neither woman seemed to hear, much less care about what she had to say, as Sabrina frowned, her eyes narrowing on Joan.
    “I have never said anyone called Thurleah a country bumpkin or said that his manners were poor,” Sabrina declared.
    “Did you not?” Joan was suddenly avoiding her cousin’s gaze. “Well, it does not matter. Someone did, and this maid can save me from all that by taking my place.”
    “Nay. She cannot,” Sabrina said firmly. “It would not work. While you are similar in looks, you are not identical. She is even an inch or two taller than you.”
    “You are right, of course. If Father were here I would never dare try it, but it’s almost providential that he fell ill and had to remain behind at court. But no one here has seen me before except for Lord Menton on the journey here, and then I was bundled up in my mantle and hood, with furs wrapped around me to keep warm. The only thing he saw was my nose poking out into the cold, and she has the same nose. The same is true of Lady Menton when we arrived. She greeted us on arrival, but ’twas only for a mere moment or two and I was still all bundled up.”
    “Mayhap, but what of the difference in height?”
    Joan shrugged. “I was on my horse most of the journey and no doubt my mantle adds some height to me. They will not notice. It will work.”
    “But she is a
peasant
, Joan. She does not know how to behave as a lady.”
    “We will teach her what she needs to know,” Joan announced blithely.
    “You expect to instill nineteen years’ worth of training into her in a matter of hours?” Sabrina gasped in disbelief.
    “Well …” The first signs of doubt played on Joan’s face. “Perhaps not in hours. We can claim that I am weary from the journey and wish to rest in my room rather than join the others below for dinner tonight. And I shall tutor her all evening.” At Sabrina’s doubtful look, she gestured impatiently. “It is not as if I must teach her to run a household or play the harp. She need only walk and talk like a lady, remember to say as little as possible, and not disgrace me. Besides she need only fool Lord Thurleah, and he could not possibly spend much time around proper ladies. He does not even go to court,” she muttered with disgust. She turned to the maid.
    “Girl?” Joan began, then frowned. “What is your name?”
    “Brinna, m’lady.”
    “Well, Brinna, will you agree to be me?” When Brinna hesitated briefly, Joan moved quickly to a chest at the foot of the bed and tossed it open. Rifling through the contents, she found a small purse, opened it, and poured out several coins. “This is half of what I promised you. Agree and I will give them to you now. I shall give you the other half when ’tis over.”
    Brinna stared at those coins and swallowed as visions of Aggie resting in a chair by the fire in a cozy cottage filled her mind. The old woman had worked hard to feed and clothe Brinna and deserved to enjoy her last days so. With the coins from this chore, she could see that shedid. And it wasn’t as if it was dangerous. Lady Joan would explain that it was her idea if they got caught, she assured herself, then quickly nodded her head before she could lose her courage.
    “Marvelous!” Grabbing her hand, Joan dropped the coins into her open palm, then folded her fingers closed over them and squeezed firmly. “Now, the first thing we must do is—”
    The three of them froze, gazes shooting guiltily to the door, as a knock sounded. At Joan’s muttered “Enter,” the door opened and Lady Christina peered in.
    “Mother sent me to see that all is well with your maid.”
    “Aye. She will do fine,” Joan said quickly, a panicked look about her face. Brinna realized at once that the girl feared that seeing them together, Lady Christina might notice the similarity in their looks and somehow put paid to her plans. There was no way to reassure her that the other girl wasn’t likely to notice such