The Perfect Royal Mistress Read Online Free PDF

their noses in the air, can be a mean lot. But I’ve heard ye, Nell, and I believe ye’ll hold your own.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Meggs!” Nell was beaming.
    “Eh, don’t be too quick to thank me. ’Tis a chance only, Nell. If ye don’t sell the fruit, I’ll toss ye out as quick as ye were ushered in, understand?”
    “I’ll not let you down. I might not even ’ave enough fruit for all I mean to sell!”
    The doors to the King’s Theater were drawn back at noon, as they were every day, and the crowd that had gathered scrambled for a place on the backless pit benches. Orange peels from the day before were scattered over the seats, covered in green felt, and strewn into the aisles. Foul-smelling men and women surged forward like a great tidal wave and, for a moment, Nell could not quite catch her breath. For the first time, she was in the very midst of all the glorious pushing and struggling for place. The theater was more magnificent inside than her mind had ever conjured, with its three-tiered interior, a middle gallery, and, above it, private boxes gilded and draped with velvet. Crowning it all, to let in light, was a glass cupola above the great apron stage protruding into the audience framed with heavy draperies and painted pictorial scenery behind.
    I am ’ere among them all! I am actually inside the King’s Theater! It was a heartbeat after the thought, a moment only, when two men wearing lace sleeves and long silk coats, one of eggshell blue, the other an opalescent ivory, clearly the fops about whom she had heard so much, bumped into her. “Watch yourself, girl!” one of them said tautly. He was gaunt faced, his lips were red and wet, and Nell could see pale powder and a small black patch on his cheek. Just as she moved to apologize, she felt the power of another man’s hand on her back.
    “Two oranges, love, and be quick about it!”
    She quickly plucked two of the prettiest pieces of fruit, then looked down into the face of a stout little man with protruding teeth and deep pox scars. In spite of how repugnant he was, Nell gave him her sweetest smile. “Best I ’ave, sir!”
    He leaned nearer, his breath smelling of gin, as he handed her the coins to pay for it. “I’ll wager those are nowhere near the best that a pretty thing like you has on offer!” His voice was lecherous, and she felt her stomach constrict as his hand, tight on her back, plummeted to the rise of her buttocks.
    “True enough! But they are the best I’ll be sellin’ to anyone ’ere!” she declared. Her charmingly wicked laugh made him smile and the little man was disarmed.
    He reached into his pocket for extra coins to tip her. “I see that is indeed my loss.”
    “Now, if all of my customers are as generous as you, sir, I fancy I’ll be a duchess before I’m a right proper lady!”
    A woman called out then, breaking the moment. “Here girl! Your sweetmeats. Let me see what you have. The offerings from the girl over there were paltry.”
    Nell fished inside the basket and pulled out one of the small pastries filled with honey and nuts. She handed it to the woman as the din of laughter and yelling around her reached a crescendo. And the play, she knew, would not begin for another hour.
    “This looks quite dreadful!” the woman sniffed. “How long ago was this made, girl?”
    “I ain’t certain, ma’am. I’ll warrant you, it tastes delicious, though!”
    “And I am going to trust an opinion from the likes of you ?”
    “Pomegranate then, perhaps?” Nell held it up. “Ripe and lovely as they come, these are.”
    “Better,” the woman declared, handing sixpence to Nell. There was no tip included.
    “ I shall take the sweetmeats.”
    The declaration had come from a young man standing behind the woman in the still-growing crush of bodies. He was handsome, Nell saw, with wavy auburn hair and kind, blue eyes. He moved forward, coins in hand. “And I would absolutely trust the opinion of this lovely girl, Lady