The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl Read Online Free PDF

turn her down if she seemed to be a prospect worse than poverty.
    “Yes, Father.” She cranked her lips into the stickiest smile she could muster and batted her eyelashes at the old gentleman, who sighed with exasperation in return.
    “Lady Vadnay, I believe I have the pleasure of this dance?” He was the tall dark one with the best suit. He smelled of expensive hair oils and foreign fabrics. Jean Delacourte was the obvious choice for her as a spouse. His family was well known for their long line of prestigious blood and excellent money management skills. (Not one gambler born in over ten generations!) Their excellent bone structure and grooming tied the package up with a neat little bow any girl would be swooning to receive. The only problem that Marguerite could see with the whole family, Jean in particular, was that they were well aware of their beauty, money, and overall appeal to the masses.
    This combination repelled Marguerite. She’d never been impressed by other people’s money. She had plenty of her own. She couldn’t care less about a person’s family roots, and she had noticed that the more self-involved a person was the more dull their conversations tended to be.
    “Yes, Sir Delacourte, I believe you do.”
    He bowed deeply to Marguerite and then to her father and expertly led her to the dance floor. They whirled and dipped in perfect time to the modern music that could barely be heard over Delacourte’s ramblings.
    “This is a lovely party. My father threw one similar to this for my sister just a month ago. Of course you wouldn’t have been allowed to attend, being under age, but it was quite resplendent. My family spared no expense, had the latest of everything flown in from Paris. We didn’t, however, extend ourselves to buffet- style refreshments, or this form of music. The finest classical group in Vienna was retained for the evening’s dancing. There were also morels from Spain and my sister’s dress was handmade in the Middle East by the most skilled of Persian silk weavers. My father has recently invested in a shipping company that deals only in the finest of silk. They say that the best weavers are maidens between the ages of eight and fifteen—smaller fingers and less to take their minds off their delicate work … ”
    He may be as boring as math with Pomphart, but Marguerite had to give him this much: he knew how to dance. Too bad she couldn’t get him to stop talking so she could enjoy it.
    “Your father has an odd collection of … er … serving dishes.” He suddenly faltered in his monologue.
    “Yes, he’s quite fond of the work of smithies and all sorts of modern inventions.” She enjoyed having a jump on Delacourte’s silence. She was proud of her father’s oddities. “You should see the upper halls sometime, we have quite a lovely collection of modern weaponry.”
    Delacourte coughed a bit at her bold statement. “I’m surprised that you would find interest in such a topic as weapons.”
    “And why is that? I walk past them at least ten times every day; they are shining and bright, of excellent craftsmanship, almost like curious gemstones, and women are quite interested in gemstones. A dual-purpose gem seems to be just what a woman would fancy the most.” She smiled up at him wickedly waiting for his reply. Oh, if only Madame Pomphart could hear her now.
    Marguerite didn’t think it was possible, but Delacourte pushed his nose farther in the air and looked past the top of her head to the outlying crowd. “Ladies of means and good breeding are not concerned with the likes of war and fighting. Those are the concerns of men.”
    She’d predicted a diatribe like this, but actually found it a bit of a disappointment. She secretly hoped to coax more than the lecture of a nursemaid from this highly cultured young man. He finished with another stunner: “Men of the military, to be exact.”
    A deep voice cut through just in time. “I suppose men of the military are only