Chapter1
Bath, England
1819
Lady Marianna Mayfield sat at her dressing table—clothed, curled, and powdered. She feigned interest in her reflection in the mirror, but in reality, she watched the housemaid behind her, packing away every last one of her belongings.
Early that morning, Sir John had come to her room and announced they were leaving Bath that very day. He refused to tell her where they were going, fearful she would somehow get word to Anthony Fontaine. Nor was he allowing her to bring any of the servants, who would of course wish to know where they were headed, and might let slip their destination.
Marianna’s stomach clenched. Did he really think another move would stop her? Stophim?
She shot to her feet and stalked to the window. Pulling back the gauzy drapery, she frowned. There in the rear mews, the groom and coachman prepared the new carriage for departure—replacing the long, spring-loaded candles in its brass lamps, then inspecting the wheels and harnesses.
Now she knew why he had ordered a traveling chariot,custom-built for long journeys. It was an expensive equipage, but a man like Sir John Mayfield would not blink at the cost. Not when he was determined to steal away with her, and leave any would-be followers behind.
Anthony will find me.Of course he would. He had done so easily the last time they’d moved, to take a house here in Bath. Even so, she wished he might return early from London, before they departed. Perhaps he would finally stand up to Sir John, tell him what he could do with his futile scheme, and end this farce of a marriage once and for all.
A knock sounded on the open door. Frown still in place, she glanced over, expecting Sir John with another edict.
Instead, the butler, Hopkins, stood there. “A caller for you, your ladyship.”
Marianna’s heart leapt.
“It is Miss Rogers,” he added. “Are you at home, or shall I send her away?”
Marianna’s momentary elation deflated, but not completely.
“Heavens no, don’t send her away. Show her into the morning room.”
“Very good, your ladyship.” Hopkins bowed and departed.
The arrival of her former companion was certainly a surprise, considering how abruptly Hannah Rogers had left their employ more than half a year before—but not an unhappy surprise. Glancing at her empty drawers and wardrobe with a sinking heart, Marianna left her bedchamber and made her way downstairs.
A familiar willowy figure rose at her entrance, assailing Marianna with waves of nostalgic fondness—followed by a sting of betrayal that the woman had left without a word. She swallowed the bitter lump and began, “Hannah! My goodness. I never expected to see you again.”
The young woman met her gaze, expression tense. “My lady.”
Marianna sent her a bright smile. “You’re a godsend, an absolute godsend—if I believed in such things. What timing! That you should come back now.”
Hannah Rogers clasped her hands tightly and lowered her eyes. “I ... I never received my final allowance.”
Companions received a modest salary referred to as an allowance instead of vulgar “wages.” Marianna had not expected the belated request, but didn’t quibble.
“Of course you should have it. I never understood why you left without collecting your due.” She rang a bell on the side table and Hopkins reappeared.
“Ask Mr. Ward to bring in Miss Rogers’s remaining allowance, if you please.”
When the butler left the room, Marianna turned back to Hannah and asked, “How have you been keeping?”
“Oh...” Miss Rogers formed a tenuous smile. “Well enough, thank you.”
Unconvinced, Marianna sat and studied her, taking in the wary eyes, pale skin, and sharp cheekbones—the hollows beneath more noticeable than she remembered.
“You appear in good health,” Marianna allowed. “If a little tired. And thin.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Please, be seated. I would offer you refreshment, but Sir John has seen fit to dismiss most of the servants already. We are down to Hopkins, Mr. Ward, and one maid.”
