Mira had been given a room in a completely different wing. When she'd stood in it earlier, she'd gasped.
The room was yellow and gold, papered with delightful Chinese wallpaper, and the entire front of the windows looked out onto the main lawn of the house. She had the fountain and the lake at her feet. It was an astonishing sight. Her bedroom had a flight of four adjoining rooms: a morning room, a dressing room and, most charming of all, a lovely little connecting room with a mahogany desk, a small sofa, and a bookshelf full of books. These were rooms fit for a queen.
"It's somewhat big for a guest room, is it not?" Mira asked doubtfully.
Rose's hand travelled over the fine damask of the bedspread. "This is not a guest room," she said slowly. "It looks like one of the master bedrooms." She walked over to the door, but it was locked. "I wonder whether this is the connecting door to the master's room."
She turned to Mira, her eyes wide. "We've got it all terribly, terribly wrong!"
"What do you mean?"
She raised a hand and pointed a finger at her. "It's not me he wants. It's you."
Mira wantednothing to do with any of this.
The strange people, the even stranger house.
Never mind the money. Never mind Rose, who'd clung to her, begging her to stay.
She'd saved enough to take a mail coach. She was going home.
Mira had thrown on her coat and was trying to tie her bonnet as she hurried down the broad staircase and out into the street.
She would have to follow the drive until she reached the great arched gateway a few miles from here, for it was a vast estate. She'd go to the little village, and surely it would be possible to catch a coach from the inn.
Mira marched along the drive, muttering, "Crazy people."
Of course, after Rose had mentioned it, it all came together.
The opera.
Rose fainting, and Mira taking her seat in the front.
Princess Florentina appearing in her box.
The invitation.
It had been for her, not Rose.
It was a bit strange, though, that the marquess would use Princess Florentina to catch his lady loves. But who knew, maybe this too was one of the peculiar ways of the nobles these days.
It must be some kind of strange game they were playing, in which they were all complicit. Much like hunting prey. It was cruel, and altogether evil.
Well, she would not play. She would rather roast in Hades than be seduced by a nobleman and become his mistress.
Master bedroom with a connecting door, indeed!
Mira sniffed.
She stepped into a puddle of cold sleet and felt the water seep into her thin boots.
The gate was still a long way off. To the left was another, narrower path leading off to the side.
Beyond it were the outbuildings, stables, and coach houses.
Surely there was another way out of the huge estate that did not cut through the main park, for the servants needed to be able to get in and out quickly.
A carriage stood outside the stables, horses neighing.
