She’d not only defied her father but no doubt enraged him.
He’d be furious with her, as well as any person who might have assisted her…
Shaking her head, she turned to face the baron. “You must set me down. Tell your driver to stop. If my father realizes that you’ve helped me—”
“You’re coming home with me,” he grumbled, and then after a moment, added, “For now.” His response was a confusing one. Not only because of his tone but because only a few moments before, he’d wanted her out of his carriage.
Nia stared down at her hands. Had she always been this helpless? She had no money, no friends. Nothing. The dire nature of her circumstances washed over her and she swallowed a sob.
If she were to return to her father’s house, what would she face there?
“I don’t want to cause you anymore—”
“You don’t need to figure everything out this minute.” His words, spoken out of irritation more than anything, nonetheless had her swallowing yet another sob. “But I have one rule.”
A rule? “What is it?” she asked. She was in no position to argue.
“No more crying.”
Nia blinked. In exchange for his help, she’d do almost anything. “Understood.”
* * *
Half an hour later, having been led through the servants’ entrance and into a small bed-chamber set behind the kitchen, Nia realized that the Baron of Westcott was… hiding her.
Which made perfect sense in all aspects but unsettled her nonetheless. She’d existed under her father’s thumb all her life, but that thumb had been a ducal one and her presence had never before been a liability.
But, of course, keeping her hidden was best for the baron.
Immediately upon stepping into the kitchen, Lord Westcott handed her off to his housekeeper, Mrs. Charles, a soft, round woman who looked to be in her late forties or possibly her fifties. She wore a white apron over a serviceable gray gown, and her hair was pinned into a tidy chignon at the back of her neck.
The baron had introduced Nia as Miss Smith, an unexpected guest who was also a distant cousin. Before excusing himself, he’d sent his employee a meaningful look.
The look, Nia decided, had demanded discretion.
“Such a lovely gown,” Mrs. Charles, who was fussing with Nia’s drooping sleeves, announced once the two of them were in private. “Turn around and I’ll undo your laces. Hmm… ‘Tis a shame you’ve torn it, but I can stitch that right up, and I’m thinking I can remove this stain with some lemon juice and salt.”
Nia found the housekeeper’s rambling oddly soothing. “There now. Here’s a dressing gown for you to wear while I have a hot bath made up. There is a basin in the room next door, so you don’t have to worry about being… disturbed while it’s readied. And once you’ve had your bath, you can have a proper laydown. His Lordship can cool his heels to visit with you until you’ve recovered from your ordeal. Perhaps at dinner…”
Mrs. Charles kept right on talking as she assisted Nia out of the bedraggled gown. She then ordered Nia to sit, unpinned Nia’s hair, and began running a brush through it.
“Bit of a tangle back here,” Mrs. Charles commented with a gentle but determined tug. “Such a beautiful color, like spun gold.” The woman was being so very kind to her, and Nia actually found herself relaxing.
“I’m not really a distant cousin,” she confessed. Nia had little practice with deception and felt the housekeeper could be trusted. And without her sister or even her mother, she needed to confide in someone! Someone who was not a notorious Mayfair rake, that was.
She just needed reassurance.
“My name isn’t even Miss Smith,” she added.
“Oh, I know who you are. Got a bit of cold feet this morning, eh, my lady?” The housekeeper winked at Nia’s reflection in the mirror.
“You know—?”
“Goodness, yes. News of your nuptials has been on the front page of the Gazette for weeks now. That, on the heels of your sister’s recent marriage, and that nasty business with your former fiancé.”
Who’d been related to Goldie’s husband, the Earl of Standish now.
The same fire that had taken Lord Rupert’s life had taken three other members of the aristocratic family. At the time, many amongst the ton had suspected the new earl of setting it, and when Goldie married him, she’d done so against their father’s wishes.
