“I am not a servant! I am Lady Celine Hasket, Marquise of Rycliffe, and you will speak to me with the respect I am due.”
Instantly, my spine hardened to steel. Adriane was still on the bench, no worse than she had been this morning. Instinctively, my hand fell to the hilt of my sword as I scanned for Gabriel.
When had he married? Why had he married? And this bit of muslin? How had he entered the country without my knowledge?
“Where is he?” I bit out.
“Who?”
“Hasket! Where is he?”
Behind me, Adriane let out a trill of the blackguard’s name. My stomach sank, even as I surveyed the landscape for the rake.
“London,” Lady what’s-her-name answered in a choked whisper.
London, days away. There may still be time to pack up. Time to get away before he returned and nothing in the world couldkeep Adriane from him. The weather had been warm for March, but wet. Roads would be slower for mud.
“How long?”
“A few more days, perhaps a week.”
Time, enough time. Which direction? North, perhaps? He was unlikely to go north. But London would be easier to find work. Perhaps if he never learned of our presence and Adriane never learned of his…
“You never saw us. Do you understand?” Our gazes met as I willed her to understand the seriousness of my direction.
I shouldn’t leave her here. It was too risky… But she had helped Adriane. Perhaps she did not know. Perhaps she was a prisoner in her marriage, only throwing his name about when she was frightened.
I turned back to Adriane, urging her to stand. She let out another wordless cry but permitted me to fold her in my arms and carry her back to the house. Later she would fight, desperate to see her beloved Gabriel. But for those few minutes, her frail form wrapped in my arms, I could pretend I was the one she wanted.
As I stood there aloneon the balcony, reliving one of my worst memories in a sea that ranged from bad to hellish, the heavens decided to increase my misery. They erupted.
Within moments, I was soaked through to my skin. The idea of returning to the ballroom was made even more unpalatable than it had been seconds before.
The garden below was not so terribly far—a foot, perhaps two. The balcony was more to deter patrons from doing precisely what I was contemplating. Not allowing any further time forconsideration, I hoisted myself up and over the railing. Landing on too-old knees, I crushed a few of the fragrant purple flowers beneath my feet.
I had undercharged Ainsley and Wayland when they first opened because I liked them. They could repay me by not hassling me about the flowers.
Free from the trappings of the masquerade, I made my way quickly through the London night. The streets had emptied in the downpour. At last, I made it back to the little apartment above my office.
With a reverence it did not deserve, I set the petite gold mask on the dining table before flinging my wet things into a corner to deal with on the morrow.
Too tired, and too distracted, I didn’t bother to dress for bed or close the curtains. Instead, I flopped on the mattress in a thoroughly undignified manner. Then, I memorized the ceiling.
I could just make out a few little rainbows swirling there on the shadowed plaster. It was an effect of carriages driving past the lamps that poured through my uncovered window. They illuminated the farthest corner the same way the sun usually did at dawn.
And then I understood what Adriane had spent all those years babbling on about—the sun, moon, stars, and the play of the light.
I fell asleep trying to determine whether that thought was comforting or entirely horrifying.
Consciousness left me before I could make a decision.
Seven
CADIEUX HOUSE, LONDON - JUNE 6, 1816
CELINE
The servants would wake soon.I needed to set my study to rights before that happened. I needed to change out of my gown. I needed to stand, to move off the hard wood floor. I needed to do anything but stare at the old slip of parchment.
