When I learned that you were widowed, I already had plans to go to India. I was afraid my feelings might not have been returned. Now that I am here, I regret my decision to leave. I am coming back to London. I plan to arrive no later than the middle of September of this year in the hopes that we might soon marry. I hope to find you there.
With all of my heart,
Miles
The letter had been delivered to the dower house of my late husband’s estate where I had spent the last year watching helplessly as the baron’s land suffered. The letter summarized my dreams. Miles, the only man I had ever loved, was returning to London after two years, and he wanted to marry me. The thought still flooded my heart with giddiness. He was my only source of hope. In a few short weeks, we would be reunited. Lady Tottenham’s house party had seemed the perfect distraction and place of financial respite, though her strange notes were making me question my decision.
My eyes stung, begging for sleep, but I didn’t have a choice. I groaned and reached for the bell pull.
The speed at which my maid arrived at my door was highly suspicious. Had she been waiting in the corridor? Jane gave a curtsy as she advanced into the room to help me back into my rigid lilac gown. She was the most petite woman I had ever seen, likely not older than sixteen, with rosy cheeks and dark curls like my own. She looked particularly miniature standing beside me in the looking glass as she laced my stays. The top of her head barely reached my shoulder.
I caught her gaze in the reflection. “Do you…happen to know anything about this secret parlor game?” My voice was a scratchy whisper. I didn’t dare speak any louder.
Her eyes flitted to the floor. Her lips pressed together, and I could tell there was a lie hiding behind them. “I’ve never ‘eard of such a thing.” She unraveled my braid in silence and began pinning up the curls.
My stomach formed a knot. I swallowed hard against the worry rising in my throat.
She arranged my hair in a simple coiffure before taking her leave. Her rushed movements must have been due to Lady Tottenham’s instruction.
My heart thudded as I sneaked out into the corridor behind Jane. But she was already gone, vanished somewhere between the pockets of candlelight. The sconces flickered on the dark paneled walls. Intricate faces carved in the wood stared back at me. I gulped.
As I approached the staircase leading down to the ground floor, the sound of chattering voices and laughter drifted up from the parlor. The tension in my shoulders relaxed slightly. Had all of the guests been invited? It would come as a relief if I knew I hadn’t been singled out.
A creaking sound came from my left, cutting through the faint voices from below. I jumped, my hand flying to the bannister. I gripped it tight as I noticed the open door that had caused the sound.
And I nearly stumbled down the first stair when I noticed what wasbeyondthe open door.
A man stood with one hand on the frame, the other on the brass door knob. His dark hair was mussed, a shadow of stubble covering the lower half of his face. He blinked in confusion, as if he had just been jostled awake. All he wore was a pair of dark knee breeches slung low across his hips, his chest and abdomen fully displayed in the candle light.
I averted my gaze, my neck growing hot. Whoever that man was, I hadn’t seen him amongst the other twelve guests at dinner. Of course his surprising state of undress had pulled my attention away from his face, but I didn’t dare take another look.
I rushed to turn around, fully intent to pretend I hadn’t seen him. The secret parlor game was suddenly far more inviting.
“Am I missing a party?” The man’s voice echoed in the corridor.
My feet froze. I kept my gaze fixed on the stairs ahead. “No.”
He was silent for a few seconds.
One particularly loud laugh drifted up from the parlor and betrayed me.
“There are people downstairs and you are about to join them,” the man said with a hint of accusation. “Obviously I am missing something.”
“Yes, you are.” I glanced back at his face, unable to hide my dismay. “Your shirt.”
The dazed look cleared from his eyes as they met mine. He looked down at his chest. Had he only just realized he wasn’t fully clothed? Half his mouth quirked upward. “Forgive me. I didn’t think there would be a lady sneaking about the corridor at this hour.” He shielded himself with the door, leaving just his head and one shoulder peeking through. Somehow, he didn’t seem embarrassed at all. His smile persisted.
My gloved fingers held tight to the bannister. “Did you not receive a letter under your door this evening?”
He took a step back and examined the floor. “No.”
“Then it would seem Lady Tottenham did not invite you.”
He frowned. “That isn’t very…hospitable.”
His face was somewhat familiar now, though I couldn’t place it. His features each paid a compliment to the other, creating a harmonious face that anyone would call handsome. Dark eyes, dark brows, tousled dark waves. He looked younger than most of the men at the house party—perhaps even younger than me by a small number of years. At twenty-nine, I wasn’t a youthful blossom anymore. I was an aged widow for all of society to pity.
Awkwardness hung in the air as he continued standing in the doorway, curious eyes fixed on me. My best guess was that he had arrived late and missed the events and introductions from earlier in the evening. We should not have been speaking without an introduction, but I had quickly discovered that entering Lady Tottenham’s house was like entering an cage where the rules of society no longer existed. It was surreal and disquieting to say the least.
