If she waited until morning, the courage would be gone. Dissolved into tea and toast and the farce of civility and propriety.
She was almost there.
Kitty turned into the east corridor, her steps quicker now. She passed a narrow table with a vase on it—red and gold, garish in daylight but now just a dull silhouette. The doors on either side were shut, shadows pressing against the gaps beneath them. Everything smelled like candle wax and old wood.
She was nearly at Norman’s door when she heard the muffled sound of hurried footsteps behind her. Kitty froze, heart leaping to her throat.
She turned sharply, her dressing gown swirling about her ankles—and caught sight of two familiar figures rounding the corner into the east wing.
Richard and Jane.
What on earth is Jane doing in the men’s corridor?
She ducked instinctively into the nearest shadowed alcove, pressing herself against the cool wood paneling, heart hammering against her ribs. The corridor was dim, lit only by the faint spill of moonlight through the high windows. She held her breath as they approached, speaking in low, urgent whispers.
“I thought I heard something,” Jane whispered, breathless.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Richard said, glancing over his shoulder. “Someone could have seen you.”
“I was afraid you’d do something foolish.”
“I’ve already done something foolish,” he muttered.
Kitty’s breath caught as she pressed herself deeper into the shadows.
Richard’s tone was low, anguished. “If anyone finds out?—”
“…wandering into... trouble,” Jane added, her voice thick with some emotion Kitty couldn’t name.
Kitty’s brows knit together.Trouble?Who?Her?Norman?
There was a brief silence, filled only by the distant creak of the ship’s timbers shifting against the wind. Then Richard sighed, a sound pulled from somewhere deep and weary.
Kitty pressed her palm flat against the paneling to steady herself. The conversation felt heavy, private—something not meant for her ears. And yet she remained rooted to the spot, a peculiar mixture of guilt, confusion, and something else blooming in her chest.
Were they... patrolling? Guarding her? As if she were some reckless child prone to leaping from balconies or dueling in moonlit gardens?
She might have laughed at the thought—if it didn’t feel so ridiculously over-the-top.
Before she could listen further, Richard shifted, glancing down the hallway. His gaze skimmed perilously close to her hiding place.
Panic jolted her into motion.
Moving swiftly and silently as she could, Kitty slipped away, skirts brushing lightly over the floor, breath catching in her throat.
She didn’t stop until she reached the door of her bedchamber.
Only when she was safely behind it, the heavy oak door firmly closed, did she allow herself to breathe.
She would deal with Norman another time. Tonight, it seemed, her own family had already decided her fate—or at least, they thought they could.
The moonlight spilled across the floor in silver ribbons, stark against the darkened room.
Kitty slipped into bed, pulling the covers high over her head, trying to block out the memory of whispered voices in the dark.
Tomorrow was another day. Another chance.
But tonight, she would lie awake wondering just how much of her life was being plotted without her knowledge.
