I opened the bedroom door and looked out at the gallery. There was no one in sight, so I quickly left the room and closedthe door behind me. It would be chilly without a shawl, but I didn’t want to risk taking anything else from Mrs. Hill.
The next decision I had to make was which door I would use to leave the house. There was a greater chance of being discovered if I went out the servants’ entrance—and I had no idea how to find it. So, I decided to use the front door—though I had no idea where that might be, either.
I crossed the upper gallery on slippered feet, marveling at the plush carpet beneath me, and went to the grand staircase. Surely the front door had to be somewhere near the stairs.
As I rounded the corner and began to descend—I paused.
Mr. Paxton-Hill was on his way up.
He stopped and his gaze was filled with surprise—and perhaps a bit of wonder.
“Miss O’Day?” he asked, frowning.
Dread filled me at being caught. What would he think when he learned I was leaving?
Slowly, he started up the stairs again, and I couldn’t help but back up. I clasped my hands together, uncertain what to say—afraid of what he might say.
He stopped at the top of the stairs, taking me in from the hem of my yellow gown to the top of my hair. Gallagher had brushed the curls until they shone and then styled them gracefully atop my head.
“You—” He paused, as if trying to find the right words.
“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing toward my bedroom door.
He was still staring at me. “You look lovely, Miss O’Day.”
I glanced down at the gown, my cheeks getting warm at his compliment. “Thank you.”
“Are you in need of something?” he asked. “Can I be of service?”
I nervously played with a ribbon on my gown as I glanced toward the stairs. Did I tell him the truth? I had to say something.
He studied me and I realized that he, unlike Mrs. Hill, had given me several choices in the past twenty-four hours. Nothing he had said or done would indicate whether he would try to dictate my actions. Perhaps he would even help me.
“I left somethin’ at home,” I told him. “Somethin’ important to me. And I should tell me aunt and uncle what has become o’ me.”
He blinked in surprise. “You haven’t told them?”
“How could I?”
“I hadn’t even realized. Yes. You should tell them—immediately. They’ll be worried about you, I’m sure.”
Maybe not worried—but curious, at least.
“I’ll accompany you,” he said.
I shook my head, imagining what might happen to Mr. Paxton-Hill if he walked down Mulberry Street in that expensive suitcoat as darkness fell.
“Please,” he said, “allow me to do this. I’ll have the carriage brought around.”
“No.” I continued to shake my head. “I’ve been goin’ home me whole life—alone.”
“But now you have a—” He paused, as if surprised at his own realization. “A cousin to see to your welfare.”
I had a cousin—Sean—who would be better suited to my welfare in Five Points than this dandy.
“Allow me the honor, Miss O’Day.”
“Honor? To go to Five Points?” I might have laughed if he wasn’t so serious—and kind.
