“Why were you climbing out of that window in the middle of the night?”
She considered this. “Because I couldn’t remain where I was a moment longer.”
After a moment, his smile appeared again, that white flash in the dark. He gave a short laugh. But it sounded almost like approbation.
The rain was falling faster now, the drops larger and messily splatting, as if the sheer weight of it was tearing a rent in the sky wider and wider.
“I’ve a question for you, sir.” Though her voice was stronger now, it still wobbled.
“Very well.”
“Are you, in fact, a lord?”
He paused.
“What doyouthink, luv?” he said ironically.
She didn’t dare say what she thought.
And after a moment he said: “Shall we?”
For the second time that evening, she moved away from the wall and toward him, and it felt nearly the same as leaping from a crate.
Chapter Two
The little white building glowed like a candle flame among all the low dark ones crouching around it.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed.
Those were the first words either of them had uttered for one hundred feet. She had a feeling they were both invested in a certain anonymity, for reasons of their own.
The lamp hadn’t yet been taken in from its hook. It was miraculously still burning, even as the flame juddered. Her escort leaned his head back in an attempt to read the sign, which was impossible, as it was dancing and twisting on its chains in the winds.
Daphne rapped on the door.
She jumped backward when something hit the door with a soft thud from the opposite side.
There was a sound of a scuffle and a male expostulating.
The peep hatch flew open.
A large, pale eye appeared, blinked, then inspected them.
“Good evening.” The owner of the eye sounded a little winded, if cheerful. “Welcome to The Grand Palace on the Thames. What can we do for you?”
Daphne found the young woman’s voice—the cadences of a good servant in a fine household—very reassuring.
“Good evening,” Daphne said in her best Lady of the Manor voice. “We’re hoping you’ve rooms to let. I saw your advertisement and it seemed very clear that this is a fine establishment, indeed.”
“Oh, howlovely!” The young woman sounded genuinely delighted. “You’ll want to have a chat with our proprietresses, Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Durand. As we’re very exclusive, you see.”
There ensued the scrape of a bolt being shot, and the door swung open upon paradise: a black-and-white marble foyer shining beneath a chandelier dripping with crystals. Blessed warmth rushed out and embraced them as though they were prodigal family.
They were ushered in by a young woman wearing a white cap which had tipped sideways on her blond head, as if she’d just collided with something.
Behind her stood a tall young man wearing understated blue livery and a harried expression. Both of them sported flushed cheeks.
“My name is Dot.”
