The halls with their echoes catching the purring of my syllables—never sounding proper enough.
Never. Never. Never. Enough.
“Jemina, I’m here, and I’m going to win this time.”
Lady Shrewsbury joined us. “Ladies,” she said as she adjusted her large straw bonnet bearing a blush pink ribbon, “it’s time to put our next act into motion.”
She gathered our palms together. The woman was elegant in bishop-blue gloves and a deep violet carriage gown appointed with military-style brass buttons.
The countess dressed as a lady. Jemina and I wore the costumes of servants.
I stopped fretting, stopped lading my shoulders with coconuts and boulders and doubts and listened to Lady Shrewsbury’s prayer.
“The holy habitation is the protector of widows, providing relief and favor. This is the widow’s grace.” She clasped our hands and led our aproned and mobcap brigade up the stairs. “Now, we win.”
The doors opened before she knocked. A guard, a fellow in a regimental-red military uniform answered holding a gun in his hand. He lowered it. “How did you get past the guards at the gates?”
“Never mind that, young man. We’ve come to see the Duke of Repington. I’m an old friend, and he’s in dire need of our services.”
The guard lowered his flintlock. “The commander has not mentioned visitors. Return later.”
“Tell him Lady Shrewsbury is here. He’ll see me.”
“Let me ask.” The man closed the door with a thud.
I folded my arms under my shawl, hiding my fists. “He didn’t even think of leading us to the drawing room. Colin had his visitors meet there, not that he’d want me in there.”
A flash of my husband’s last visit, late summer. A few weeks before I last saw him, he and Markham argued with a man in there. I’d never heard Colin raise his voice. Such words, so rude.
“This soldier was r-rude.”
My purring mouth, I swiped at it. “The first guard had better manners.”
“That fellow I knew,” the countess said. “I helped the man’s sister with a little paperwork. The impact of the Widow’s Grace is wide.”
Jemina clasped my elbow. “Patience, you’re shaking.”
I was, and no amount of knitted threads could hide it. “We’re so close to Lionel. Now this scrutiny and having to be so careful.”
Lady Shrewsbury brushed my shoulder. “You need to calm yourself. We must impress the duke.”
Another man set to judge me. I nodded and found a smile, a begrudged tug of my tight lips.
The door opened again. “The duke will meet with you at ten o’clock. Return then.”
“That’s two hours from now,” Lady Shrewsbury said. “That’s unaccept—”
A baby’s loud cry.
Lionel’s cry.
He wailed for a moment, then stopped like something muzzled his mouth.
I edged forward, but the countess gripped the sleeve of my gown. Her hold was the only thing keeping me from dashing inside.
“Young man,” the countess said, “how long has the baby been crying? I have a nanny here who can help.”
“Ma’am,” the soldier said. “It’s off and on. He’s just picked that racket up again thirty minutes ago.”
