This draw to the duke would drive me crazy.
Well, crazier.
My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw nothing. I needed to keep seeing nothing as I moved six or seven paces to the servants’ quarters.
My gaze strayed to the end of the hall.
Nothing. No ghost. No guilty manifestations.
I snuck back into the bedchamber Jemina and I shared. She was asleep, and I settled onto my bed, wishing for Lionel to cry so I could take him into my arms.
Tomorrow, I’d have to contact Lady Shrewsbury. The Widow’s Grace needed the next phase of the plan started before it became impossible to get Lionel or myself away from Repington.
CHAPTER 14
PLANS FORMYLIONEL
Aweek of rain and snow flurries made Hamlin unbearable for me. The house abounded with restless men. Scarlet regimentals to the left and to the right, coming and going to the catacombs, slamming doors, loud talking. It was chaos except when the duke enforced nap time, Lionel’s nap time. Someone even tried to set up another tent in the grand hall, but the polite implied threat of no more coconut bread made it disappear.
I stood under the grand chandelier as another delivery arrived. Soldiers in muddy boots hoisted lumber, lots of hearty oak, through Hamlin’s entry.
Lord Gantry trotted down the stairs. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he still had a few buttons to finish on his green striped waistcoat. “Sorry, Mrs. LaCroy. I know you like a tidy house. This should be the last of the big deliveries.”
I nodded and hoped it to be true, but my heart shook when one fellow’s boards almost whacked the marble gods. Did they know the wrath that could come from awakening them?
I didn’t, either, but it had to be big.
“Sorry again, ma’am.” Lord Gantry shrugged. He smiled and escaped through the not-so-secret door to work on whatever project the duke had him doing.
I had to get into the drawing room. I was convinced that evidence against Markham was in there. Jemina and I had checked everywhere but that room.
Yet, if none was there, if nothing hung behind that mirror, then I’d go back to my strategy of getting my trust documents from the desk and booking passage to Demerara. Lady Shrewsbury would have to come up with a new plan, one showing me how to tell the duke who I was and that I’d be leaving with my son.
Deceiving the duke was now unbearable.
His bonding with Lionel, holding my baby every night, sharing with him dreams and plans, pierced so deeply into my soul. I was going to break.
Jemina came from the rear hall and joined me with her wash bucket. “These marks are going to take a bit of work. Men and their dragging boot heels.”
I dipped my rag in the sudsy water and started scrubbing.
She knelt beside me on the cold hard floor, each of us engulfed by the shadow of the grand chandelier. In a way, each of us were still imprisoned to our plights, her amnesia, mine deception.
“Nearly two weeks, Patience. We’re no closer to finding proof. Is this the big plan, to be maids?”
This was honest work for a couple of dishonest women. I shook my head. “This rain stops Repington’s army. Of course it would affect our progress.”
One of my lacy coiffed mobcaps covered my friend’s fiery curls, and she’d hemmed another of my mourning gowns to offer her a change of clothes. With me in a muted blue India print, we were the fanciest maids in the countryside.
“There’s something in the drawing room, Jemina. We have to get to it.”
“Can’t you use your influence and just ask the duke to leave the room?”
“Influence?”
“You two look mighty cozy whenever Lionel is about. The duke’s eyes follow you at dinner, don’t you know?”
“His eyes followed the basket of bread. I merely happened to carry it.”
