Ku ya!Look here! No falling to pieces. The secrets. Rally, woman! No tek yuh time an’ nuh rush di wuk. No more dallying.I had to be thorough.
The earl would be home soon. I swiped at my eyes. “Hope, you were going to show me where your father keeps secrets.”
She shook her head. “Not if you cry.” She tugged at my hair, a falling curl. “What does Pa-Papa call you?”
Brushing at my face, I put her back down on the floor. “Friend. I’m a friend.”
The little girl had a tighter grip on my hand. “Let me show you, Friend.”
Hope tugged on my breeches. “Can you ride horses? My dolly, Mrs. Feebs can’t ride my toy horses. She needs to dress like you.”
“I do ride horses, but you don’t need breeches. You can ride in a dress.”
“Show me. My dolly’s in my room. Wanna see her and play?”
There wasn’t time to and not get caught. Yet, another look into those wide eyes made it almost worth it.
“I’m supposed to play in my room, Friend.”
“But where does your father not want you to go? The kitchen, his study?”
“Not on the stairs or the study. I’m not supposed to touch his desk.”
“Hope, that sounds like a good place for secrets. You go on to your room.”
“No, I show you.” She took my hand and led me down the hall. Her balance was very unsteady. The child was at least three. Shouldn’t her legs be a little stronger?
Now, I felt worse making Ashbrook’s daughter both a witness and a fellow conspirator.
She stopped at the newel post of the stairs; a great carved pineapple topped the thick baluster.
“It’s this way, but I’m not supposed to go by myself. We need to wake up Mrs. Gallick. She’s napping in my rocking chair.”
“I can help you, baby.”
She dimpled as I picked her up.
Something changed when I held her, when she put her little face to my chest. My heart raced. I’d break into Ashbrook’s house a hundred times to hold this girl and have this feeling.
“Down the stairs, Friend.”
“Yes.” I was here for burglary not hugs.
We went and I counted all the sconces, at least six. Forgot to notice how this child drew my breath into her lungs, how her head fit right in the crook of my neck as she clutched the ribbons of my hood.
“Put me down now. Miss. Miss?”
“Friend.” I said, “I’m your friend, remember.”
That notion pleased Hope. She offered the best toothy-one-tooth-missing grin. “Down now.”
I didn’t want to, but I set her onto the floor. Wiggly, wobbly, she held her balance, then clasped my fingers.
“Papa’s study here.”
We passed a footman, but I acted calm, like I was supposed to be there, and hid beneath my cape, tugging up my breeches to show stockings.
No one moved, and soon we were safe in the study. I lifted my gaze from Hope and studied the burnished paneling, the picture window. This was the room I’d seen him pacing within from the hedgerow.
