“What are you talking about, Lady Hampton? And why do you look so disheveled? Is this what working does to women?”
When I turn back to the writing desk and the vase of those mocking yellow chrysanthemums, my eyes fill with more tears. The smell of chrysanthemums, musky and slightly peppery, reminds me of rainfall and sorrow. I want to remember the flowers in the gardens of the Winter Palace where Jahleel first kissed me.
But I can’t. I smell death.
“Lady Hampton, I need an explanation.”
“What?” Throat closing, I put my back to the princess and fight for my voice. “What have I done wrong now?”
“You’ve returned late to Anya House.”
“I’m unaware of a curfew.”
Her footfalls sound closer. “Lady Lydia was anxious. I don’t want her upset.”
Does this woman think I want my daughter under any strain? “I was able to see her. She showed me St. Petersburg on the map. Where you and Jahleel will take my child.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me, Lady Hampton?”
“No reason.”
“It is bad enough that you work—” She spins me around and stares.
Swiping at my eyes, I say, “I run my father’s company. Everyone does their part. A driver didn’t show. No one else wasavailable. I’ll not disappoint a customer like I have everyone else in my life.”
She tows me to the mirror. “Who did you disappoint to get this?”
In the candlelight, I witness my bruises up close. “A cosmetic will hide it.”
“Who did this to you? Do you have another lover? Is he beating you?” She glares at me. “I don’t care what has happened. No man should ever put his hands on a woman.”
“No one is beating me.” My chest hurts. “I have no lover. No one at all.”
The woman folds her arms. “Then these bruises weren’t from a man?”
“I was pelted with rocks. People think I’ve come to defraud or corrupt the men of Mayfair.”
“Nyet. You just defraud the ones from St. Petersburg.”
“Jahleel knows everything now. And he knows why. I was trying to protect Lydia and my family.”
“And yourself. You keep trying to forget that, until they throw stones.”
Unable to figure out if she’s being understanding or just laying a new trap to humiliate me, I trudge away to the closet.
“Augh.” I cover my mouth. “There are new fancy gowns in here. Nothing of my own, not one thing.”
“You should change into something that doesn’t smell of rot. Something with no stains.”
How could she smell anything in this room of funeral flowers? “These frocks are for parties, not to go and read to the duke.”
“Katherine, do I need to send for one of the Carews? That sister of yours can fix you.”
The princess seems sort of kind. It’s a trick. A trap to prove again how unworthy I am. “There’s no fixing anything. I’m beyond helping.”
She grabs my shoulder. “I want the truth! Why are you filthy?”
“Princess Elizaveta, I told you the truth. I drove a route andfound servants standing in my path. They threw rocks and eggs while others chanted ‘Jezebel.’”
