The sound was relentless, invading Clara’s slumber until she forced her eyes open. She had expected it to still be dark. Instead, daylight streamed through the gaps in the curtains.
She swung her legs out of bed, feeling slightly unsteady. What hour was it? She drew back the curtain, shielding her eyes against the sun, and saw the source of the sound at once. A red-crested bird sat on the windowsill, tapping insistently against the glass.
She remembered now. The previous morning, she had put out a few crumbs from breakfast, and it seemed the little fellow had returned demanding more.
She opened the window and looked at him. He did not retreat even when she leaned her head out. “Hello, little fellow. I havenothing for you yet. When you return later, I shall bring up some crumbs.”
He dipped his head left and right then fluttered away, apparently understanding her perfectly well and not at all pleased with the answer.
“I shall have to tell Julian about you,” she said to herself and laughed quietly. “Perhaps we ought to make some allowance for extra bird food.”
And then, as though it had been waiting for the smallest opening, her heart leapt. The kiss. They had kissed, and he had not pulled away from it afterwards, had not gone cold the way he always did. They had sat together on the balcony for some time after, hands clasped, neither of them in any hurry to go inside. She’d rested her head against his shoulder, and they’d looked at the sky together, naming the stars.
What did it mean? Were they truly something now, beyond the arrangement? They would have to talk about the future, she knew that. But before she could settle into the newfound bliss of it, the rest of the evening came flooding back.
Sebastian Devereau.
At their ball. In their house.
He might know the truth about Arabella. He might also, finally, be the way to find her.
She rang for Nell, who appeared a little while later with a wash basin and a wash ball strung around her neck.
“You are awake. I am glad you rested. You had a late night.”
She felt herself color up and looked away.
“I did.”
“What a grand ball it was, My Lady. Are you pleased?”
“Very pleased. I enjoyed it greatly. And so many people came.”
“Indeed. I do not think we have had a ball this size here in a very long time. I heard His Grace had one at the Southampton house last year, but of course, he keeps his own staff there.”
“Have you ever been?” Clara asked.
Nell shook her head. “I have not had the occasion. Most gentlemen move their servants back and forth with them, but His Grace prefers to keep a steady staff at each house which means we get a fair amount of free time, but it also means I have never seen Southampton.”
“Well, if you should like, you may travel with me from now on. You are my lady’s maid after all.”
“Oh, that would be lovely.” Nell smiled. “Most of the staff find it convenient to have so much free time, but I haven’t any family here in town, you see, and—” she paused, coloring slightly, “I rather like Charles.”
Clara looked up with a smile. “Charles. His Grace’s valet?”
“Indeed. He is the only one who travels with His Grace no matter what as you know. We have liked one another for some time, but…” she shrugged.
“Then henceforth, wherever I travel, you shall travel. You are my lady’s maid after all.”
Nell beamed. “Shall I brush your hair, My Lady?”
“I should like that. And do you think you might braid it for me? I saw a style in Ackermann’s Repository I rather liked.” She took the paper from the desk and showed her. It was a pretty braided arrangement pinned around the head like a crown.
“Oh, this is quite simple. I can manage it.”
“Do you think it will suit me?”
“Of course, My Lady. With features as delicate as yours, I cannot imagine anything that would not.”
