Helen could hear the maids as they bustled up and down the hall, careful to whisper in hushed tones as they passed, but no one ever stopped. Did they all assume she’d taken the pendant? Even Kate? The thought of the young maid thinking Helen had done such a thing and blamed her, was unthinkable. If nothing else, she hoped Kate knew her better than that.
The door was locked. The sole window in her room wasn’t an option. Too far off the ground and Helen had no desire to breakher neck attempting to scale down the brick. There was no one to miss her save Cerise and her absence in the world would go unnoticed except perhaps by the Duchess of Roxboro. She would eventually seek Helen out, but Galway would put her off.
Fletcher might…want to see her again.
She paused in her pacing, toeing at the rug with one foot.
No, he won’t come.
Because he thought Helen had betrayed him, or planned to. That knowledge hurt worse than being trapped so neatly by Galway. Fletcher was a thief, likely a bit more given the state of his knuckles. His speech suggested a rookery or at least a far less favorable part of town than Grosvenor Square. She should be repulsed, and rightly so, at the things she’d allowed, but Helen was not. She wanted Fletcher, warts and all. And now she wouldn’t have the chance to tell him because of Galway.
The click of the lock signaled Parker’s arrival carrying the usual tray of broth, bread, and cold tea. He marched inside without looking in Helen’s direction, placed the tray on the table beside her bed, and exited without a word.
“Always so engaging,” she said as the door shut. “Run back to your master with a report on my condition.”
Snatching up the bread from the tray, Helen gnawed on the edge, considering her predicament once more. There had to be a way to escape this room. Maybe she could push Parker and run while the door was unlocked. Whack him with the tray which would be satisfying but unlikely to aid her escape much. Besides, she was sure the footmen had been instructed to stop her.
The bread, quite stale, had a strange consistency. Like paper. Frowning, she peered at the chunk of bread in her hand.
It is paper.
There was a small hollow in the bread, carved out carefully so Parker couldn’t see it. A note had been folded into a tiny squareand tucked inside. She’d nearly eaten it. Hands shaking, Helen unfolded the paper, glancing at the door in case Parker returned.
Tonight.
She turned the small scrap over in her hand, but there was nothing else. No signature. No indication of who might have sent the note or who meant to help her.
Helen tore the square up into the smallest bits possible, hiding them in the base of her armoire. Galway refused to have a fire lit in her room so she’d shiver all night.
But not tonight.
Helen would be ready. Her rescue was at hand.
*
Hours later, Helensat, leaning against the headboard and stared out her window, watching as twilight and then night descended on London. In preparation for what she assumed was rescue, and granted, she’d debated that this might be a trick on Galway’s part, she’d changed into her battered muslin. The dress wouldn’t attract attention, was comfortable and didn’t require a corset, which allowed Helen to move freely. And after a week of near starvation, a corset wasn’t required anyway. Her shabby half-boots completed her ensemble. She had no funds as Galway had taken her purse.
Hours later, when the moon had risen high, Helen pinched herself to stay awake though according to the clock beside the bed, it wasn’t all that late. She’d heard the sound of a carriage leaving earlier, probably Galway headed out for the night with Cerise. But nothing since.
She must have eventually dozed off because she jolted out of her sleep at the sound of the lock clicking and the door opening a crack.
“Miss Cosgrove.” A voice whispered. “Hurry now.”
Helen rolled from the bed, nearly sick with anticipation, careful not to make a sound. Squinting at the shape moving by the door she whispered, “Kate?”
“Shh.” The maid hushed her. “Hurry. Lord Galway and Lady Cerise are out for the night at a ball, so Parker has finally gone out to the gardens to enjoy one of his cigars. We don’t have much time before he finishes. Cook is plying the footmen charged with watching the doors with apple pie.” Kate reached out and took Helen’s hand. “Quiet now till I get you out.”
Helen squeezed her fingers in reply.
Carefully, they moved through the house, pausing at intervals to listen for any sounds of discovery, but Cook made an excellent apple pie. The sounds of laughter came from the kitchens as the staff indulged in a rare treat echoed through the house. Parker would most likely stop there before coming inside. He was not immune to Cook’s apple pie.
Reaching the door at the side of the house, one only the servants ever used, Kate pulled a key stuck inside her bodice and opened it, before ushering Helen out into the velvety darkness.
“How did you get in my room, Kate?” Helen finally said, deciding it was safe to speak now that they were outside. “If Parker finds out, you’ll be dismissed. I’m so grateful but—”
“Don’t you concern yourself, Miss Cosgrove. Parker forgot there’s a spare skeleton key hanging on the kitchen wall. Opens all the doors in his lordship’s house, this one included. Could have been any one of us. I’m hoping Galway will dismiss Parker for his carelessness. And even if I am sacked, well, my mum wants me to come home to her anyway. Turns out, I don’t care for London at all. Nor could I continue to work for Lady Cerise or Lord Galway, not after what they done to you.”
Helen felt her eyes water before pulling Kate into a hug. “Thank you.”
