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Chapter One

March 3, 1860

Somewhere on the road

between London and Yorkshire

Jane Ephram woke in the unremarkable room of an inn situated in a village of no consequence with the distinct impression that she was alone.

It took a half second for her usually sharp mind to begin whirring, but the moment the creaky cogs clicked together she bolted up in her cot. She was alone. The massive bed that dominated the center of the room was empty, and Lady Margaret Simon, only daughter of the Earl of Rawson, was nowhere to be seen.

Jane jumped up, rushed to the bed, and threw back the covers, hoping in vain that she’d discover Lady Margaret nestled somewhere underneath the mound of linen.

Nothing.

There was no sign of her charge.

“No no no,” she muttered as dread began to gnaw at her stomach.

Crossing the room, Jane threw open the doors of the tall armoire where Lady Margaret’s maid had stowed the hand luggage meant to save them the trouble of pulling their trunks down from Lord Rawson’s carriage every night. Jane’s modest, slightly tattered bag had fallen over, no longer supported by the most substantial weight of Lady Margaret’s smooth leather valise.

“Oh, you foolish girl!”

Jane didn’t curse—what governess would risk such vulgarity?—but in the bright light of the late-winter morning she was closer than she’d ever been in her life. This was her nightmare realized—the one that had made for restless sleep the last three nights on this slow progress to their exile at Lord Rawson’s West Riding estate.

Jane breathed deeply and tried to calm her already frayed nerves. Yes, the bed was empty, and yes, Lady Margaret’s bag was gone, but that didn’t necessarily mean she’d run off. Even the young lady who’d sulked during the entire journey from Rawson House on Berkeley Square to this little village couldn’t be so irresponsible. So selfish.

“She’s headstrong enough to ruin her reputation just to spite her father though,” Jane muttered.

She yanked at the ties of her night rail and ripped the plain garment with a patch on the right elbow over her head with lightning speed. She’d been dressing herself since she was seven, and that morning she couldn’t have been more grateful that she was used to lacing her own corset, strapping on the modest crinoline that went with her traveling dress, and working the long buttonhook down her back. She shoved her feet into her serviceable flat boots, snatched up her reticule, and sprinted from the room.

She clattered down the hall and up a small set of stairs to a floor of considerably less well-appointed rooms where Lady Margaret’s maid, a Highlands girl named Elspeth, slept. She rapped hard on the door, not stopping until the stiff bolt groaned in the lock.

“What do you want?” demanded a sleepy young woman with wild black hair escaping from its braid.

“Elspeth!” Jane called, peering around the woman’s shoulder. “Elspeth, get up right now.”

There was a muffled protest and the sound of sheets rumpling, but a few seconds later the maid was at the door of her shared room yawning, her cap slightly askew. “There’s no need to carry on like Revelations are upon us. I can’t have overslept. Not when you can hear every creak through these thin walls.”

“Where is Lady Margaret? Did she call on you to dress her?” Even as she asked, Jane knew the question was foolish, but there was still a part of her that hoped against all hope her charge hadn’t done something incredibly stupid. Maybe Lady Margaret had risen early and dressed to take a meal in a private room downstairs. Maybe if Jane wished hard enough, she could will that into being true.

Elspeth’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the matter?”

“When was the last time you saw her?” she pushed. While Jane could ready herself for the day without assistance, Lady Margaret’s traveling costume was far too complicated to manage on her own. Besides, the young lady had likely never dressed without a maid’s assistance.

“I haven’t seen Lady Margaret since yesterday evening. She asked me to brush out her hair, but then told me that she wanted to undress herself because she was too tired for a fuss,” said Elspeth.

Jane rolled her eyes and prayed for the strength not to shake the gullible young woman. “When has Lady Margaret ever not wanted a fuss to be made over her?”

Elspeth’s face crumpled and the tears began to fall. “I didn’t think there was any harm in it.”

Of course there was harm in it, but Jane didn’t have the heart to berate the girl. She was just as culpable as Elspeth. She’d thought nothing of the fact that Lady Margaret was already in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin when she returned to the room yesterday night after having a word about their morning meal with the innkeeper’s wife. Jane had been exhausted from the slow, long journey in the carriage and wishing for the speed and comfort of the Midland Railway trains that would’ve brought them within five miles of Holmesfield Hall. She’d been distracted and careless and now the worst had happened.

“Elspeth, look at me,” Jane said. “There are times for crying, but right now is not one of them. I need you to think back to yesterday. Is there anything else that Lady Margaret did that struck you as odd?”

The maid hiccuped between sobs. “She asked me to get down a few things from her trunk and pack them in her valise. She said she wasn’t sure what she wanted to wear the next day.”

“Oh, Elspeth, you should’ve let me know!”