Page 16

The morning after they arrived in London, Honoria got up before dawn, got dressed, and hurried toward the Serpentine—the serene spot she and Lydia used as a meeting place.

Honoria stood, nervously twisting a loose strand of hair that had escaped her tight chignon. She frowned at the telltale golden streaks visible among her darker locks. Oh, fiddle! In their rushed preparations to leave for London, she’d had no time to reapply the dye to her hair. She would need to do it tonight. She didn’t need anyone questioning her poor disguise, especially not in London.

She tossed a piece of bread to the ducks, watching as they squabbled over the morsel.

Before their arrival in London, she’d written to Lydia that their plan would have to be hastened. They needed to leave London before the Caldwells joined society in full swing. Thanks to Caldwell’s rather frisky aunt, the first ball had already been scheduled—a week from now!—and the preparations were on the way.

Honoria couldn’t believe her peaceful, quiet life was so quickly tumbling out of control.

She glanced at her timepiece, yet promptly forgot what time it was. Either way, she couldn’t stay much longer. The servants would be awakening now and soon they’d be looking for her.

She wondered if Lydia had even gotten her letter in time.

Lady Somerville, the earl’s aunt, was in a hurry to reintroduce him into society. And she had reasons for doing so. Her main reason was that Elise could have her come-out unimpeded next year. Lady Somerville planned to host Elise’s come-out and be there to ensure her smooth entry into society. However her youngest granddaughter had recently married an Austrian count in Florence and was now urging her to join them in that sun-filled land—primarily to assist during her confinement, but also so she might spend her later years in warmth and light rather than in cold, drafty London.

This was all well and good for Lady Somerville, but it meant that Honoria was once again thrust into the depths of London society without her say so. As a housekeeper, she now had to help the earl and his stubborn aunt organize social events. Which meant, eventually, she would be seen by everyday guests, precisely what she had needed to avoid.

Granted, no one paid attention to servants, for the most part, and that was her only saving grace. But Honoria could not imagine what would happen if he happened to visit the Caldwell townhouse.

Would he recognize her? Or would she faint upon seeing him and give her identity away?

Her fingers curled into fists, crushing the bread in her tight grip.

The sound of hoofbeats pulled her from her troubled thoughts. She turned to see Lydia dismounting from her horse, tying it to a nearby tree. A smile broke through Honoria’s worry at the sight of her dear friend.

Lydia rushed toward Honoria, her long cloak tangling around her feet, red locks gleaming in the morning sun.

As they exchanged greetings, Lydia tilted her head, her keen gaze taking in Honoria’s appearance. “You look… dare I say happier?”

The observation dimmed Honoria’s smile. It was true—despite her present fears, these years at Caldwell House had brought her a contentment she hadn’t expected to find again.

“I am happy,” she admitted quietly. “I like the family I live with. The children are all so bright and intelligent. I shall truly miss not seeing Robbie grow into a fine gentleman and not guiding Elise during her courtship. And Rosie…” Her throat tightened unexpectedly, making it impossible to continue. She would miss little Rosie most of all. She was like the daughter she’d never had, and most likely, never would have.

And she didn’t even want to think about never seeing Lord Caldwell again… She cleared her throat and shook her head, clearing her mind. She needed to stay on target. “Can I assume your reserved demeanor to mean that your night at Hades wasn’t successful?”

“Actually, it was a success.” Lydia’s bearing was contrary to the victorious statement. “But it turns out that particular job was just a test.”

“What does that mean?” Unease crawled up Honoria’s spine.

Lydia took a piece of bread from Honoria’s fingers and tossed it to the ducks. “Miss Melissande Monroe. Does that name sound familiar to you?”

It did.

Miss Monroe was the most scandalous figure in London society. She was the first and only female hell owner, and she was not shy about announcing herself to the world. She was also considered a Queen of London’s criminal underbelly. Dealing with her could spell trouble very easily.

And now, Lydia was telling her that the notorious hell owner had tasked her with stealing a family heirloom—a ruby ring—from Viscount Thornton, a man from Lydia’s past. A man Lydia used to love. A man she had vowed to never face again.

“How much time do you have?” Honoria stepped back, already calculating their dwindling options.

“Until the masquerade,” Lydia said with a grimace. “Actually, I am supposed to hand her the jewel precisely at midnight on the night of the masquerade.”

“The masquerade?” Excitement briefly had her heart pumping faster. She’d always wanted to attend the infamous masquerade, or any masquerade, really. Balls, soirees, evening fêtes—this was the life she was supposed to lead. Her excitement quickly dimmed as the dread crept up into her chest. A month in London with numerous guests filling Caldwell’s drawing rooms could spell trouble.

She couldn’t wait a month. As much as she loved the Caldwell family, as much as she was loath to leave them, she couldn’t stay in London a minute longer than she had to.

Yet, she still hadn’t told the family she was leaving them. A part of her had always thought this conversation could be delayed. But the time was running out.

She needed to say her goodbyes, collect her belongings, and leave this life behind.