Page 24

A shadowy outline of a man—a gentleman, she realized by the way he held himself, his top hat, and a walking stick—appeared a few feet before her. He knocked on the door and looked around, as if in worry.

The door opened, and he slipped inside almost too quickly for Helen to notice. Could it be the place she’d been looking for? She hurried her steps and found herself in front of the dark-red door of an innocuous-looking two-story building.

There was no sign hanging atop the door, no windows—she squinted—and no door handle!

Helen took a deep breath and knocked.

The door opened immediately, and Helen walked into a small, dimly lit corridor.

“Follow me,” a tall, heavy-set man said and led her away.

Helen didn’t even have a chance to protest or say anything before she was standing in a small room, alone, with only the towering stranger blocking the door.

“Any weapons?” he barked.

Weapons?

Helen frantically shook her head. The man nodded and stepped away just as a slender woman, in a tall white wig and daring clothing, walked inside with a thick book. She nudged it toward Helen, then handed her a quill and an inkwell.

Helen took the quill and looked at the woman, panic rising inside. “Do I have to sign my name?”

“Only if you want to,” the woman replied immediately.

“What if I don’t want to?”

The woman shut the book closed. “Is this your first time here?”

Helen swallowed and nodded. “It is.”

The woman took a step back and called something to the person outside of the room. It sounded something like “Get Grace.” Or perhaps get His Grace.

Was there a duke in this place?

Helen’s panic heightened. “I don’t think it’s necessary. I changed my mind.”

The woman stood on the threshold not letting Helen pass. “Do not worry. It will be just a moment and you’ll be able to talk to Grace.”

“To Grace?” Helen whispered. But before she could say more, the woman stepped outside and another woman, in the same outfit, with the same wig, and painted in the same way, appeared on the threshold. The only difference between her and the other woman was that she was taller.

“Please, follow me,” she said with a low, soothing voice.

Helen’s entire body was quickly covered in a cold sweat. “I-I ch-changed my mind,” she stuttered. “I don’t think it was a good idea for me—” She turned to leave, but the woman quickly caught her by her sleeve.

“Please. Do not panic. If you came here, there was a reason, wasn’t there?”

Helen bit her lip, her heartbeat obfuscating all the other sounds.

The woman waved her hand toward a narrow corridor. “If you follow me, we can speak privately. After we speak, if you want to leave, you can leave. Nobody will hold you here.”

Helen swallowed. “I am not certain if I should have come at all.”

The woman smiled, but her smile lacked emotion, and it made Helen shiver. “Don’t you want to be certain?”

I do. Helen took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor. The woman led her through the building, weaving her way in a maze-like corridor.

Finally, the woman stopped before a door, opened it, and welcomed Helen into a tiny room.

She locked the door behind her and gestured for Helen to sit on a settee by the fireplace. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” she said, before quickly discarding her wig. She ruffled her inky black hair and settled across from Helen. “That wig itches,” she explained. “Do you want anything to drink?”