Page 36

Rap. Rap. Rap.

Ah, a knock at the door had woken her up. Only one person dared to come to her room so early in the morning, and that person didn’t even live in this house.

Lydia.

“Enter,” Honoria called, her voice hoarse, and the door immediately opened.

Lydia silently slipped into her room, a wide smile on her face. “Good morning. Your knocker-upper is here,” she whispered, setting a muslin-wrapped bundle on Honoria’s small writing desk.

Honoria couldn’t help but smile, and the remnants of the horrifying dream dissolved into thin air. She pushed herself up, picked up her shawl from the chair by her bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders against the morning chill. “What is this?”

“For the masquerade,” Lydia said, a hint of excitement glinting in her golden-brown eyes. “Are you ready for our departure?”

Honoria’s stomach knotted at the question. “I have nothing to prepare.”

“Good. Good.”

They spoke in hushed tones for several minutes, finalizing their plan to retrieve the jewel from Lydia’s beloved viscount during the masquerade ball. Lydia’s plan was to approach him in her mask, brazenly flirt, perhaps even dance with him, taking every opportunity to brush her fingers against his neck as she worked to unfasten the chain and steal the jewel that hung from it.

Afterward, they would give the jewel to Melissande Monroe, collect their money, and flee together to the Continent, where Bradshaw could never find them.

It was a desperate gambit, but Lydia’s determination was almost contagious. Almost.

An anxious knot still twisted in Honoria’s stomach.

“Are you certain of this course?” Honoria asked, searching her friend’s face. Coming face to face with her former beloved, the man who had abandoned her to her fate, could not be easy.

Lydia’s jaw set firmly. “It’s our best option. Remember, high risk, high reward.” She squeezed Honoria’s hand. “I must go.”

After Lydia departed, Honoria immediately approached the bundle Lydia had left on her desk. She unwrapped it, finding a gown of crimson silk within. She lifted it carefully, her breath catching at its beauty. The bodice was intricately embroidered with gold thread, the skirts fuller than any she had worn since her days as a debutante. More beautiful, in truth, than any gown she had ever possessed.

She held it against herself, letting the fabric cascade to the floor. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine sweeping into a ballroom, heads turning to follow her passage. Would Caldwell look at her differently if he saw her thus? Would he recognize the woman who hid beneath the role of a housekeeper?

Foolish thoughts. In a week, she would be gone from here forever.

Yet she hadn’t even informed the children she would be leaving. It was time. She had put it off too long already.

With a deep breath, Honoria carefully hung the gown inside her tiny wardrobe, then went to take care of the business for the day.

Come afternoon, she went to look for Elise, to finally have the conversation she’d long avoided.

The sound of the piano led her to the music room where Elise was rehearsing a new melody. It was beautiful, haunting even. Honoria had not heard the piece before. It was frantic and turbulent. As if someone was spiraling out of control.

She stood in the doorway, mesmerized by the music, listening to the sounds drifting around her. She was proud of the girl Elise had become, proud of her talent and grace.

Plonk. Elise stumbled over the keys and cursed under her breath.

Honoria let out a chuckle. Perhaps the grace part still needed a bit more work.

Elise raised her head and grinned. “To be fair, this is only the third time I am playing this piece.”

“Truly?” Honoria stepped into the room. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

“It’s a new piece by Schubert,” Elise said with a mischievous spark in her eyes. “Gretchen am Spinnrade. Uncle says it has only been published this year. One of his friends brought the music sheet from Vienna and was kind enough to share it. Come, listen!”

Elise eagerly turned back to the keys, and Honoria joined her on the bench, allowing herself to be swept away by the music—even as her heart ached, knowing this might be one of the last times she’d hear Elise play like this.

When had the frightened, lost little girl grown into this confident young woman? Honoria would miss seeing her grow further. She would become fierce, no doubt. A force to be reckoned with.