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“Not enough to tell me the truth as to why you’re leaving. Not enough to stay.” Elise’s shoulders trembled slightly. “I thought of you as my friend. As the closest thing I had to a mother.”

A long pause.

“I know.” Honoria hung her head. Elise was right. She had every right to be upset, angry even. So she didn’t argue. She wished she could tell her the truth, but it would be too difficult to explain. It was easier to flee, to escape, to hide.

Without another word, Elise turned and stormed out of the room, taking the joy, music, and laughter with her. Leaving Honoria alone in the deafening silence.

* * *

The confrontation with Elise took the wind, life, and will out of Honoria. She could not speak to Rosie and Robbie feeling like this.

Feeling an overwhelming need to escape and to cool the burning of her face, Honoria slipped out into the garden.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She walked along the gravel path, trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. If she stayed and was exposed, she would be ruining Elise and her chances at an advantageous marriage, surely.

She could just tell the truth…

No. She could not bear the thought of it. The shame. The horror.

And Lydia.

She was trying so hard to get Honoria out of the country. Honoria would be letting her down, too.

Part of her wished she had never been hired in the Caldwell household. Too many attachments and emotions surrounded this place. But another part of her, a bigger, more powerful part of her, would not trade this family for her life.

She pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and slipped her hands into the pockets of her dress.

Her fingers met cool leather. Honoria tightened her grip and drew out the earl’s gloves—the ones he had given her on the night of the theater. She had carried them ever since. Just for a moment like this, she had told herself. Not for any sentimental reason.

Honoria slipped them on, their warmth enveloping her cold fingers like an embrace.

The crunch of footsteps sounded behind her. She knew who it was without turning. Something in her had become attuned to his presence.

“Hart.” Lord Caldwell’s deep voice was loud in the stillness of the garden. “Seeking out the cold again? Are you still feeling unwell?”

Honoria turned, grateful for the darkness that hid the evidence of her distress. “I am quite recovered, my lord. Thank you for your concern.”

He moved closer, his tall figure outlined against the light spilling from the house windows. “You look pale.”

A small, humorless laugh escaped her. “I have just told Elise I shall be leaving soon. It was… difficult.”

“I imagine so.” He stood beside her now, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “She has grown quite attached to you. They all have.”

Honoria nodded. And I to them.

“Let me know when your departure is set,” he continued after a moment. “I shall prepare the carriage for you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said quickly. “I’ve already made arrangements.”

He turned to face her fully, his expression hidden in shadow. “So you know the precise date of your departure?”

“Not the exact date, no.” The lie sat bitter on her tongue. She did know—the night of the masquerade, exactly one week from tomorrow. But if their mission failed, if they were caught, or if Lydia changed her mind…

No, better not to be specific.

The silence stretched between them, filled with unasked questions. Finally, desperate to fill it, Honoria asked, “Have you submitted an advertisement for my position yet? I can do it if you wish.”