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“No.” He gave a slight shrug. “Mrs. Clarke can oversee the household. Whenever she decides to retire, I may promote from within.”

“Oh.” It seemed she wouldn’t be missed after all. Maybe she hadn’t been needed in the first place.

Another pause.

“Would you…?” She faltered. “Would you mind being present when I tell Rosie and Robbie? I don’t want them to feel alone.”

He frowned, considering. Then he nodded. “Of course. Would you like to do it now?”

She clasped her hands nervously. “Yes. Thank you.”

Caldwell’s gaze fell to his gloves enveloping her hands.

She hastily began pulling them off. “These are yours. Thank you for—”

He stepped back. “No. Keep them. Something to remember me by…” A pause. “To keep you warm at night.”

Chapter 13

The last week had been the hardest of her life.

The conversation with Robbie and Rosie had gone somewhat better than the one with Elise—and yet, somehow, worse.

Elise had held Rosie on her lap, her face impassive as Honoria tried to explain to the children that she would be leaving soon. Caldwell sat beside her, his calm presence a balm to her frayed nerves.

Both Robbie and Rosie had asked questions Honoria couldn’t answer.

How could she explain that she was fleeing a monster? That she feared for her life? That she had been living a lie since the moment she entered their world?

By the end of the conversation, Rosie had convinced herself that Honoria wouldn’t really leave at all.

Robbie had fallen into a brooding silence that reminded Honoria painfully of his uncle when something troubled him.

Nothing had been resolved. In fact, Honoria felt worse than before.

And the days that followed only rubbed salt in the wound. Rosie barely left her side. Robbie carried a constant sheen of sadness in his eyes. And Elise… Elise ignored her completely, pretending she had already left.

On the night of the masquerade, Honoria sat in Lydia’s carriage, her fingers trembling as she adjusted her bodice for the hundredth time that evening, her valise sitting by her side.

The crimson silk of her gown was so fine and luxurious it felt almost sinful against her skin after years of serviceable cotton and wool. But the low cut made her feel uncomfortable. Exposed. It had been ages since she’d worn something so revealing.

She reached up to check her wig, ensuring it remained securely pinned, then adjusted her mask to make sure it fully concealed her face.

Across from her, Lydia sat in a midnight blue gown, her face half-hidden behind a vixen mask. Usually chatty when they were around each other, both of them were quiet, lost in their deep thoughts.

Honoria’s mind kept returning to the letters she’d written to the children. She couldn’t leave them without a word but couldn’t stomach the idea of in-person goodbyes. The night she had told them she was leaving soon had been painful enough.

Now she was questioning her choices. She wondered if what she wrote was sufficient, if she should have written something else, or not written anything at all.

No, that would not have been a good decision. They deserved to know that she hadn’t disappeared into thin air, but that she had left forever and was too much of a coward to tell them in person.

She had left the letters on her bed, where Mrs. Clarke would surely find them when she came looking for Honoria first thing in the morning. She would hand them to the children at breakfast, and they would read them in the company of their guardian, with the governess and a nanny by their sides.

The carriage slowed, joining a line of vehicles before Hades Hell.

They had arrived.

Honoria let out a deep breath, turning her thoughts into the current situation. She’d have plenty of time to grieve about the children. For now, she had a mission to accomplish.