A Revolution of Hearts by Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen

Author:Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: French Revolution;murder mystery;Scarlet Pimpernel;spin;retelling;Sir Percy Blakeney;gentleman;heroes;romance;georgian;proper romance;sweet romance;escape;hide;masquerade;secrets;clean
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2020-09-28T19:01:56+00:00

Chapter 18

It was midnight, and still Dacia could not get Miss Grant’s disapproving glare out of her mind. What if her outside-the-ordinary actions had made Miss Grant question Dacia’s identity? I must be more careful.

Dacia rolled onto her side. She stared wide-eyed at the exterior wall on the other side of Edith’s bed. This room did not contain a window, but if it had, and if they were on an upper floor rather than in the basement, that window would look out toward the flower garden just as Master Richard’s window did.

Edith breathed heavily with sleep.

Dacia rolled onto her other side, but after counting to one hundred and finding herself still awake, she climbed out of bed, quickly dressed, and tiptoed from the room.

Less than a minute later, she slipped out the kitchen door at the back of the house. She took in a deep breath of the cool night air and looked up at the blue-black sky. The full moon shimmered over the night with greater ease than King Louis XVI had ever reigned over France, and the cool air, scented by what Dacia now knew was Brooksfield Lake, wafted over her skin, luring her toward it as certainly as any minstrel’s song ever could. One day soon, she would go to the lake and examine its surrounding woodlands, but for now she would content herself with the flower garden.

She scanned up the side of the building toward the second floor, ascertaining no lights lit any of the guests’ chambers, and then, keeping within the shadows, hurried around to the garden in front of the estate. Master Richard’s window was also dark. I am alone.

She stepped onto the gravel path that led through the garden. Her eyes had still not fully adjusted to the darkness, but the moon’s glow seemed to lighten the white magnolias as surely as if they had been lanterns rather than trees. Beautiful! She bent to one of the few remaining geraniums and took a deep breath. Only a hint of its lemony scent still lingered, but it was enough to elicit her memory of Marcel handing her a small, prettily stamped box.

“Happy birthday, Sister,” he had said.

Dacia had lifted the lid. Gentle fragrance had wafted over her. “Geraniums?”

“That is what the perfumer promised me.”

Dacia sniffed now as moisture warmed her eyes at the memory, and she stepped back. She stumbled against “Pepper?” Dacia laughed and gave Master Richard’s wolfhound a good scruffing around her head and neck. “What are you doing out here, girl?”

Pepper sat in front of her.

“I might ask you the same question, Louise.”

Dacia whirled. “Master Richard!” She jolted backward, reached out to catch her balance, and grabbed a thorny bush. “Aack!”

Master Richard caught Dacia’s elbow. He pulled her upright, and holding her wrist, moved her hand into a stream of moonlight. Blood trickled from several of the already-swollen pricks.

He frowned. “You might want to wear gloves next time.”

Next time? Did that mean he did not disapprove of her walking through his gardens? She tried to pull away, but he did not release her.

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