The Earl's Masquerade by Amy Corwin

Author:Amy Corwin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-03-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Endeavour to serve with such good will.…” — The Complete Servant

Getting up before the sun rose, Helen dressed hurriedly in the light from a sputtering, rank-smelling tallow candle. She cast worried glances into Miss Leigh’s room, hoping the older lady would keep to the schedule she had set over the last few days. She rose precisely at seven and kept Helen busy for the rest of the day.

Now was her only chance.

It was difficult to judge time in the dark closet where she slept, but these days she rested so poorly that it was not much of a challenge to rise well before the sun.

The mice scrabbling beneath the floorboards made more noise than Helen as she crept through the door, holding her hand in front of the guttering flame. The smell of the cheap candle followed her. Miss Leigh snorted in her sleep. Her thin nose twitched. Poised on tiptoe, Helen stopped, her gaze flicking between Miss Leigh and the chest of drawers where she suspected her employer had hidden the necklace. She held her breath, trying to keep the candle from shaking in her hand.

Miss Leigh rolled over and went back to sleep with a heavy sigh.

This adventure was not turning out at all well. Her head and neck ached with tension. Helen put down the candle and absently touched her temple with one cool hand before she quietly opened the top drawer. Despite her tension, her thoughts wandered, filling with doubts.

Could she truly bring this adventure to a successful conclusion? It took élan and boldness, two qualities she knew she lacked.

However, something in Mr. Caswell’s eyes had encouraged her to try and so here she was, hoping she wouldn’t disappoint him. Not that she was concerned about disappointing him, she hurriedly corrected herself.

She sagged against the chest and pushed a few handkerchiefs around. What was wrong with her? She had been completely resistant to – if not completely repelled by — the few peers who had glanced her way. But her family counted on her to marry well. At least they had, before Oriana had married Lord Dacy. That happy occurrence did not free Helen, however, to marry someone beneath her, and there was no doubt that an inquiry agent was very much beneath her.

Not that she was considering anything of the sort, even if he were to ask her, which he undoubtedly would not.

The bed creaked.

“Helen?” Miss Leigh sat up. “What are you doing?”

Helen turned, leaning back against the open drawer to shut it with her back. “I was off to fetch your hot chocolate, Miss Leigh.” Then she noticed a length of lace had caught on one of her jagged nails. She hastily balled it in her fist.

“What do you have there? Is that not my lace?”

“Well, yes,” Helen said, feeling exhausted. “I was just going to wash it—after I get your chocolate.” Or toss it in the midden pile. Miss Eloise would be much better off if all her lace were burned.

“I don’t care for chocolate this morning.

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