That announcement brought the Duke of Aldridge back to the present. “Is it your bed you’ll be seeking, Alec?” he asked with a trace of indulgent amusement. “I have heard talk of you and the lovely Lady Dover.”
He and the beautiful widow had done more than talk, Alec thought, but merely smiled. “A gentleman never tells.” He paused at the door, glancing back at his uncle. His expression turned serious. “One word of warning, Duke. If Miss Donovan stays on, I’d suggest you have Mrs. Danbury count the silver.”
Kendra’s sense of unreality deepened as she followed Mrs. Danbury down a hall and then up two flights of servants’ stairs. The single lantern the woman had picked up to guide their way turned the walls into a horror house of twisting shadows. Kendra wondered if any of it was real. Stiffening her spine, she battled back the bubble of panic that was threatening to engulf her. Whatever was happening, whether it was a psychosis or something paranormal, panicking wouldn’t help.
Mrs. Danbury stopped outside a wooden door. “I shall deal with you tomorrow, Miss Donovan.” The tone was steely and suspicious. “Tonight, you may share the bedchamber with Rose.” With that, she gave the panel a brisk tap and opened the door.
The light from the single lantern spilled across the threshold, illuminating a tiny room tucked under the eaves. A large oak armoire was positioned against one wall, opposite two narrow single beds separated by a nightstand. One of the beds was occupied. As Kendra watched, the covers moved, a pale hand lifted, and two big brown eyes, under the ruffle of a white nightcap, squinted toward the doorway.
“’Oo’s there?”
“’Tis I—Mrs. Danbury.”
“Mrs. Danbury?” The girl yawned. “Ma’am, w’ot time is it? W’ot’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, Rose. I am sorry to disturb you, but Miss Donovan needs a place to sleep. Good night.” She withdrew, taking the light with her.
Kendra blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Moonlight streamed through a tiny window on the far wall. There was a flurry of movement from the bed, then steel striking flint, and sparks. A stout candle on the nightstand emitted a small circle of light.
The girl looked at her. “’Oo are you?” she asked bluntly.
“Kendra Donovan.” Because she was feeling queasy again, she sat down abruptly on the unoccupied bed.
“W’ot ’appened to your ’air? ‘Ave you been ill?”
“That would explain it.”
In the faint glow, they studied each other. The girl couldn’t be much older than fifteen or sixteen, Kendra decided. She was pretty, with big, Bambi eyes, bright with curiosity, in a round face, framed by her old-fashioned nightcap and tumbling dark curls.
“Are you ’ere for the ’ouse party?”
“I . . . yes. I was hired as a lady’s maid.” Again, Kendra could feel the panic tickle at the back of her throat, trying to work its way free. She could tell herself that this was impossible, that she couldn’t be sitting on this hard little mattress in the candlelight, talking to a girl who looked like she belonged in a history book. Yet she was having an increasingly difficult time dismissing what she was seeing, smelling, feeling.
And that terrified her more than anything.
“Ooh,” the girl said, impressed. “Me sister bettered ’erself by becoming a lady’s maid in London. She was a scullery maid ’ere at the castle. Me ma says I only need apply meself. I’m an ’ard worker. Last year, Mrs. Danbury upped me to a tweeny when Emma became an ’ousemaid and Jenny ran off to Bath.” She stopped suddenly, and blushed. “Look at me, runnin’ on. You must be tired, ’aving been ill and all.” She frowned as she glanced around. “Do you ’ave a bag, Miss Donovan?”
“Kendra. Please call me Kendra,” she said automatically, and looked around, as though her bag would miraculously appear. She’d left her purse on the floor of the study, she remembered, before fleeing into the passageway. Of course, that, along with Sir Jeremy’s body, had disappeared. “I’m afraid not. My bag was lost.”
“Well, never you mind. Mrs. Danbury’ll set you up. I’m Rose. Do you need ’elp getting undressed?”
“What? Oh. Thank you.” Kendra stood, and turned her back to Rose, much as she’d done to Sally. The recollection brought on another shiver.
“’Ere, now, get under those covers. You’re cold!”
Kendra sat down, bending to loosen the ties on her half boots. Rose knelt before her, and helped her out of them, setting them aside.
“Where do you come from? You don’t sound English.”
“I’m from the United States.”
“Ooh, America. I’ve ’eard such tales,” she said as she scrambled back into bed. “Me pa says the colonists are a bunch of ’eathens. No offense, mind you.”
“We’ve been called worse.” Kendra stood and stripped down to her shift. By the time she slipped between the sheets and pulled up the thin blankets, she was trembling from more than shock and fear; it was actually cold. The room, she decided, was like a refrigerator.