Miss Cooper merely gave her an assessing look. “Miss Donovan. Do you have a preference on what you wish to wear for your morning call on Lady St. James?”
“No.” Kendra crossed the room to the washbasin. She caught the curl of Miss Cooper’s lip out of the corner of her eye. She’d only just met the woman, but she was beginning to have an intense dislike for that small gesture.
“Yes, Her Ladyship indicated that you have little interest in fashion.”
“I’m not running around naked, you know,” Kendra muttered.
“I should hope not.”
Kendra lifted the porcelain pitcher and poured water into the bowl. That done, she paused, regarding the lady’s maid. “You’re not related to Mrs. Danbury, are you?”
Miss Cooper blinked, startled. “Mrs. Danbury—the Duke’s housekeeper?”
“Yeah. You have the same look about the eyes.” Certainly the same disdain that the housekeeper had bestowed on her during her first days at the castle. Kendra set the pitcher aside and reached for a lump of lavender-scented soap, washing the chalk dust from her hands.
“I have no connection to Mrs. Danbury,” the maid said flatly.
Kendra shrugged as she finished washing her hands.
Miss Cooper returned to the wardrobe, pulling out a mint-green poplin gown, designed with delicate lace trimming the neckline and long sleeves that were scrunched and puffed near the shoulder. “Since you have no interest in fashion, I have taken the liberty of selecting your afternoon dress. Is this acceptable?”
“Sure.”
“Now as far as dressing your hair . . .” She eyed Kendra critically. “’Tis shorter than what is considered fashionable. Mayhap a hairpiece?”
“It’s longer than what it was.” Kendra knew she sounded defensive, and hated feeling like she needed to explain herself to justify her choices. Miss Cooper’s censorious gaze reminded her too much of her father, when he’d looked at her and found her wanting. Damn it, she was an adult. She should be beyond all the hurts, inadequacies, and anxieties that had tormented her as a child. She knew better than to let it affect her. And yet . . .
She drew in a breath, and let it out slowly. “And I’m gonna say no to a hairpiece.”
Miss Cooper sniffed. “We shall make do, if we must.”
Kendra bit back a snarky reply. She didn’t like the woman, but she didn’t envy her the duties of a lady’s maid. It was still something of a shock to remember that she’d been a colossal failure at it, being demoted to a downstairs maid within a day. My first-ever demotion.
She turned her back on the servant’s disapproval, moving to the window as she dried her hands. The park below seemed to glisten as green as emeralds in the sunlight. On the street, a dangerous-looking contraption—an open carriage with a high perch—was being drawn by two matching horses at a fast clip, its driver expertly flicking the reins. Further along, four horseback riders trotted past a handful of strolling maids.
“Lady Atwood has made an appointment with her modiste for a new wardrobe for you,” Miss Cooper said from behind her.
The maid’s words barely registered. Kendra’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the park, having caught a glimmer of light in the trees. It took her a moment, but she finally traced the quick flash to a figure almost hidden behind leafy branches. He was wearing brown and green, perfect camouflage against the woods. In fact, if he hadn’t moved, she doubted she would’ve seen him at all.
“Do you have jewelry, Miss Donovan?” asked Miss Cooper.
Kendra leaned forward. The figure had on a cap, which he’d pulled low in an effort to shield his face. Still, his head was angled in such a way that Kendra knew he was watching the Duke’s residence. Not just idle curiosity. Kendra’s gut tightened. Surveillance.
“Miss Donovan . . . ?”
Kendra turned abruptly away from the window. She didn’t stop to consider what she was doing. She picked up her skirts and bolted for the door.
“Miss Donovan . . . !”
Miss Cooper’s astonished gasp barely registered as Kendra ran headlong from the room. She nearly crashed into a footman, who’d come out of another bedchamber carrying an empty silver basket. At the last minute, she skidded to the side to avoid the collision, then kept running down the stairs to the foyer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harding emerge from a door, his mouth falling open in astonishment, but she darted past him and yanked open the door.
Outside, the sun warmed her face as she leaped down the short flight of steps. She dashed across the wide street, instinctively avoiding the piles of manure that had been left by the departing horses. There was a roar of adrenaline in her ears, but she thought she heard her name being called. She ignored it as she plunged into the woods, in the direction of where she’d seen the loitering figure.
She wasn’t sure how long she ran, but her lungs were burning, and there was a stitch in her side by the time she finally came to a stop.
Shit.
Her chest heaved as she drew in great gulps of air and scanned the now-empty area. He’d been standing here, damn it. Right here! He must have seen her coming . . .
She tensed at the snap of twigs ahead of her. She started forward again, weaving between trees and shrubs. rewarded a second later when she spotted the man about a hundred yards ahead, a small shadow that scurried deeper into the forest. Though her lungs continued to burn, she renewed her efforts to catch up to him. She thought she was gaining, but by the next break in the trees, he’d vanished again.
“Fuck,” she gasped, stumbling to a stop. Her breath came in ragged pants and she became aware that her feet hurt. The thin-soled slippers that ladies were forced to wear were not meant to race in, probably because women were not meant to run.
Kendra put her hands on her hips and bent over, in an effort to draw more air into her starving lungs. Her heart beat so loudly that she thought it would thump right out of her chest. The roar in her ears was like a freight train.
Which was why she never heard him come up behind her.
11
Are you mad, woman?”
The hand that clamped down on her shoulder sent a bolt of adrenaline shooting through her. Instantly, she spun with hands up to launch a counterattack. She only checked the movement when her gaze locked on Alec.
“What are you doing racing around London like a bloody hoyden?” he demanded, the flecks of gold in his green eyes burning with temper beneath slanting black eyebrows.
She put her hand on her chest instead of into his throat, as she’d almost done. “Jesus Christ, Alec. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. I could’ve hurt you!”
“Miss Donovan, you cannot wander about Town unchaperoned. Hell and damnation, Kendra! This is London—not the country.”
Kendra found her own temper rising. “I’m aware of our location, Alec. Someone was watching the Duke’s house.”