A Dangerous Masquerade by Linda Sole

she might have gone with a lover.  I believe there was someone she cared for when she was a girl, but he went away to be a soldier and she was forced to marry the comte.  If she is not with her lover, she may be in trouble or even dead, as you say.’
                  ‘You’ve done all you can for the nuns.  You should think of yourself and leave Paris before it is too late.’
                  ‘Perhaps I should,’ Constance agreed.  ‘I shall wait for six months longer to see if the comtesse comes to claim her fortune – and then I shall leave and go to England.’
                  ‘You will take me with you?  You need someone to look after you.’
                  ‘Yes, of course.’  Constance smiled.  She wasn’t sure who looked after whom, but the old woman was a friend to her and she had no one else.  Her mother’s family had refused to acknowledge her and her father had no family that she knew of, though he had been a gentleman’s son.  As the third son he had no prospects other than what he could earn and Constance’s mother’s family had considered him highly unsuitable.  When she chose him and eloped, they had cut her off without a penny and she had never heard from them again.  Constance’s own letter had been rejected.  Even if she went to England she could not expect help from that quarter.  She would have to find work of some kind.  If not as a governess then she must become a seamstress or take work in a tavern.
                  Without a reference she would find it difficult to secure a position as a lady’s maid or companion, which is what she would have preferred.  Madeline had taken her on, because they had known each other for several years and were almost like sisters.  However, she would need a reference to find work elsewhere.
                  Of course she could take the comtesse’s jewels and clothes and set up as a young woman of fortune – but she would be living a lie.  While she was prepared to live this way here for the sake of the children and to preserve Madeline’s inheritance, she did not wish to carry such a burden for the rest of her life.
                  Sighing, she went up to her bedchamber and took a purse from her cabinet.  She kept her gambling money separate from her housekeeping and counted out the few coins left to her.  It would have been sufficient for Heloise and herself, but she needed more if she was to feed Moraven.  He had spoken of a title – was he a marquis as he claimed or just a smooth-tongued rogue?  It hardly mattered.  He would stay no more than a few days and then he would leave and she would never see him again.
                  Returning to the hall, she discovered that Heloise had disappeared.  She could hear the sound of her singing off key in the scullery but decided not to risk disturbing her.  Instead, she put on her cloak and bonnet and, taking her basket, went out into the street.  The market was several minutes walk and it would take a while to make the thick soup she had promised her guest.
     
     
    ‘Are you leaving, my lord?’  The innkeeper looked at Moraven in concern.  ‘I understood your stay would be longer?’
                  ‘I may return in a few days or so,’ Moraven shrugged carelessly.  ‘I have business elsewhere.’
                  ‘I trust you were satisfied with our service?’
                  ‘Yes, perfectly.  You will keep the large trunk here until I send its direction?’
                  ‘Yes, my lord.  Certainly.  We shall hope to see you again.’
                  Moraven left the hotel, carrying his bags outside to the waiting cab.  He gave the address and climbed inside, glancing out into the street as it drew away from the curb.  Had he been followed?  He did not think so, though he was sure that someone had followed