Garland’s house. She had been a fool to meet him again, to waste so much as a second of her time listening to him. She had fallen for him once before and clearly he thought that she was likely to fall for him again. How wrong he was. How wrong and deceitful and cruel.
Her hands were still shaking so much as she picked up her candlestick from a table in the hall and clumsily looked in her pocket for a tinder to relight it that in the end she had to sit down on the bottom step lest she drop it and burn the house down. The pale stone of the stairs was smooth and cold beneath her skirts and gradually the chill began to seep through to her flesh, calming her fluttering heart as it did so. ‘I am an idiot,’ she told herself angrily, blinking away hot, furious tears. ‘How could I have been so reckless?’
Sidonie sat there for what felt like a long time in the darkness, listening to the comforting ticking of the tall wooden clock on the landing while in her mind she was eighteen and back in her cramped, cold garret in Paris again, listening to the rain fall heavily against the flimsy window panes as she lay in bed with her lover. She closed her eyes as she remembered his long fingers circling her breasts then moving slowly down her body as she gasped and shivered with delight then turned her face back to his for a kiss.
That was all in the past now. Over and done with. She stretched out her frozen limbs and clambered to her feet. The candle was easy to light this time and with a weary heart she went up the stairs to her room. The packing could wait until tomorrow and she was no longer in the mood for her book.
‘I saw you.’ The hiss came from close by and alarmed, she whirled around, peering into the gloom that lay beyond the light of her candle. At first she couldn’t see anything but then suddenly a figure loomed out of the darkness. It was Minette. ‘I saw you meet him on the bridge.’
Sidonie gave a nervous laugh. ‘Really, my dear, you made me jump! What on earth do you think you are doing?’
‘What do you think you are doing?’ Minette repeated with a sneer. ‘I saw you with him. I followed you.’
Sidonie recoiled from the other woman. ‘You saw nothing,’ she said with a shaking voice. ‘The Comte was imprudent enough to ask for my help with Miss Wrotham and I told him that she is beyond my influence. That is all.’
‘That’s not really all, is it?’ Minette replied, stepping closer. ‘You kissed. I saw it all.’
Sidonie backed away. ‘You are mistaken, Minette,’ she said as calmly as she could. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I am going to go to bed.’
‘I won’t forget what I saw,’ Minette whispered as she hurried past to the safety of her room. ‘I’d watch my step if I were you, Mademoiselle Roche. You think you are so much better than me, but you’re not are you.’
Chapter Six
London, July 1787
Miss Phoebe Knowles looked around nervously as she stepped down from her carriage and prepared to navigate the crowded, noisy piazza that lay in front of the Covent Garden market. The cobbles were covered with a revolting, slushy slew of mud, discarded play bills, rotten food and horse urine and she fastidiously raised her voluminous pale green watered silk skirts above her ankles as she briskly edged through the jostling crowd, pausing only to admire a particularly skilful juggler who plied his trade in the middle of a throng of cat calling and applauding spectators.
‘Can I help you, Miss?’ A plump, over rouged female with frizzy blonde hair and several missing teeth stepped in front of her and reached out to touch Phoebe’s green silk sleeve, which she quickly whisked out of reach of her grimy fingers. ‘You look lost.’ She stank of cheap musky scent and gin.
Phoebe shook her head and touched the black silk domino mask that she had put on in the carriage, reassuring herself that it was still in place. ‘No, I am not lost,’ she said curtly. ‘I know where I
Her hands were still shaking so much as she picked up her candlestick from a table in the hall and clumsily looked in her pocket for a tinder to relight it that in the end she had to sit down on the bottom step lest she drop it and burn the house down. The pale stone of the stairs was smooth and cold beneath her skirts and gradually the chill began to seep through to her flesh, calming her fluttering heart as it did so. ‘I am an idiot,’ she told herself angrily, blinking away hot, furious tears. ‘How could I have been so reckless?’
Sidonie sat there for what felt like a long time in the darkness, listening to the comforting ticking of the tall wooden clock on the landing while in her mind she was eighteen and back in her cramped, cold garret in Paris again, listening to the rain fall heavily against the flimsy window panes as she lay in bed with her lover. She closed her eyes as she remembered his long fingers circling her breasts then moving slowly down her body as she gasped and shivered with delight then turned her face back to his for a kiss.
That was all in the past now. Over and done with. She stretched out her frozen limbs and clambered to her feet. The candle was easy to light this time and with a weary heart she went up the stairs to her room. The packing could wait until tomorrow and she was no longer in the mood for her book.
‘I saw you.’ The hiss came from close by and alarmed, she whirled around, peering into the gloom that lay beyond the light of her candle. At first she couldn’t see anything but then suddenly a figure loomed out of the darkness. It was Minette. ‘I saw you meet him on the bridge.’
Sidonie gave a nervous laugh. ‘Really, my dear, you made me jump! What on earth do you think you are doing?’
‘What do you think you are doing?’ Minette repeated with a sneer. ‘I saw you with him. I followed you.’
Sidonie recoiled from the other woman. ‘You saw nothing,’ she said with a shaking voice. ‘The Comte was imprudent enough to ask for my help with Miss Wrotham and I told him that she is beyond my influence. That is all.’
‘That’s not really all, is it?’ Minette replied, stepping closer. ‘You kissed. I saw it all.’
Sidonie backed away. ‘You are mistaken, Minette,’ she said as calmly as she could. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I am going to go to bed.’
‘I won’t forget what I saw,’ Minette whispered as she hurried past to the safety of her room. ‘I’d watch my step if I were you, Mademoiselle Roche. You think you are so much better than me, but you’re not are you.’
Chapter Six
London, July 1787
Miss Phoebe Knowles looked around nervously as she stepped down from her carriage and prepared to navigate the crowded, noisy piazza that lay in front of the Covent Garden market. The cobbles were covered with a revolting, slushy slew of mud, discarded play bills, rotten food and horse urine and she fastidiously raised her voluminous pale green watered silk skirts above her ankles as she briskly edged through the jostling crowd, pausing only to admire a particularly skilful juggler who plied his trade in the middle of a throng of cat calling and applauding spectators.
‘Can I help you, Miss?’ A plump, over rouged female with frizzy blonde hair and several missing teeth stepped in front of her and reached out to touch Phoebe’s green silk sleeve, which she quickly whisked out of reach of her grimy fingers. ‘You look lost.’ She stank of cheap musky scent and gin.
Phoebe shook her head and touched the black silk domino mask that she had put on in the carriage, reassuring herself that it was still in place. ‘No, I am not lost,’ she said curtly. ‘I know where I
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