Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) by Ann Parker

accoutrements had swept her up and carried her along. Descriptions of its proximity to the medicinal springs and the natural wonders of Pike’s Peak, the Garden of the Gods, Rainbow Falls, and various canyons had painted visions of peace and, well, harmony. All of this and more had compelled her to suggest Manitou and the Mountain Springs House as the location for their meeting.
    She turned onto her back, inducing another squeal from the springs, and laced her hands behind her head, staring up at white painted ceiling boards. The name of the creek that had pushed her from sleep finally surfaced in her mind, emerging from the welter of descriptive prose she had scanned: Fountain Creek.
    A knock at her door brought her bolt up to sitting.
    “Inez?” Harmony’s voice came soft through the panels. “Are you awake?”
    “Yes. Give me a moment.” Inez hastened to the dressing screen, and grabbed the dressing gown she’d thrown over the top late last night before retiring. She threw it on and cracked open the door, revealing Harmony wearing a faint smile and a walking suit.
    “We are scheduled for the last breakfast sitting,” Harmony said. She glanced down the hall, somewhat nervously, then back at Inez. “Let’s take a private stroll on the second floor veranda before going down.”
    “Is William awake?”
    “Long since. The nannies and children dine early in The Ordinary. That’s the dining room where the children and their nannies often take their meals. Lily and William are out on their morning constitutional with the other children.”
    “You should have awakened me then.” Inez couldn’t help it: disappointment sharpened her words into an accusation.
    “Forgive me, dear sister.” Harmony sounded sympathetic but not particularly contrite. “I know you’re anxious to see your son, but there are things we need to talk about first. You will see him soon, I promise.”
    Inez tried to curb her impatience. An hour more or less was a small space of time compared to the months they had been apart. “Give me fifteen minutes,” she said, calculating how fast she could slip into her day wear.
    “I’ll be in my room.” Harmony shed her straw boater, and smoothed her hair, turning away.
    Inez closed the door and hurried into her undergarments, muttering as she adjusted her chemise and did up the front fastenings of her corset. She struggled into the tight-fitting cuirass bodice of her gray and cream striped ensemble, an outfit that, she hoped, would take her through the day until the more formal evening dining hour.
    With a sigh, she rummaged around in one of her trunks, extracting the silver hairbrush and a handful of pins, and did the best she could to fashion a simple French twist from her shoulder-length hair. With a further sigh, she tipped open one of the hatboxes, which disgorged a straw boater kin to the one her sister had sported. Throwing a lightweight shawl over her shoulders, she glanced at her soiled travel clothes, draped over the rocking chair. She hoped the laundress would be able to resurrect them.
    Inez exited the room, locked the door, and moved down the hall, running a finger along the walnut wainscoting. Harmony answered after one knock. Hooking her arm through Inez’s, she said, “We can take the air while I talk to you about a few things.”
    “I have much to discuss with you as well.”
    They went further down the hall and Harmony pushed open the door to the outside second-story veranda. “Nearly everyone’s gone for whatever adventures and constitutionals they have planned for the morning,” she explained. “I didn’t want to wake you early, given what happened yesterday and last night. Poor Mr. Pace, may he rest in peace.” She paused and added in a low voice, “I cannot imagine how it will be for Kirsten Pace, raising all those children without a father.”
    Inez had nearly forgotten, and wondered how she could have put the whole episode so completely out of mind. “Do you