down the hall.
“Beatrice, what is it?”
Her cousin keened softly. “Something awful. Just dreadful. I need your help.”
The woman was distressed beyond reason. “Come in, Beatrice,” Hannah replied in an even tone, hoping to calm her. “We will talk about it. I am sure whatever it is, there is a reasonable solution.”
“No!” Beatrice reached out to wrap her long fingers around Hannah’s wrist. “You have to come with me. Immediately.”
She began to tug violently on Hannah’s arm.
“Wait, I must fetch a robe.”
“No time,” Beatrice insisted, choking on a sob. “It is just horrible. Please, you have to help me.”
Alarmed at her cousin’s odd behavior, Hannah allowed herself to be pulled down the hallway, hoping they were just going to her cousin’s bedroom.
They were not.
Beatrice kept a death grip around Hannah’s wrist as she tugged her all the way down the hall to a servant’s stairway at the back of the house. Down they went to the ground floor, Beatrice shushing Hannah every time she tried to question what had happened or where they were going.
They continued along a narrow, darkened corridor, one that looked similar to the one Hannah had gotten lost in the night she’d met Lord Whitely. Hannah rushed along behind Beatrice, her bare feet making barely a sound. Wearing only her nightdress with her hair falling free down her back, she was grateful for the lack of light as they made their way past a series of rooms that opened off the corridor. She had no idea if it was late enough to assume everyone was asleep and sent a silent wish that they would not have the misfortune to encounter anyone.
A faint glow could be seen up ahead, signaling the end of the corridor. Beatrice stopped in front of a room several paces from the reach of light. She finally released Hannah’s hand and pointed into the unlit room.
“There. You have to see for yourself.”
Hannah couldn’t help but be suspicious of her cousin’s motives. Beatrice had not exactly been a friend to her since she arrived in England. But as she glanced at her cousin’s pale face, nearly twitching in her anxiety, she knew she would have to at least take a look. She could not imagine it was anything truly awful.
“Are you coming with me?” she asked.
Beatrice shook her head and backed away, saying in a quivering whisper, “I cannot.”
Hannah nearly rolled her eyes, but she knew that if she were ever to get back to her bed, she was going to have to play this out.
Hannah entered the room. A pair of tall windows allowed the faintest shimmer of moonlight into the space. Since Hannah’s eyes were already accustomed to the darkness, it was more than enough to see that she was in a sort of music room. She scanned the shadows for some evidence of what had so distressed Beatrice. All was silent and still, with nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing that could have caused such a panic in her cousin.
To be sure, Hannah decided to make a full circle of the room before returning to Beatrice to ease her cousin’s mind and find out specifically what had roused the other woman’s fright.
Just as she came around the piano set in the far corner, she sensed a shift in the room. She looked back toward the doorway and stopped suddenly at the sight of Lord Whitely.
Tilting her head, Hannah scowled. “What on earth…?”
He came forward, and though Hannah’s skin tingled and the hairs on her arms rose, it was not from fear. Rather it was the sort of magnetic attraction she had come to expect whenever in the company of this man.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a harsh whisper.
His steps hesitated and his open expression shifted into one of bewilderment. “What do you mean? You sent me a note, asking me to meet you.”
She shook her head. “No, I did not,” she muttered. The truth hit Hannah like a searing arrow to her center. “Beatrice.”
What trouble had her cousin concocted now?
Hannah rushed
“Beatrice, what is it?”
Her cousin keened softly. “Something awful. Just dreadful. I need your help.”
The woman was distressed beyond reason. “Come in, Beatrice,” Hannah replied in an even tone, hoping to calm her. “We will talk about it. I am sure whatever it is, there is a reasonable solution.”
“No!” Beatrice reached out to wrap her long fingers around Hannah’s wrist. “You have to come with me. Immediately.”
She began to tug violently on Hannah’s arm.
“Wait, I must fetch a robe.”
“No time,” Beatrice insisted, choking on a sob. “It is just horrible. Please, you have to help me.”
Alarmed at her cousin’s odd behavior, Hannah allowed herself to be pulled down the hallway, hoping they were just going to her cousin’s bedroom.
They were not.
Beatrice kept a death grip around Hannah’s wrist as she tugged her all the way down the hall to a servant’s stairway at the back of the house. Down they went to the ground floor, Beatrice shushing Hannah every time she tried to question what had happened or where they were going.
They continued along a narrow, darkened corridor, one that looked similar to the one Hannah had gotten lost in the night she’d met Lord Whitely. Hannah rushed along behind Beatrice, her bare feet making barely a sound. Wearing only her nightdress with her hair falling free down her back, she was grateful for the lack of light as they made their way past a series of rooms that opened off the corridor. She had no idea if it was late enough to assume everyone was asleep and sent a silent wish that they would not have the misfortune to encounter anyone.
A faint glow could be seen up ahead, signaling the end of the corridor. Beatrice stopped in front of a room several paces from the reach of light. She finally released Hannah’s hand and pointed into the unlit room.
“There. You have to see for yourself.”
Hannah couldn’t help but be suspicious of her cousin’s motives. Beatrice had not exactly been a friend to her since she arrived in England. But as she glanced at her cousin’s pale face, nearly twitching in her anxiety, she knew she would have to at least take a look. She could not imagine it was anything truly awful.
“Are you coming with me?” she asked.
Beatrice shook her head and backed away, saying in a quivering whisper, “I cannot.”
Hannah nearly rolled her eyes, but she knew that if she were ever to get back to her bed, she was going to have to play this out.
Hannah entered the room. A pair of tall windows allowed the faintest shimmer of moonlight into the space. Since Hannah’s eyes were already accustomed to the darkness, it was more than enough to see that she was in a sort of music room. She scanned the shadows for some evidence of what had so distressed Beatrice. All was silent and still, with nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing that could have caused such a panic in her cousin.
To be sure, Hannah decided to make a full circle of the room before returning to Beatrice to ease her cousin’s mind and find out specifically what had roused the other woman’s fright.
Just as she came around the piano set in the far corner, she sensed a shift in the room. She looked back toward the doorway and stopped suddenly at the sight of Lord Whitely.
Tilting her head, Hannah scowled. “What on earth…?”
He came forward, and though Hannah’s skin tingled and the hairs on her arms rose, it was not from fear. Rather it was the sort of magnetic attraction she had come to expect whenever in the company of this man.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a harsh whisper.
His steps hesitated and his open expression shifted into one of bewilderment. “What do you mean? You sent me a note, asking me to meet you.”
She shook her head. “No, I did not,” she muttered. The truth hit Hannah like a searing arrow to her center. “Beatrice.”
What trouble had her cousin concocted now?
Hannah rushed
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