in some profession, then she'd keep house for him. Naturally, she expected him to marry. If she got along with her sister-in-law, well and good. If not, she'd go back to earning her own living.
The prospect was daunting. This was not how she'd imagined her life would unfold. She'd dreamed of having her own home, a husband, children. She'd had suitors in her younger days, but their interest had waned when they realized that they were taking on not only a wife but her brother, as well.
It was no wonder that she was tempted, occasionally, to let Aurora have her head.
The moment her coach pulled up outside the Tuileries, she knew something was wrong. Across the road, the hotel blazed with lights. She'd never been out this late before, but she knew that it was too early for any of the guests to be up and about. Yet there were lights at all the upstairs windows. The ground-floor windows were shuttered, but even there lights glimmered.
Heart thudding against her ribs, she paid off her driver and walked to the corner of the next street, cut across the rue de Rivoli and made her way to the side door. She had the key ready to insert in the lock when the lock turned from the inside and the door swung open. The porter was waiting for her. She slipped her key into her pocket before he could see it, then sailed by him with a cheery, “
Bonjour,
Georges,” as though there was nothing unusual in her arriving home at this unearthly hour.
“Arrêtez!”
His tone was threatening.
“Don't you recognize me, Georges? It's Miss Hill, Lady Sedgewick's companion.”
He nodded. “They're waiting upstairs for you.”
She hoped she'd misunderstood his dialect. While he watched her with eagle eyes, she sedately mounted the stairs, but when she turned the corner, she ran like a hare.
The key to her chamber was at the bottom of her pochette. She dug around, found it, and whisked herself inside her room the moment she had the door open.
For a few moments, she stood with her back pressed against the door, waiting for her breath to even, trying to calm her chaotic thoughts.
They're waiting upstairs for you.
She'd been found out. Something dreadful must have happened in her absence, and they'd discovered she wasn't on the premises. Dear Lord, what could she say?
Georges's warning spurred her to action. The first order of business was to light a candle. That done, she took the money from her pochette and stowed it in the traveling box where she kept her stationery. Then, she began to strip out of her clothes. She could hear voices coming from a room farther down the corridor, and that made her hurry all the more.
She was undoing the buttons on her gown when someone knocked at her door.
“Miss Hill? I know you're there!” The voice belonged to Staples, Lady Sedgewick's elderly abigail. “The porter told me. Her ladyship wants to see you at once.”
Ellie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Miss Staples had the instincts of an English bulldog. There was no escaping her, so she tried a little prevarication.
“What is it, Miss Staples? What's wrong?”
Miss Staples snorted. “It's no good pretending you don't know. At once, Miss Hill. Those are her ladyship's orders.”
“Give me a few moments to get dressed.”
“
Now,
Miss Hill. Or shall I fetch her ladyship?”
Ellie ground her teeth together. There wasn't time to get out of her dress and put on her nightgown. Reaching for her dressing robe, she shrugged into it. The rest of her costume—her overdress, gloves, shoes, pochette, along with Jack's cloak—were hastily deposited in her closet. At the last moment, she remembered to remove her silver combs and put on her embroidered slippers. When she opened the door, her stomach was in a knot.
Miss Staples's experienced eyes took her in at a glance, then she sniffed and led the way down the carpeted corridor to Lady Sedgewick's private parlor. At least, thought Ellie, the abigail wasn't spiteful to her in particular. She was
The prospect was daunting. This was not how she'd imagined her life would unfold. She'd dreamed of having her own home, a husband, children. She'd had suitors in her younger days, but their interest had waned when they realized that they were taking on not only a wife but her brother, as well.
It was no wonder that she was tempted, occasionally, to let Aurora have her head.
The moment her coach pulled up outside the Tuileries, she knew something was wrong. Across the road, the hotel blazed with lights. She'd never been out this late before, but she knew that it was too early for any of the guests to be up and about. Yet there were lights at all the upstairs windows. The ground-floor windows were shuttered, but even there lights glimmered.
Heart thudding against her ribs, she paid off her driver and walked to the corner of the next street, cut across the rue de Rivoli and made her way to the side door. She had the key ready to insert in the lock when the lock turned from the inside and the door swung open. The porter was waiting for her. She slipped her key into her pocket before he could see it, then sailed by him with a cheery, “
Bonjour,
Georges,” as though there was nothing unusual in her arriving home at this unearthly hour.
“Arrêtez!”
His tone was threatening.
“Don't you recognize me, Georges? It's Miss Hill, Lady Sedgewick's companion.”
He nodded. “They're waiting upstairs for you.”
She hoped she'd misunderstood his dialect. While he watched her with eagle eyes, she sedately mounted the stairs, but when she turned the corner, she ran like a hare.
The key to her chamber was at the bottom of her pochette. She dug around, found it, and whisked herself inside her room the moment she had the door open.
For a few moments, she stood with her back pressed against the door, waiting for her breath to even, trying to calm her chaotic thoughts.
They're waiting upstairs for you.
She'd been found out. Something dreadful must have happened in her absence, and they'd discovered she wasn't on the premises. Dear Lord, what could she say?
Georges's warning spurred her to action. The first order of business was to light a candle. That done, she took the money from her pochette and stowed it in the traveling box where she kept her stationery. Then, she began to strip out of her clothes. She could hear voices coming from a room farther down the corridor, and that made her hurry all the more.
She was undoing the buttons on her gown when someone knocked at her door.
“Miss Hill? I know you're there!” The voice belonged to Staples, Lady Sedgewick's elderly abigail. “The porter told me. Her ladyship wants to see you at once.”
Ellie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Miss Staples had the instincts of an English bulldog. There was no escaping her, so she tried a little prevarication.
“What is it, Miss Staples? What's wrong?”
Miss Staples snorted. “It's no good pretending you don't know. At once, Miss Hill. Those are her ladyship's orders.”
“Give me a few moments to get dressed.”
“
Now,
Miss Hill. Or shall I fetch her ladyship?”
Ellie ground her teeth together. There wasn't time to get out of her dress and put on her nightgown. Reaching for her dressing robe, she shrugged into it. The rest of her costume—her overdress, gloves, shoes, pochette, along with Jack's cloak—were hastily deposited in her closet. At the last moment, she remembered to remove her silver combs and put on her embroidered slippers. When she opened the door, her stomach was in a knot.
Miss Staples's experienced eyes took her in at a glance, then she sniffed and led the way down the carpeted corridor to Lady Sedgewick's private parlor. At least, thought Ellie, the abigail wasn't spiteful to her in particular. She was
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