in Charles Reading’s arms, heard her piteous cry for him. She might be too blinded by infatuation to see Etienne’s worth.
Except that Lydia had never been easily swayed. Despite all the men, young and old, who’d been naturally smitten by her charm and beauty, she’d viewed them all with impartial affection.
That was not how she viewed Reading.
Elinor opened her eyes to the gray-green light that filled the room. She closed them again for a moment, her nerve failing her, and then opened them once more, resolutely, and made herself sit up in bed.
And what a bed it was. The sheets felt like silk. She looked around her slowly. She had no idea how she’d gotten there—her memory of the night before was hazy and jumbled. She remembered that Nanny had died, slipping away peacefully. And she’d gone in search of Lydia, in this vast, dark house. And then nothing.
She was no longer wearing her shabby nightdress. Someone had stripped it off her, replacing it with something made of the finest cambric. She no longer stank of soot and smoke—she’d been bathed as well, and when she swung her legs out of bed she saw that her feet had been bandaged.
For a moment the notion startled her. The thought of being stripped and bathed when she had no knowledge of it was unsettling in the extreme, but then she reminded herself that her unwilling host would have had no part in it. He’d have waved a pale, careless hand to have his servants take care of her and forgotten her existence.
She climbed down from the high, impossibly comfortable bed and limped toward the window. The room was huge, a fact which startled her. Such elegancies made her uncomfortable. She pushed open the curtain, letting in the murky light. She had no idea what time it was, and the light outside was no help. They were in the midst of a blizzard. The snow had piled up everywhere, and it was coming down at a fierce rate, blasting against the windows. She could feel the cold radiating from outside, and she pulled the curtains shut again, shivering.
The fire was glowing brightly, sending forth waves of heat, and she turned and moved toward it. There was a robe laid across the foot of her bed, and she pulled it around her.
She felt as if the blizzard had entered her brain as well—she wasn’t thinking clearly. She’d slept too long, or not long enough, but she could no longer afford such weakness.
She pushed open the door to a corridor filled with servants. One of the maids immediately ceased what she was doing and came to the door. “You’re awake, mademoiselle,” she said, stating the obvious. “Last time I checked on you, you were still sound asleep. If you go back to your room I’ll bring you some dinner…”
Elinor looked past her at the hallway. The servants were busy wrapping black cloth around the portraits and windows, a singularly odd procedure. “I need to see my sister,” she said. “Could you take me to her?”
The young maid hesitated. “His lordship said you were to keep to your room and not wander….”
“If you take me directly to my sister I wouldn’t be wandering,” she said reasonably. “And if you won’t take me there I’ll find her on my own.”
The maid looked doubtful, but she nodded. “Would you like to dress first, mademoiselle?”
“I have no clothes.”
“I’ve filled your closet, mademoiselle. His lordship’s orders.”
And now she was going to have to be grateful to the King of Hell for the clothes on her back. The alternative was not acceptable, not at this moment, but the last time a man had provided clothes for her had been six years ago, and the memory still had the capacity to make her ill.
“I’ll see my sister first, thank you…?”
“Jeanne-Louise,” the girl offered. “As you wish, mademoiselle. If you will come this way.” She started toward the stairs, and Elinor pulled back.
“My sister’s room isn’t near mine?”
“No, mademoiselle.”
That seemed extremely odd. She could feel the servants’ eyes on her as she followed Jeanne-Louise up the winding stairs. Even with the bandages her feet were painful, but she was determined not to limp, not with so many people watching her. The marble staircase was hard and cold beneath her feet, and she gritted her teeth and climbed. Why would Lydia have been put on a different floor entirely? It made no sense.
They reached the next flight, and then Jeanne-Louise turned right, heading into