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At the bottom of the staircase, I paused, gripping the door ajar and peering into the dark hallway. Finding it empty, I held my breath and scampered across the space, sliding quickly into the morning room.
From the far wall, the doll gazed innocently back at me. I scowled at her before snatching her up and hurrying back into the hallway.
“And who are you?” a voice boomed into the passageway.
I froze, the blood in my veins running cold. The voice had bellowed from behind me, a similar timbre to the master of the house, only deeper and lower.
“Miss Samuels,” I said clearly, lifting my chin. I did not intend to be cowed by whoever stood behind me.
“Yes,” the man said with irritation, stepping around me. His face fell into a sliver of moonlight that shone in the window, casting his strong features into sharp relief. “Butwhoare you?”
With his familiar features, I immediately understood him to be the master’s younger brother, one of the party expected for the festivities. His face was very like his brother’s, although where his brother’s hair had an autumn tint to it, his was dark, as were his eyes. His jaw was squarer, too, and his build taller and broader. Nor did he sport a paunch like his brother. In fact, even through his coat, I could see his muscular build. He smelled of the countryside, of mud and earth and wind, and I wondered if he had only just arrived.
“Miss Samuels?” he prompted, frowning at me in a manner that dragged his heavy brows down over his eyes.
A sharp retort hovered on my tongue. I knew what he meant. He was enquiring after my position in the household. As a gentleman's daughter, it still smarted to admit I was now in service. But my father had died a year ago, leaving me an inheritance of bills and debts. I could not afford to lose this position. Penniless women like me were ten to the dozen.
“I am the governess,” I said, following his dark eyes as they roamed across my face.
His examination of me drew on and I shifted from one foot to the other, desperate to be away.
“Little Anne forgot her doll, and I was retrieving it.” I lifted the doll into the space between us and his gaze dropped to the well-loved toy. “I beg your pardon, Sir.” I curtsied. “I will return it to her now.”
He nodded curtly, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed to lean a little closer and inhale the air around me. I stiffened. But it seemed such a silly notion that I dismissed it as he stepped to one side. With relief, I darted towards the back stairs.
“Mr. Edwards,” he said, and I paused momentarily, my hand on the frigid door handle. “My name is Mr. Edwards.”
Chapter 2
The children settled quickly, their faces turning peaceful and their tiny chests rising and falling with steady breaths. I tucked the blankets around them and blew out the candles before retiring to my little room next door. Sleep did not come to me so easily, though. Despite our location high in the attic of the great house, noises from the party below seeped through the floorboards and echoed in the chimneys. I could hear every muffled word, every peel of laughter.
I sat in bed, my book spread across my knees, but I hardly turned a page. It seemed I must suffer a cruel punishment for my father’s sins, shut out from society and banished to the nursery where I would most likely remain forever.
As a child, I’d dreamt of something better than life as a governess. Of sailing across oceans, of exploring new lands, of setting forth on adventures. Of course, such dreams had been ridiculous. A gentle woman like me could never visit the Americas or the African continent. But at the very least, I’d expected trips to London. Even the Ton was now out of my reach, for while the lord and lady of the house had spent the season enjoying the delights of the capital, the children and I had remained in the country.
I sighed and closed my book, staring out of the window at the moon, almost full and ghostly white. I didn't have a clock in my sparsely furnished room, but I guessed it was long past midnight.
The revellers could sleep long into the morning. I, however, would be up at the crack of dawn with the children.
I sighed, flopping down on the bed and lifting the solid pillow over my head. I had hoped the visiting party would provide a little entertainment to break the endless drudgery of my days. If I was honest, I’d even hoped upon hope that the mistress would invite me to dine one evening, or perhaps let me join the ladies in the drawing room after dinner. But no, I remained doomed to my monotony up here in the rafters.
Below, doors slammed, and feet stumbled along floorboards. Finally, the party had come to an end. I listened as hushed voices faded, footsteps died away, and at last, the house lay in silence.
With a sigh of relief, I removed the pillow from my head and stared up at the ceiling.
Suddenly, a loud crack sounded from outside, followed by a thump and muffled cries.
I scurried from the bed to the window, hoping to catch sight of whatever scandal was surely occurring down in the gardens below. Perhaps it was not becoming of a young lady, but I was bitterly starved for entertainment and curiosity had always been my weakness.
But peering out of the window rewarded me with nothing but a view of the silver-lit garden, dark shadows criss-crossing the lawn and the trees bristling in the night air.
Had I imagined that sound?
I leaned my forehead upon the glass pane and stared out at the night, at the black hills of the countryside rolling endlessly towards the horizon, at the dense forest that lay to the west and the parkland beyond the gardens.
A movement below the window made me jump, a flash of fur at the very edge of my vision. My gaze snapped down, but there was nothing there.
Yet, there had been. I was sure of it. A fox? A deer? But so close to the house?
