A Murder in Time(75)

She moved to the table where she kept the decanters. Pouring a splash of scotch into a glass—she allowed herself just two drinks a day, her father having cured her of any desire to use spirits to sink into oblivion—she took a quick sip, the taste strong and sharp on her tongue, as she considered the matter.

It would involve some delicacy. But surely the gent would see the inconvenience he’d given her? Replacing Lydia would require some diligence on her part. Not to mention the expense of dressing a new whore. And she had to lie to a Runner. Silence didn’t come cheap.

Taking another swallow of scotch, April sat down at her desk. She wasn’t dealing with some thief down the street. There were proprieties to be observed with the fancy. Best to send him a note outlining her dilemma. She reached for a foolscap and quill pen. Her eyes gleamed in the candlelight. Odd how life worked, she mused with a thin smile. Lydia’s unfortunate demise might actually turn out to be her most profitable transaction yet.





24

It was probably something of a world record, to be demoted from lady’s maid to downstairs maid, and then promoted to lady’s companion within a five-day time span. It certainly caused a stir below stairs, as everyone regarded Kendra with shock and a new sense of mistrust when she made her way to Mrs. Danbury’s office.

“This is highly irregular, Miss Donovan,” the housekeeper said, staring at her from across the shiny expanse of her desk. She then murmured, as though trying to explain to herself what motivated Lady Rebecca’s unprecedented behavior, “Though Lady Rebecca has always been charitable, even as a child.”

Maids, Kendra deduced, did not become hired companions. Ever. That, apparently, was reserved for women of rank who’d fallen on hard times. Sort of like a nineteenth-century welfare system for the privileged.

The housekeeper shook herself out of her reverie, straightening her narrow shoulders. Her lips tightened. “Nevertheless, if Lady Rebecca has indeed taken you on as her companion, arrangements will need to be made.”

“What kind of arrangements?” Kendra asked warily.

Mrs. Danbury lifted a heavy leather-bound book off the side shelf. “Sleeping arrangements, for one.” She opened the ledger, studying the pages with a critical eye. “All the castle’s spare rooms are occupied with either guests or their servants for the duration of the house party. However—”

“I don’t need to move out of the room that I’m in.”

The housekeeper lifted her brows. “Miss Donovan, you are no longer a servant . . . precisely. It wouldn’t be proper to sleep in the same room as a servant, especially a tweeny.”

“Says who?”

“Those are the rules, Miss Donovan.”

Fuck the rules, Kendra wanted to say. She wondered what the housekeeper’s reaction to that would be. Probably she’d faint dead away. “I’d prefer to stay where I am.”

“It’s not up to you! Lady Rebecca will decide, as you are now her responsibility.”

Frustration knotted Kendra’s stomach. “I’m my own responsibility!”

“The minute you set foot in Aldridge Castle, you were someone else’s responsibility, Miss Donovan,” the other woman corrected with a look of cold dislike. “As a maid, you were entirely dependent on the Duke’s largesse. And now you shall be answerable to Lady Rebecca. While you’ve managed to better yourself in a most extraordinary manner, I’d strongly advise you not to forget yourself, Miss Donovan. This is not America, where ill-mannered commoners pretend to be their betters. In England, we have a system, and you must learn your place in that system.”

Hell, no, Kendra thought, but clamped down on her rising irritation. Instead, she forced a smile as she stood. “I’m sure Lady Rebecca will agree that there’s no reason for me to change rooms. I’ll talk to her about it.”

She went to the door.

“Miss Donovan?”

Kendra paused. “Yes?”

“Why in heaven’s name do you insist on sharing a bedchamber with a tweeny?” Mrs. Danbury sounded genuinely baffled.

Kendra stared at her, momentarily at a loss. “Because it’s my choice, Mrs. Danbury,” she finally said. “It’s my choice.”



“You want to share a room with a chambermaid?” Lady Rebecca paused in the act of pouring tea.

“She’s a tweeny. And, yes, I see no reason to sleep anywhere else.” Kendra was beginning to feel slightly foolish for digging in her heels on this particular matter. After all, why did she care where she slept, as long as she eventually slept somewhere in the twenty-first century? That should be her main priority.

But, as she told Mrs. Danbury, it was her choice to sleep where she goddamned pleased. She was tired of everything being out of her control. This, at least, she could control.

Now she looked at Lady Rebecca, ready to argue, but the other woman simply shrugged and continued pouring tea. “As you wish. How do you take your tea—white or black?”

She found herself deflating. “Black. One sugar.”

Rebecca suppressed a smile as she added the lump of sugar, and thought how utterly absurd it was that she was serving tea to her companion, not the other way around. And yet Kendra appeared to find nothing abnormal about the tableau. The American was a puzzle. She understood why both the Duke and Alec were intrigued by her.