Pentney House
Half past seven in the evening
Eloise had scrubbedher entire body twice, as she did her hair. But she still imagined the stench of the morgue clung to her. “Are you sure?” she demanded of Delie.
Her maid helped her into a cotton dressing gown. “I assure you, my lady. That horrid odor is gone. You smell like flowers and cinnamon.”
“No word of my father? He should have been back by now.”
Delie shook her head.
Eloise ran her fingers through her still damp hair, then sniffed the end of one lock.
“My lady—”
Eloise dropped the strand. “I believe you. What I cannot believe is how an odor like that can linger in my head.”
“It was a horrible place, my lady. You should not have gone.”
“I know.” She paused, chewing her lower lip. “But I had to, don’t you see? We had to know for sure whether—”
“That poor child.”
Eloise sank down on the bed and closed her eyes, wondering how long the image of that young boy on the table would stay with her. She had been relieved—overjoyed—that it was not Timothy, but her heart still broke at the sight of such a boy—far younger than Timothy—his life taken by some monster. The doctor had covered the child immediately after she had gasped, “No. Not him.” But the details had seared into her brain.
She could not allow that fate to touch her brother. She swallowed and looked up at her maid. “Do not let me sleep for more than an hour. Bring a tray up then, and I’ll eat here. Has my mother made it to the dining room at all in the last few days?”
“No, my lady. Before he left, your father gave Mullens instructions to provide Her Ladyship with as much of the ‘special tea’ as she wanted.”
Eloise pursed her lips. “Then I suspect she will sleep through the rest of Judith’s season.” She scowled. “We are not on for Almack’s tomorrow night, are we?”
“No, my lady. That is next week.”
“Good. So that only leaves the Haverton Ball on Friday night. Has she received many callers?”
“Not as many as you might expect from a lady in her first season. Only four this week. Two of them have paid several calls.”
“Hm. So one of those may be floating to the top. I assume her maid and Mullens are playing chaperone?”
“Most of the time. Your mother did make it downstairs yesterday afternoon.”
“Progress. Did she fall asleep?”
“A short doze.”
“Of course.” Eloise stood and turned back the covers on her bed. “I must leave no later than nine tonight.”
“Will you be going as Lord Edmund or in a gown?”
Eloise paused. “Lord Edmund?”
“Your”—Delie waved in the general direction of the dressing room—“disguise.”
Eloise grinned. “Lord Edmund. I like it.”
Delie shrugged. “I found it off-putting to continue calling you Lady Eloise when you look like... that.”
“I understand.”
