She shifted slightly. Her head pounded and her ankles throbbed. Had she been clear enough in her response to encourage Mr. Dawson to act? She was making a huge number of assumptions: that Mr. Dawson would read her response, that he would be provoked enough to act, that he had someone listening inside her household who had passed along her hints.
She touched the bulge in her pocket that held one of the first items she’d procured after her husband’s death.
A muzzle-loaded revolver.
One that she would not hesitate to use on Mr. Dawson if he did not agree to her terms. She no longer cared what happened to her if it meant saving Constance. She would gladly sacrifice what was left of her haunted existence to stop Mr. Dawson from hurting anyone else.
Finally, a sound. A creaking from somewhere in the house.
She tensed.
Another creak, louder and closer. Someone was walking down the hallway. She leaned against the underside of the desk and peered through the small hole she had drilled through it. Mr. Dawson, or whomever he’d sent to do his bidding, would not get past her.
The door opened, inch by inch. A figure stepped inside, holding a candle and wearing a dark-blue servant’s uniform with a hooded cloak that obscured their features.
Walk closer, she thought. She had left the curtains open so that the person would have to step into the light from the streetlamps. She would wait for them to reach for the latch, then walk behind them and press the revolver to their head.
The figure crossed the room on soft feet, and as Olivia had predicted, stepped into the light cast from the window. When Olivia saw the girl’s face, she shot to her feet.
“Willow? What are you doing here?”
The maid squeaked and fumbled for the brass candleholder. Olivia caught it from her before the drapes lit on fire.
“M-My lady,” the maid stammered. “I-I was only…” her lower lip trembled. “I didn’t want to do it. Please don’t report me.”
Olivia sighed. “I won’t.” She couldn’t take her anger out on an innocent girl. Mr. Dawson had bested her again. She reached into her pocket and withdrew several bills, a fraction of what she had gathered to convince Mr. Dawson to leave the country. She pressed them into the maid’s hand. “You will have more when your task is complete.”
The maid’s eyes widened as she clenched her fingers around the bills, which represented several years’ worth of standard wages. She could find a new position or buy a small cottage in the country if she wished. It was a life-changing amount of money, and it had the desired effect.
“What do you wish me to do?” the maid asked.
“Take me to your employer.”
###
Olivia’s carriage rattled up to a familiar house. She was still reeling from the knowledge she’d extracted from the maid, but she could not disassemble until the confrontation was over.
She exhaled a long breath before exiting the carriage, then flipped up the hood on the cloak she had borrowed from Willow and found the rear entrance. Once inside, she shuffled into the kitchen, which was bustling despite the late hour. The clang of dishes and the sound of chopping surrounded her. She kept her head down and walked with purpose until she reachedthe stairs. She hefted her skirts and climbed until her armpits were damp. Then she walked three doors down and knocked. The door creaked open, and a pale face peered out at her. She did not wait for an invitation but shoved her foot into the crack and pushed inside.
A pale woman cowered beneath a blanket on the large bed on the far side of the room.
It was Thel’s brother’s wife, Lady Felix. Celina Vaith.
“How dare you enter my room?!” Lady Felix shrieked. She threw her blankets off her legs and stood, dressed only in her night rail.
Olivia had her revolver out of her pocket and leveled at Lady Felix before the woman could take another step. The weight of it was reassuring, even as she internally quaked at the knowledge of how much damage it could do. She’d been ready to kill Mr. Dawson, with the certainty that she’d be preventing countless girls from falling into his trap, but she was not sure she could shoot a woman.
Lady Felix’s maid sputtered as she backed into the corner, a flimsy pillow clutched in her hands.
“Leave us,” Lady Felix said.
The girl darted across the room and exited, letting the door slam shut behind her.
“I assume you caught Willow,” Lady Felix said. “Well, if you intend to kill me, do it now before I change my mind.”
There was none of the anger Olivia had expected in her tone. It was as if the enemy she’d been prepared to face was nothing more than a fearsome shadow cast by an otherwise innocuous object.
“Why me?” Olivia asked.
