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“Pleasant dreams, Victoria.”
She closed the door and waited. As soon as she heard the door across the hall shut, she quietly opened her own—only to see Amelia’s flinty eyes staring right back at her.
“I was just going to pop down to the kitchens for a cup of tea,” Victoria said lamely. “The servants have been so busy with the guests, I thought not to trouble them at this late hour.”
Amelia’s smile was beatific. “Our servants have enjoyed a life of ease these past ten years, earning generous wages with very little effort. A cup of tea should be no imposition.” She barged past, taking the opportunity to have a good look about the room. “Come, I shall ring for you.”
“Thank you, but that really isn’t necessary,” Victoria said hastily, running ahead of her and blocking the way. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I shall just go to bed.”
“Nonsense, a cup of tea will help settle you and you’ll sleep better undisturbed.” Amelia reached around her and grabbed the bell. Moments later, their maid, Hannah, appeared. “Chamomile tea for my sister, please. To help her rest.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
After the girl departed, Amelia turned to her sibling, all pretense vanished. “If you think for one moment that I shall sleep a single instant while that man is in this house, you may think again. Papa may have made the mistake of trusting him to sleep under our roof, but I certainly shan’t. A mouse won’t be able to move in this hallway tonight without my knowing it!”
Victoria’s face grew hot. How dare she! “Withy has done nothing to deserve your animosity! He is a good man, and you blacken his character without justification!”
Amelia snorted indelicately. “His character is already black enough without my adding any color to it.”
“And there is nothing I or anyone else can say to convince you otherwise,” Victoria muttered darkly. “Time will have to prove to you the truth of the matter, I suppose.”
“You’re right,” agreed Amelia. “And time will end before I trust that man.”
“You’re impossible!”
“And you are a reckless fool,” said Amelia, turning just as the door opened to admit Hannah.
Victoria bit her tongue, frustrated at having been thwarted.
“Sleep well,” sang Amelia softly as she left the room.
Victoria fumed. She had to speak with Julius! She could send one of the servants with a note—but no, it was too risky. Maybe Charlie…if she went to the stables early, she could send him with a message and have Julius meet her somewhere to solidify tomorrow’s plans.
That was it, then. She would sneak out just before dawn. By then her sister would surely have fallen asleep.
She wasn’t sure how she would manage the climb in her riding costume, though. Maybe she should wear her breeches to climb down, carrying her skirt in a pillow sleeve. She could change once she reached the stable. Better yet, why not simply wear it over the breeches? The extra layer beneath would certainly make tomorrow’s ride a lot more comfortable, too.
Going to her window, she quietly opened it, careful not to let the hinges creak. The scent of the brisk, cold air calmed her. Yes. It would work.
Just as she was about to turn away, a soft curse rose from the shadows at the base of the tree. A crackling of twigs was followed by the sound of desperate scrabbling and another muffled curse, this one closer.
Someone was climbing her tree. Someone obviously unskilled and unaware of the handholds she’d cut into its trunk. Her heart skipped a beat. Surely Julius would never attempt such a foolhardy thing!
Even as Victoria watched, a pair of hands and then a head popped up over the branch by her window—it was Withington. The poor fellow was hanging on for dear life, his long legs swinging out wildly, his booted feet questing for purchase.
She leaned as far out of the casement as was safe. “What are you doing?” she whispered hoarsely. “Are you completely insane?”
“Just trying—umph!—to get a moment’s privacy in which to—umph!—speak with you!”
Victoria stifled a giggle as he managed to finally lever one leg up over the branch. The sight of him clinging to the limb upside down was priceless. He shot her a sour look and pushed up to straddle the branch.
“Be careful, for heaven’s sake!” she whispered urgently as he scooted closer. “And take hold of the eave before you attempt to cross!”
He raised a knowing brow. “I take it you’ve done this a few times.”
She grinned. “If you’d asked me, I could have told you about the handholds in the trunk.”
Cursing, Withy inched out a bit farther and did as she instructed, at last bridging the gap in safety.
