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He looked pained at this. “I really don’t know what to do about you, Miss Hazlett. Wicked governesses are not within my realms of experience or expertise. I think I shall have to ask Lord Debenham when I hand him this.”
So here she was, alone and vulnerable. Seemingly friendless. Cosmo was taking the sketch of Sir Aubrey to Lord Debenham himself, and then what would happen? If Lord Smythe were indeed a traitor, perhaps his close ties to Sir Aubrey, as evidenced by her drawing, would be enough to convict them both in the court of public opinion, failing more substantive evidence. If only Araminta had not burned the letter that revealed the truth.
It was long since the dinner hour but no one had brought her refreshment, other than a jug of water, which had been left on a chest of drawers at the time of her incarceration.
She was desperately hungry, yet terrified when several taps sounded at the door.
“Miss Hazlett, I have a message for you.” Without waiting for a response before she left, the maid passed her a plate with a single slice of pie, beside which was a folded note. Lissa recognized Cosmo’s hand-writing. Her legs were shaking so much she had to sit down to read it.
“Change into travelling clothes. Lord Debenham will fetch you.”
She swallowed but it did not help the dryness at the back of her throat. At the same time her palms felt clammy and the back of her neck prickled with fear.
So she was to be kidnapped and discredited. Or would she be disposed of in some more permanent manner? After all, if Lord Debenham thought she’d seen what was in the letter, who knew what he might do?
In an attempt to keep her terror at bay, she began to pace until finally she collapsed upon her bed, pulling the thin gray coverlet up around her shoulders. Travelling clothes? As if she had a wardrobe that encompassed a variety of changes. The drab cotton gown she wore would have to do service for whatever was in store.
Lissa had known deprivation. The small home in the village by the bridge, which she’d shared with her mother and sister and brother before she’d been sent away to become a governess, had not been commodious or luxurious. Yet it was where her father chose to spend most of his time, cocooned with her mother, the two of them living in a world of their own, which took little account of their growing brood of illegitimate children.
She’d never been close to her mother, or her father; home had not been a place of warmth, but, oh, how she longed to feel the warmth that only Ralph had ever made her feel.
She exhaled on a sob, then straightened at the sound of raindrops.
She hoped it poured, and that Master Cosmo and his sketch were drenched. He was a cruel, spoilt boy, and his sister was no better. Miss Maria had marched up the stairs, shrieking at her through the door that Lissa obviously planned to ruin Maria’s chances of a good match. Of course, the girl’s encounter with Lord Debenham had terrified her but if she hadn’t purloined the green dress that was meant for Lissa she wouldn’t have found herself in such a frightening situation. It was a sad reflection on Miss Maria’s character that she insisted that evil machinations on Lissa’s part were behind the unfortunate encounters both she and her brother had had with His Lordship.
The rain appeared to have subsided, though another smattering of raindrops sounded an odd note. Lissa stood up and peered through the window, but her view was limited to mostly rooftops. By standing on the bed, however, and looking down she could just manage to see onto the street.
After a minute or so she heard a single “ping” against the window. Picking up the candlestick that flickered on the chest of drawers, she held it to her face. Somebody, she suspected, was down in the street.
Her body quivered with hope and excitement.
That somebody might just be Ralph.
In a growing fever of hopeful anticipation, she waited.
She was expecting the sound of footsteps in the passage. After all, the only way to gain entry to her room was via an internal staircase. So it was to her horror, after a noisy flutter of wings and squawking drew her to the window, that she saw illuminated in the faint gaslight cast from a nearby attic window her ever-faithful and trusty Ralph Tunley climbing the drainpipe two stories down.
With a cry of fear, she banged on the window, shaking her head furiously as if that might do any good when he was already more up than down.
He raised his head and grinned at her horrified fury, kissing his fingertips and blowing his appreciation toward her. He was probably too far away for her to hear him but he clearly did
not wish to make any noise, for he indicated his intended movements by pointing toward what she could only assume was a window he could enter. Her window was too tiny and besides, her room was locked.
But there were people in the house. Servants and the Lamont family themselves. Lissa quaked at the potential for discovery. The Lamonts had no mercy. They’d claim he was a burglar and throw him down the stairs. He might break his neck or end up in Newgate Prison. Lord Debenham was not likely to vouch for him.
No, Ralph had gone out on a limb in all senses of the word, and he’d done it for her. Lissa. No one had ever striven to such an extent on her behalf. No one had ever really taken much notice of her, ever, but it was not the fact Ralph was the only man who could melt her heart that made him so special. No, Ralph was truly a remarkable young man in his own right.
Her thoughts were still travelling along these lines when she heard the key turn slowly in the lock. Suddenly the door was thrust open and there stood Ralph, grinning as if he was presenting her with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, rather than offering her freedom.
She flew into his arms and kissed him roundly on the lips, drew back to grin right at him, then kissed him again. All without a sound.
He looked remarkably pleased by the attention and then, without a word, he took her hand, put his finger to his lips, and quietly led her down the stairs.
Her hopes were confirmed that there was no one about on the nursery floor.
The next floor down, where the bedrooms were, ought to be empty too. It was this floor where Ralph had made his entry, for Lissa could feel the breeze from an open window. Now she realized that it was toward this very window Ralph was drawing her, and she froze with horror.
There was a tremendous drop to the pavement. How would she navigate the descent in her skirts? She tried to resist but he was insistent, albeit without making a sound.
