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Chapter 13
Sam got dressed in her riding habit and knocked on James’s door the first thing in the morning. The door opened, and the footman appeared, only instead of his usual friendly smile, Sam was greeted with stony features.
“I have explicit instructions not to accompany you anywhere, Miss,” he said in an even—if slightly trembling—voice.
“All right.” Sam turned on her heel. “Then I am going by myself.”
She heard a long, wary sigh behind her, and she slowed her step.
“I’ll be ready in a moment, Miss,” her favorite footman finally called behind her.
She turned to him with a sunny smile.
“But if I get booted—” he started.
“I shall provide for you handsomely,” Sam interrupted with a smile. She turned back toward the stairs and heard the shuffling noise of James’s footsteps.
Several minutes later, she stood at the servants’ entrance to Evie’s house. She knew she wouldn’t be welcomed inside if she came knocking on the front door, not with Lady Montbrook standing guard, but she needed to speak to Evie, desperately.
The door opened, and Mrs. Lambert appeared on the doorstep.
“Miss Samantha.” She curtsied and ushered her in. “We were hoping you would come to see Her Grace off.”
“Off?” Sam stopped, her eyes wide. “She is still leaving?”
Mrs. Lambert nodded and beckoned Sam to follow her. She accompanied her up the servants’ stairs to the family wing and left to order tea and biscuits for them.
Sam lingered in front of Evie’s door in indecision. Her hand hovered in the air for several moments, afraid to knock. What if Evie was angry with her? What if she didn’t want to see her? She took a fortifying breath. In that case, she would have to hear it from her friend. Sam gathered her courage and knocked on the door.
She heard a faint answer to come in, entered the room, and stood in the doorway, uncertain if she’d be welcome.
Evie sat on the windowsill reading a book. She hadn’t looked Sam’s way as she heard her enter. She just flipped the page and continued reading. Sam looked around the room. Several trunks stood by the bed, filled with clothing. So it was true then; she was being taken to the Somerset estate after all.
“Evie,” Sam said quietly and made an uncertain step forward.
Evie lifted her head, and a smile appeared on her face as she saw Sam. “Oh, it’s you.” She stood, walked toward Sam, and gave her a hug. Sam expelled a breath of relief. She hugged her friend back, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.
Evie pulled away and looked at Sam’s face. “Oh, my God, are you crying? Is something wrong?” She looked at her with a frown of concern etching her face. “Come, sit.”
Evie led Sam by the hand to the settee in the middle of the room. Sam felt silly for crying like that in front of her friend, but of all the greetings she’d expected—and thought she deserved—a smile and a hug were not on the list. She should have known better though, it was Evie.
“I’m sorry.” Sam wiped at her tears. “I am turning into a watering pot.”
Evie handed her a handkerchief.
“I thought you were angry with me.” Sam wiped her face and blew her nose into a handkerchief.
“Oh.” Evie gave a musical laugh. “Because of Ashbury?”
Sam nodded, biting on her lip. “We didn’t get to speak after the ball and you seemed… shocked.”
“I was! Well, I am. But not because of what you think. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you… what?”
“That you care for him.”
“Oh.” Sam chewed on her lip. “I didn’t know. I mean, I didn’t know if it was a slight infatuation that would pass or if it was something more. Besides, you needed to marry fast to get out from under your guardian’s wings. And I didn’t want to ruin this by speaking up about something I wasn’t certain of. You understand, don’t you?”
