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“Ah, it’s not up tometo decide that.”
“Who then?”
“She must decide what to do now.”
“What if she doesn’t know?”
Bertram opened his eyes and regarded her seriously. “Perhaps she should conduct this exercise on herself and see what results.”
She blinked a few times and turned away. “I am afraid I am much better as instructor than pupil.”
“Would you like me to help you?”
She laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Perhaps another night.”
He nodded. “Very well. He stepped forward and picked up her hand from where it rested on the balustrade. He brought it to his lips, without breaking eye contact with her, he laid a gentle kiss upon it. He released it and straightened up. “I bid you a good night, Miss Strange.”
“Good night.” Her voice was shaky as she replied.
Bertram walked away, feeling much better than before.
* * *
Letty watched the Duke leave, her fingers tingling. She could still feel the warmth of his breath on them, his hot breath, the feel of soft lips pressing down on her hand. She held it up to her face, eyes closing.
What am I doing?
She walked slowly back to her quarters. She’d chosen a chamber on the nursery floor since she was given the choice. Of all the servants she’d gotten to know at the manor, she was closest to Mrs. Haversham. She was the only one who treated her the same as before, with a wary friendship.
Everyone else was distant and suspicious. Either that or indifferent. She hadn’t realized how much she valued the easy camaraderie of the kitchens until it was gone. She knew she had work to do if she wanted to gain back the trust she’d lost.
How do I go about doing that when I don’t know if I’ll have to betray them all one day?
She lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, Mrs. Haversham’s snores from the other side of the chamber disturbing her not at all. In the morning, George would bang the door open and shout excitedly to see them, the sun barely up. He might find them performing their ablutions in preparation for the day. Letty would have bread to bake for breakfast.
She had prepared the dough that night, and covered the loaves with pieces of cloth, ready to bake in the morning.
So mundane. Is this what I would be doing with my life if I had made different choices?
She thought about all the adventures she’d had, all the people she’d met and couldn’t bring herself to regret her choices. Even if she’d started out taking risks to somehow make up for her brother dying, it gave her a sense of purpose she would not have had otherwise.
I might have followed Etienne to his grave soon after, if I didn’t have this.
She looked out of the window, seeing the horizon lighten in the distance. Morning was breaking, and she’d barely slept a wink. She got up, crossed to the wash basin and washed her face and arms. She scooped her gown off the chair and slipped it on, brushing her long chestnut hair until it shone. She pulled it back, before fixing a cap onto her head and tucking her hair in.
“Good morning.”
She turned, smiled at Mrs. Haversham who was peering groggily at her from the bed. She didn’t usually get up as early as the rest of the household, seeing as she kept the same schedule as George. Being up with the sun was not one of her duties.
“Good morning, Mrs. Haversham. How did you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you. You’re up very early today.”
The curiosity was apparent in her stare and the fact that she was making an effort to be awake at all.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh?”
