“Mr. Hammonds asked me in good faith. And they will need to be done. How could I refuse?”
“Oh, easily,” said Miss Sedgewick. “As a lady’s maid you are under no obligation to help with the general housework.”
“My mother would tell me that it is better to be busy than idle, and that if I can help that I should. Besides, it would grow very dull doing nothing but waiting on the Duchess. She doesn’t seem to require my services often.”
“Just keep in mind that service to her is your first duty. Since you are not used to service, do not be afraid to ask questions. Be sure, as well, to let me or Mr. Hammonds know if your requested duties are in conflict. We will be glad to adjust anything else.”
“Thank you. I will own that it feels very strange taking over the duties of a dead woman.”
“How could it not?” Mrs. Sedgewick tweaked a napkin that did not really need tweaking. “But life or death, or in between, our duties are what keep the castle in good order.”
Chapter 2
The moon rose over Gwyndonmere Lake. Its light made the classic trail of light across the water’s surface. Night insects chirped and squeaked, taking advantage of the early spring evening to do a little courting.
The man traced a finger down the maid’s cheek, for he was doing a little courting of his own. “What a shame that a pretty thing like you should be hidden up here in the mountains. You should be in the town, what do the locals call it? Auld Reekie. No, you should not be in that den of smoke and miasma. You should be in London, in the finest little apartment.”
The maid, careless of her starched white apron and lace edged cap, leaned into him. “Coo, I likes the way you talk.”
The man inwardly winced at the coarse, up-country accent and expression. But he gentled his voice as he undid the pretty little cap.
“Don’t muss me,” the maid said, “I’m on duty tonight. Mr. Hammonds doesn’t like us to be mussed, even if we are below stairs.”
“Don’t you worry about old Hammonds. I’ll make it all right with him. I just want to see your pretty hair.” The man stole the pins out of the knot of hair at the nape of her neck, then ran his fingers through it. “Doesn’t that feel good? Just let the night breeze run through those locks.”
The maid shivered and leaned a little closer. The man focused his attention on the slender body that smelled of soap, herbs, and baking cinnamon, and that trembled with excitement. He loved this part, the beginning of the game. Get her excited and interested, promise her pretty things. “I’d love to take you away from all this.” He stroked her side, and felt her shiver like a racehorse that was ready for a fast sprint. “Just another kiss or two, then I’ll help you do up your hair. No one will know.”
She obediently turned her face up to his, her body tight against him. It would have been more fun if she wasn’t wearing one of those hideous whale-bone corsets, but he could still feel her soft breasts and the shape of her hips against his side. He kissed her, pulling her in closer. Her mouth tasted like strawberries. He longed to pull up her skirts, but she wasn’t ready yet. The game was just beginning.
With a soft groan, he lifted his mouth from hers, looking out across the lake to let himself calm down.
“I’ll be late!” she gasped. “Oh, dear, my hair. I don’t have a mirror, and where are my pins?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be your mirror, and I have your pins.” He took a wooden comb out of his pocket and helped her put her hair back up. “There you are, proper and prim, with plenty of time to spare.”
He watched with satisfaction as she picked up her skirts and ran back to the castle, white petticoats flashing from beneath the dark fabric of her uniform. Soon she would be ready for the next step. He did so love the next step.
But he must be careful. Ordinarily, they would have been in London by now. In London, there was plenty of sport to be had. Here, where the castle and the villagers were as close as over-done pease porridge, he would have to be more discreet. But there were still those as would not be missed. Yes, there certainly were.
Chapter 3
Inspector Daniel Ravensgard tapped his stubby pencil on the worn tavern table. The man seated across from him, known only as Mr. Smith, was probably a Bow Street Runner, but he had never shared that information with the Inspector.
“I tracked him to the docks and got lucky with some information from a sailor,” he was saying. “But that was as far as I got. He was slick. The girls wuz all orphings, an’ their bodies were found in the rookeries, where you might expect prostitutes, thieves, and the like. But this here last ‘un had a brother, who’d talked to her just the night before.”
“And always during the Season?”
“Yes, indeed. Never when Parliament wasn’t in session. Now, I don’t think it was some gentleman having a bit of fun. Bit above my touch, if that’s the case. The girls were all robbed, ever’ one, but the blackguard had his way with them, as well.”
“Well, that is interesting. But why do you think it had anything to do with Edinburgh?”
“You see, that’s the curious thing. All the houses where the girls were took was on a particular street, an’ they only happened when a certain gentlemen was in residence.”
“But you do not think it was the gentleman?”
“I do not. Each and every one seemed to happen when there was a heavy session in Parliament. The gentleman in question was always in his seat during the event. I’ve written it all up for you here in this notebook.”
Inspector Ravensgard took the proffered ragged little book. “I’ll keep an eye out, but with no more information than this, I cannot see how you can expect to catch the villain, were there even twenty brothers in pursuit.”
