“A better wage for what?”
Hattie’s older brother, Daniel, strolled in. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been in a wind. His collar was open at the throat and Hattie could smell the drink on him from a distance of several feet.
“I have a new position,” Hattie said brightly. “As a correspondent.”
Daniel frowned as he went to the sideboard. “A what?”
“Someone who corresponds in writing.”
“Thank you, Hat, I know what a correspondent is. What I mean is, why you thinkyouare one.” He reached for a crystal decanter and pulled the stopper free.
“Because I’ve been hired by the new viscount to do precisely that.”
This news caused Daniel to pause momentarily before he poured brandy into a glass. “The new viscount... Do you mean Abbott? The Spaniard?”
“He’s Santiavan, but yes. Him.” She was beaming, she realized. She really had to learn to contain that. It wouldn’t do to walk around grinning like a fool because she would be looking at a very handsome man several times a week.
Daniel put down the glass without taking a sip. He turned a dark look to his father. “What, and now everyone will think my sister must seek employment like a beggar?”
“A beggar!” Hattie exclaimed.
Daniel pointed at their father. “This is your doing,” he said accusingly. “I told you, buy the lass a frock now and then.”
“Mydoing!” her father sputtered. “It’s allherdoing! It’s not my fault she can’t find anyone to marry her! I shouldn’t be expected to provide for her all my life.”
“That is exactly what you should expect when you bear children,” Daniel shot back.
“All right,” Hattie said, throwing up her hands between them before her father and Daniel started an argument in earnest. “Please, I—”
She was interrupted by Peter and Perry bursting through the door, loudly and recklessly, the way they entered every day of their lives. They were dressed in plain shirts and trousers. Peter had a quiver on his back and a bow and arrow in his hands, and Perry appeared to be running from him—he leaped over the back of the divan and landed with a crash on the other side of it.
“What are you doing in here with that?” Hattie’s mother shouted. “You frightened Mr. White and—Perry! Have a care!” she screeched when the white cat leaped from the back of the settee and nearly collided with the miniature tea service Perry knocked over. The sound of breaking china and a howling cat startled everyone. Perry peered down at the mess, making no move to pick up the pieces. All the cats scattered, darting out the open door.
“Look what you’ve done!” their mother cried, and hauled herself up off the chaise, stalking to the spot of the crime to inspect the carnage. Which made Peter laugh. Which in turn made Perry lunge at him. Daniel tried to step between the twins to put a stop to their brawling but ended up receiving a fist that Peter had clearly intended for Perry. Which prompted Daniel to toss Peter to the floor while Perry shouted his encouragement.
“All right,” Hattie sighed, and slipped out of the melee. She stepped over tea services and dodged boxes and cats and dress forms and clocks on the way upstairs to her room.
Once safely inside, she quietly closed the door and turned the lock. And then opened it again, shooed one of the cats out, then closed and locked it again.
She lived in a bloody madhouse. Her room was her sanctuary, but it was increasingly impossible to exist here. She couldn’t wait to start her work, to save her money and escape this house of horrors.
She slipped out of the gown she’d splurged on for this very interview. She’d bought it at a dress shop in Battersea, where gowns were more affordable than the places Flora liked to shop. Much to Hattie’s dismay, she noticed that the cheap fabric gave off a peculiar smell. She donned a simple gray-and-white gown that had once been her mother’s, refashioned to fit her and the current trends. Oh, how she longed for new dresses.Properdresses, like Flora and Queenie wore.
She went to the washstand to clean up. She was due at Flora’s soon—she was to accompany her to her cousin’s house. Moses Raney was significantly older than Flora, was unmarried or widowed—Hattie had never been very clear—and he loved to host soirees and musicales. His salon was always full, and Flora liked to go at least twice a week. As it was across town, Hattie was engaged to accompany her.
She couldn’t wait to tell Flora about her new occupation. She would simply expire with excitement for Hattie.
FLORADIDN’TEXPIRE, but she screamed so loud in her rooms that two servants came running. She shooed them away then pulled Hattie down onto her chaise longue. “This is perfect, you realize. Simplyperfect. Hattie...you will be the one to capture his attention!”
“I won’t!” Hattie laughed.
“No, you won’t, but, Hattie...you can tell useverythingabout him!”
Hattie didn’t know who she meant byus, but she had given her word everything would remain confidential. “I promised—”
“It won’t be difficult to determine who he fancies, will it?” Flora suddenly surged to her feet. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he confides in you. You’re really the perfect sort for confiding secrets, you know. Always present, but a bit like a fly on the wall, aren’t you? You’ll know before anyone else who he fancies!”
Hattie realized her mistake at having told Flora and desperately tried to send the horse back to the stable. “No, that’s... He wouldn’t. Why would he ever confide in me?”
