Page 6 of A Lady's Past
The butler returned. “Lady Jane will see you, sir. If the lady wouldn’t mind waiting here?”
Jacques looked at her to answer for herself.
What an odd man.
“I shall be fine.” She sat on the divan, but as soon as they left the room, she stood and walked to the window. The snow had all melted, and everything looked fresh and clean. It had been a long time since she’d dared enter London. This was probably a mistake, but she needed help to avoid whoever was trying to kill her, and she wouldn’t find it hiding in the country.
An English prison was preferable to running for the rest of her life.
She ran her hand along the keys of the grand piano before sitting and playing a short piece she remembered from her youth. When Father had taught her about alchemy, he never could have suspected it would lead to so much trouble.
“You play well.” The woman in the doorway was tall and thin but not frail. She looked ready to battle any demons.
Diana stood. “I am out of practice, but I thank you.”
Jacques stood behind her. “I will take my leave of you, Miss St. Cloud. I wish you well. This is Lady Jane Everton. She will have you delivered wherever you wish if the Society is not for you.”
Diana knew nothing of Lady Jane, but her stomach roiled. She made a curtsy to Jacques. “Thank you for the transport, Mr. Laurent. You have been most kind.”
Bowing over her hand, he kissed her knuckles. “The pleasure was mine. Do take care of yourself.”
Warmth spread through her, as it did each time he touched her, looked at her, or simply laughed. Lord, she would have to get her wits about her.
Luckily, Jacques bowed to Lady Jane and took his leave. It was a good thing, but Diana missed his presence and the feeling of safety he provided, even if it was an illusion.
Jane cleared her throat. “Why don’t we go to my office and chat, Miss St. Cloud?
Following Jane down the hall behind the grand staircase, Diana noted the house was decorated in a masculine fashion. Very few frills beyond the flowers cut and arranged on nearly every table. This Everton’s must have a hothouse.
Inside the well-appointed office with its desk and wall of books, only the thick rug and curtains gave any softness to the space. Lady Jane herself wore dark gray and kept her hair pulled into a severe bun. She was formidable, yet seemed trustworthy, with her simple style and direct gaze.
Jane sat and offered Diana the chair across the desk. “Is whatever trouble you’re in dangerous?”
The prudent thing to do would be to lie. Yet how could she ask for sanctuary and not be as truthful as possible? “Yes.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“You would do well to put me on the curb, my lady. I am nothing but trouble for those who try to help.”
Jane’s severe face broke into a glorious smile. “If this is your entreaty to be asked to stay on at Everton’s, you should try something else.”
Standing, Diana wrung her hands. “I want to tell you the truth, but I fear I would be putting you in more danger.”
Raising one of her curved brows, Jane folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “Mr. Laurent told me you hadn’t heard of our Society before he mentioned it as a possible place of employment. Let me tell you a little about the Everton Domestic Society.”
Diana returned to her seat.
“We have between eight and twenty ladies employed here at any one time. Most are young, but by society’s standards beyond their marriageable years. Some have been through horrors and needed escape. Some are just trying to remove themselves from being a burden on their families’ finances. Because we house so many young women, and because some come from difficult situations, I employ six guards to discreetly watch the house and occasionally accompany a lady to places where she might be in danger. These men dress as footmen, but all have military backgrounds. It is my duty to see to the safety of the Everton ladies, and I take that very seriously.
“Now, why don’t you tell me what has happened to make you take to the road all alone, Miss St. Cloud?” Jane’s expression was mild, with no sense of accusation.
“My father was an inventor and a chemist. He was a very good one. He, my mother, and I were captured by a French spy and taken to France, where he was forced to work on the development of a better rocket. Whenever he would refuse, they would torture my mother or me to make him comply.”
“Dear Lord.”
“Yes, well… About a year ago, a guard went too far for my father, and in a fit of rage, the gentle man who raised me attacked and was killed. My mother was killed as well. They kept me alive because they suspected I could continue my father’s work.”
Jane raised both eyebrows and spoke in hushed tones. “And could you?”
