Chapter 17 #2
At least she could count on not being stalked by bad guys, working for crooks, or having to rely—at least for the meantime—on her parents.
There was something to be said for being a woman of independent means.
The first thing she was going to do was find a stationery store and buy a card so she could write Lord Epworth a thank-you.
She might even doodle on the inside to truly show how deeply she’d been moved by his generosity.
She looked around her casually, on the pretext of checking out the scenery, and scoped out the people around her for anyone who looked suspicious.
Just for something to do and because it made her feel sleuth-like.
She could hardly claim to have Derrick-level skills, but she didn’t see anyone who looked like they shouldn’t have been on a train at that time of the morning.
No thugs, no textile thieves, no good-looking Scots in disguise.
She settled back against her seat and supposed she had nothing to do but get on with her grand plans.
She had the money to stay in England for the summer and live a life of leisure, though she imagined she would be staying on the cheap as often as possible.
No sense in not hoarding what Lord Epworth had given her.
But sketchbooks were reasonable and the scenery was free, so perhaps she would end up going home with a little something in her pocket.
By the time she’d taken a taxi up the way from the station in Windermere to her hotel in Ambleside, a hotel that wasn’t all that little and definitely wouldn’t be found on any budget lodging site, she was feeling fabulous.
She had her life under her control in a way she had only imagined it might someday be as she’d first gotten off that train in Newcastle.
She was going to step forward boldly, seizing the future by the lapels and demanding that it give her everything she asked for.
Which was obviously why she spent half an hour in her room, pacing and wondering what in the hell she was doing.
Being on her own was perhaps going to be slightly more unnerving than she’d suspected it would be.
She went into the bathroom, repaired her face with things Emily had thoughtfully provided her from a counter that Samantha never would have in her wildest dreams approached for even a sample, brushed and rebraided her hair, then took her good sense in hand.
It was still early. She could go for a walk, soak up some local sights and smells, then go back to her room and make a serious list. But not before she’d had lunch and forced herself to stay outside for at least a couple of hours.
She realized later that it hadn’t been as hard as she’d feared.
The shops were quaint, the weather good, and the surroundings extremely lovely.
And the longer she walked, the more she decided that she was definitely better off without any overseas entanglements.
She would spend the summer polishing up her artistic skills—and praying she had some—then she would go back home and put her foot down with her parents.
Maybe by then she would have figured out a way to survive on something besides the charity and generosity of an old man who hadn’t been required to do anything for her.
The world was full of very good people.
It was also full of things that made her nervous.
She discovered that as she returned to her hotel after a lovely meal.
She started to put her card key into her door only to find there was no need.
It swung in without help. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and it was only good breeding—well, that and a lack of breath—that kept her from screaming her head off.
Damn. She shouldn’t have read all those mysteries on Derrick’s computer. She definitely shouldn’t have downloaded that creepy episode from The Twilight Zone simply as an act of rebellion against her parents who had insisted she limit herself to period pieces.
She reached inside and flicked on the light. She looked inside the room, then let out her breath slowly. No one was hiding behind the door. No one was sitting on her bed, waiting for her. No one was hiding behind the curtains. Her room looked as it should have.
Maybe she’d forgotten to lock the door.
She told herself she was imagining things. She continued to tell herself she was imagining things as she checked the bathroom, the wardrobe, under the bed, and out on the little balcony. There wasn’t anyone in the room.
But there was someone standing across the street.
He wasn’t looking up at her, but just the way he was standing was so utterly sinister, she could hardly stand the sight.
She jumped back, drew the curtain, then sat down on the bed and reminded herself that there was no need to have a nervous breakdown.
She had nothing anyone would want. The lace was back where it belonged.
Surely not even retribution was worth following her all the way to Ambleside.
She unpacked her suitcase, checking every piece of clothing, looking in every nook and cranny for a stowaway of some kind.
There was nothing she hadn’t expected except a pair of pearl earrings and a lovely necklace to match, but since there was a note from Emily attached, she didn’t think those were thug-worthy.
She replaced everything with shaking hands.
She paused, then looked at her bag. She hadn’t emptied it, but there was nothing else inside it that shouldn’t have been there. She felt around inside it just to make sure. No, it was just full of her usual stuff. She sat on the edge of the bed and suppressed the urge to wring her hands.
She was half tempted to open the balcony door and bellow for the guy across the street to move on to greener pastures, but something about letting sleeping dogs lie echoed in the back of her mind.
She considered, then considered a bit longer.
She didn’t want to call the concierge because it was entirely possible that she had forgotten to pull her door to.
There was nothing missing in her room, so there wouldn’t be anything for the police to find worth their time to investigate.
Lots of people stood on streets. Maybe the guy across the street was waiting for his wife to come pick him up so they could go out to a late lunch.
She looked around the room, then found a chair and propped it up under the doorknob. Then she double bolted the door with the security lock. She wished she’d thought to ask Derrick for his phone number, but what in the world could he have done? He was probably all the way back to London already.
Actually, for all she knew, he’d decided he needed a vacation and flown to Paris.
She was on her own.
Which she supposed wouldn’t be so bad during the daytime. Thugs didn’t break into rooms during the daytime, not while people were there. For all she knew, it had been the maids—
She blinked, then she smiled. It had obviously been the maids.
Why else would someone have been able to get into her room?
They had a master key and had no doubt come in to freshen things up.
Nothing else made sense. She didn’t have anything on her that anyone would want, with the exception of the clothes Emily—or, Derrick, rather—had bought her.
She let out her breath slowly and didn’t mind that it wasn’t all that steady. She was safe. She had jumped to conclusions and freaked herself out. She was perfectly safe and nothing was going to happen to her.
Though she was going to figure out first thing in the morning where to go get a phone. Just in case.
She took a deep breath, then looked around the room for something to use for a still life while she had plenty of daylight.