Chapter Five
Five
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Sadie woke with the sun, though its rays were blocked by thick drapes over the window.
Climbing out of the massive—and ridiculously soft—bed, she slipped on the silk dressing gown Maisie had given her the night before along with the lace-edged nightgown she was wearing.
Sadie padded over to the window and pulled open the aubergine drapes, letting the dawn light wash over the bedroom.
She studied the space, confirming that it was exactly as luxurious as she had thought the night before.
The plush rug under her feet was softer than her mattress back home.
She wandered over to the fireplace. Silver-gray river stones brought a touch of the wild into the otherwise sophisticated space, the unevenly sized stones slightly too real to be perfect like everything else.
There was no wood laid in the hearth. Instead, a large, flat stone engraved with a glyph for heat sat in the center of the space.
Sadie didn’t even want to contemplate how expensive it would be to replace the heat-glyphs in every fireplace in the manor regularly.
A small one in the kitchen for the kettle was reasonable, but even for a baron, using glyph-stones instead of firewood seemed extreme.
Though the night had brought with it a slight chill, activating the stone wasn’t necessary. Still, Sadie bent toward it, curious to see how strong the glyph was.
The bedroom door swung open, and Sadie spun and straightened with a shriek, clutching at her dressing gown.
“I’m sorry, miss,” Maisie said with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t realize you were already up.”
She pushed the door open the rest of the way and came in.
She had a dress draped over her arm. Since Lady Marstede had already entrusted her maid with their secret, Sadie admitted the truth.
“I have to wake with the sun if I don’t want to be late to work, and I’m not used to servants coming and going. ”
“Once your friend arrives, your rooms will be her domain, and no other servant will enter without her permission. Since she won’t get here until later, however, her ladyship thought you might appreciate a little help this morning.”
“Thank you. I was just wondering what I was supposed to do now that I’m awake.”
“We’ll get you dressed, then you can either take a tray up here or go to the breakfast room.”
Getting dressed as not-quite-a-lady was an experience.
Sadie felt like a doll, moved this way and that as Maisie draped garments over her, tightened her corset, and tied all her tapes.
Then she tackled Sadie’s hair, transforming her usual twist of hair pinned at her nape into something that didn’t feel too fussy, yet wasn’t so simple either.
Sadie stared at her reflection in the mirror over the vanity and thought she at least looked the part of a lady with twin braids snaking over her head like a crown before joining the others that twisted into an elegant knot at her nape.
Then again, perhaps it wasn’t the hair that turned her from Sadie Winsel into Miss Sadie Pentry.
The dress Lady Marstede had loaned her was like nothing she had worn before.
The pale pink cotton was so thin as to be sheer in between the prints of blue flowers, making the loan of pristine petticoats to wear under it both appreciated and embarrassing. She feared any wrong move she made might shred the fabric, but she also loved it.
“Would you like a tray here, or shall I show you to the breakfast room, miss?”
Sadie turned away from the mirror. “Will the baron be in the breakfast room?”
“Yes, miss.”
Sadie grinned and gestured toward the door. “Then, by all means, show me the way.”
She was ready to face both the baron and the true ladies this morning.
Maisie took her to the correct door, and Sadie marched into the room with her head high. Too bad her show of confidence was mostly wasted. There were only three people at the table: the baron, the dowager, and a raven-haired lady about the same age as Sadie.
Lord Marstede was the first to notice her. He studied Sadie long enough that she doubted his mother’s assertions that he wouldn’t notice if she borrowed a few gowns. He raised a brow. “I don’t believe I actually caught your name last night, Miss —?”
“Sadie Pentry.” The name rolled off her tongue naturally after how long she had spent saying it to herself before falling asleep the night before.
“She is Lord Algimon’s niece, Nicholas,” the dowager added. “Which you would know if you hadn’t been a complete boor when she arrived. Now stop your interrogation and let her sit.”
The baron’s hazel eyes narrowed on his mother. “I didn’t realize asking for a name counted as an interrogation.”
Sadie sat, watching them in fascination. Despite the way they had argued in her limited time around them both, she’d have sworn they loved each other. And not just the “they’re family, I have to love them” sort of emotion.
“It’s all about tone, Nicholas. I raised you to be a gentleman, so try to remember your lessons. You should be making introductions by now.”
“And how was I to make introductions when I didn’t even know her name?”
The baron said exactly what he was thinking, politeness be damned. It was wonderful. Sadie didn’t have to worry about responding to something she’d only heard with her power, nor did she feel the need to keep a tight rein on her own replies.
“Introductions, Nicky.”
The baron huffed and turned back to Sadie. “I believe you know my mother, Lady Madeleine Huxley, Dowager Baroness of Marstede.”
“Indeed.” Sadie considered her words for a moment and decided to test the truth of the dowager’s commitment to having her serve as a foil for the proper ladies.
Best to learn now if she’d be tossed out on her ear.
Besides, she had accepted the invitation not for the luxury of living in a manor for a month, but for the freedom of not having to bite her tongue.
“Lady Marstede and I had a lovely conversation yesterday after your tantrum.”
“My tantrum?” The words spilled out in unison with his thoughts. “That wasn’t a tantrum, Miss Pentry. That was an objection to the breaking of an agreement for which I continue to uphold my end.”
“But have you actually checked if the agreement is, in fact, broken yet?”
“No. Nor will I, for I am still committed to doing my part, though the bargain’s spirit has been compromised, no matter the technicalities.” He looked over at his mother. “I can only hope all parties still remain committed to the rest of the bargain.”
Sadie wondered what the baroness had agreed to, that Lord Marstede would put up with a houseful of guests for the entire month.
The dowager picked up a scone and placed it on her plate. “Two years,” she said calmly, “not a day more nor less. Now finish the introductions, Nicky. Miss Pentry would like to eat, and she is waiting until you are done.”
Actually, Sadie had been waiting to see if she’d betray her lack of status by helping herself. There were no servants standing in the breakfast room, yet she had the fear one would pop up the instant she reached for the food. Seeing Lady Marstede serve herself was a relief.
Except now she had to wait until the introductions were finished.
Lord Marstede looked over at the raven-haired beauty, who had ignored the entire conversation until that point, yet now lifted her head in clear acknowledgement. “Lady Helen, allow me to introduce to you Miss Sadie Pentry. Miss Pentry, this is Lady Helen Thistlaine of Renvale.”
Sadie recognized the name. Renvale was close enough to Lamsdel that the Thistlaine family often bought goods from the shop. Not in person, though, luckily.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Pentry,” Lady Helen greeted her.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Sadie responded, but Lady Helen had already looked away, training her gaze on her plate once more. Sadie reached for a scone and looked between the baron and his mother. “Is everyone else breakfasting in their rooms?”
“Most likely they are still abed,” the baron answered, a hint of something between resignation and disgust coloring his voice.
“But we shall come together once everyone is awake and has broken their fast,” Lady Marstede added in bright tones that made him sound even more dour in comparison. “I look forward to sharing my plans for the month with everyone.”
For once, the baron did not say the thoughts at the forefront of his mind. A pity, for Sadie would have loved to see how the dowager and Lady Helen reacted to such creative curses.
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Nicholas lingered over his tea and toast, watching Miss Pentry as surreptitiously as he could. He had questions, questions he knew better than to ask in front of his mother, but ones that would be answered before the day was done.
He might have hidden from the world in his study last night, but that morning Nicholas had woken ready to face whatever life—or his mother—threw at him.
A brief interrogation of his butler had come first. Though Timmons was loyal to the dowager, the butler had to know something was meant to be a secret before he’d keep it from Nicholas.
But Timmons had known nothing about Miss Pentry and therefore hadn’t known to hide that no sixth carriage had arrived yestereve.
Lady Helen finished her breakfast and departed without saying more than a dozen words all told.
She was exactly the sort of woman he wanted for a wife—when the time came—and Nicholas had tried most of yesterday to imagine her in the role.
Yet he couldn’t do it. In his imagination, she was nothing more than another piece of furniture in his home: a tasteful decoration that was occasionally useful.
Which was what he wanted, wasn’t it? So why did the mental image feel so wrong?
Across from Nicholas, Miss Pentry choked on her tea and coughed.
“Are you alright, dear?” his mother asked.
“Yes. Just … swallowed … wrong,” Miss Pentry said between coughs. All the while her gaze kept darting to Nicholas, and he suddenly had the suspicion the problem wasn’t that she was choking on tea, but on laughter. Except nothing had happened to prompt any laughter.
Nicholas’s mother waited another moment, until Miss Pentry’s coughs died down, then rose herself. “I have tasks to see to in order to ensure this month goes smoothly. I shall see you both in the lavender sitting room at noon with everyone else.”
Nicholas watched her go, a little surprised at how easily he ended up alone with Miss Pentry. Then common sense reasserted itself, and he realized his mother would be arranging for him to spend time alone with all the ladies over the coming month. Miss Pentry was simply the first.
Still, this was one conversation he wanted to have.
Nicholas drank the final remaining sip of his now-cold tea and waited for her to look his direction.
She did so almost the moment the door swung shut behind his mother.
For a second, he feared she was going to stammer something about propriety and scurry away, but her look wasn’t nervous, nor calculating. It was challenging.
She said nothing, merely raising a brow as she bit into a slice of peach.
Nicholas did not stare at her lips. She would not distract him that way. A flash of surprise, quickly hidden, proved she had wanted to provoke a reaction. Had expected to, even.
Locking his eyes on hers, Nicholas summoned the bored tones he so often employed when visiting the city. “Miss Pentry, would you care to explain how you arrived at Marstede?”
She swallowed. Licked her lips.
He forced his attention away from her mouth once more.
“The usual way.”
“Indeed?” He rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “I rather thought the usual way involved a carriage, trunks, and a maid.”
“Your point being?”
“You, Miss Pentry, arrived with none of those things.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
She shrugged. “What other explanation could there be for my arrival, then?”
“The truth. Which you will share now, if you please.”
She laughed. “I don’t think I do.”
“What?”
“You said if I please. It pleases me far more not to tell you anything.”
“Miss Pentry—”
She leaned forward. “Yes, Lord Marstede?”
Was she trying to distract him on purpose? The dress she wore had a higher neckline than an evening gown, but with her angled like that … Dammit, he was not going to let a glimpse of décolletage divert him. No matter how enticing the view was.
“You are in my house,” he said firmly, his eyes trained on the dark brown of hers. “Whether it pleases you or not, I deserve to know how you came to be here.”
Leaning back, she picked up another slice of peach. “Nonsense. I am a guest of your mother’s. She is the only one with a right to my secrets under the circumstances. Not that I am keeping any from her.”
A shadow passed over her expression for the barest fraction of a moment, and Nicholas was suddenly certain she did have a secret, something that had nothing to do with why she was in his home or how she had come to be in Marstede. Something deeper. Darker.
He should have thrown her out of the manor. But instinct told him that whatever her secret was, she was no threat. The darkness haunted her; it wasn’t her weapon.
“I will figure it out,” Nicholas promised, letting her see that he meant more than just the mystery of how she had come to Marstede.
Her hand rose, clutching at the pendant she wore at her throat. He could see the glyph carved on it, a simple protection that could do little more than ward off a paper cut. It certainly wouldn’t affect him. Or whatever put that shadow in her eyes.
“Why does it matter so much to you?” she demanded. The challenge in her voice now was bluster, desperation underlying it. “I’ll be gone in a month.”
A smidgen of regret wormed its way through Nicholas. He didn’t want to make her genuinely uncomfortable or afraid for her own safety. He’d expected her to push back, not cower. Not that she was exactly cowering, but still.
Her acceptance that she’d be gone once the month was up confused him as well. “Why come at all, then? If you have no intention of winning a place for yourself here, why not stay at home?”
Miss Pentry snorted, and the shadows were gone as if they’d never existed. “Your mother is a very hard woman to say no to.”
Nicholas allowed a huff of laughter to escape. “Finally, something we can agree on.”