Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“How much did you lose today?” Edward inquired quietly.
No one else had ventured to the gardens at this late hour. Likely, most of the other houseguests had already fallen into bed with bellies full of wine. But discretion was wise. I had no desire for word of my true intentions to reach the baron.
“Enough to make Barnett think I’m an easy mark.”
A breeze ruffled the boughs of the trees overhead as clouds passed before the moon, blanketing us in shadow. I turned my attention toward the darkened shrubbery, an odd restlessness settling over me. I was closer than ever to obtaining what I wanted, and yet, I felt no satisfaction. There was only a hollow sense of disgust for it all—the baron, the greed, the vices. Was I the only man in that room who had taken note of the true fear in the maid’s voice when she had apologized to Barnett for taking too long to clean the threadbare carpets?
I told myself it didn’t signify, that she didn’t signify. And yet it rang hollow.
“Was he using the marked cards?” Edward asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked away from the ruined gardens, trying to keep my mind settled upon the task at hand. “Yes. And I saw where he places them when we are finished for the day. There is a hidden drawer in the table. I lingered in the hallway watching him, and he was so busy congratulating himself over his winnings that he didn’t notice my presence. We will have to slip in once the house is abed and switch them for tomorrow.”
We would linger here in the gardens until it was safe to accomplish the substitution. Given the dearth of domestics, we likely wouldn’t have long to wait.
Edward nodded. “How will you play the day?”
Tomorrow was another day, another opportunity to seize what I wanted. The groundwork had already been laid, and I was confident of our success.
“Off and on. I will let my luck run out a bit, then pick up again so he is not completely suspicious. Two of the crowd have already run out of their funds.” I snorted derisively. “Young pups who have no business gambling. I let Barnett pick them off to get him overconfident. There are two more who will be gone before the afternoon is over. That will leave four of us for the evening.”
“Everything is falling into place.” Edward’s voice was pleased.
And well it should have been. My victory was his victory. We were nearer to obtaining our objective than ever. Triumph was at last within reach. Yet oddly, I didn’t share his sense of satisfaction.
“You’re quiet,” he observed. “Is aught amiss? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
I stared into the shadows, contemplating the whirlwind of the day, and sighed heavily. The girl’s face rose in my mind.
“Nothing is amiss,” I reassured him.
We passed a few more minutes in pleasant conversation, and I was grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to dwell on a servant girl. She was Barnett’s concern, not mine.
MADELEINE
I rose before dawn in the cramped garret room I shared with Lydia. Even beneath a thick layer of old counterpanes, my feet were so cold that I could scarcely feel my toes. Shivering, I emerged from my small, uncomfortable bed and made my way through the darkness to perform some hasty morning ablutions. Candles were a luxury that couldn’t presently be spared for those of us who worked belowstairs. They were reserved for the baron’s guests. Sun seeped through the rafters in odd gaps, enabling me a small amount of light.
Lydia was little more than an indistinct lump across the room in her own small bed. The sound of my friend’s rhythmic breathing suggested she was yet asleep. I would wake her soon, but I was reluctant to intrude on the pleasant escape of slumber, so oft our only release from the drudgery of our days. Although, for me, even my dreams were haunted.
I dressed and secured my hair with pins before hiding it beneath a mobcap. I had just finished when a faint rustle and yawn from Lydia’s bed told me she was awake.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked, her voice raspy with sleep and an edge of worry. “I didn’t mean to be a slugabed.”
“You’ve time aplenty yet,” I reassured her. “I thought to let you rest for an extra few minutes. The day is sure to be a long one.”
We all secretly dreaded the baron’s house parties. Our work increased threefold during the revels, as drunken lords indulged in gambling and demanded feasts to satiate their seemingly endless appetites, all whilst we went without. The sole source of consolation to me was that the baron’s attention was usually diverted to his guests rather than to me. I preferred hunger and exhaustion to my father’s wrath.