Page 45 of A Remarkable Rogue

Inside, though, Sydney couldn’t find the energy to start her day or even to fall into bed to try for sleep. There was no point. Each time she tried to close her eyes, she saw Nate’s face and the guilt he carried.

She’d removed the red satin costume as soon as she’d reached home, then bathed away the gold dust on her skin, replaced the gown with plain pastel muslin, and pulled her dark hair into a simple knot at her nape. She’d done everything she could to wipe away the empty fantasy of the evening and make herself as ordinary as possible—the complete antithesis of Lady Flame. Yet a part of her would always think of Nate as her Lord Panther and remember him dancing with her as if he thought she were the most beautiful woman in the world, coming to her rescue like a knight in shining armor, and kissing her as if he needed her as much as he needed air to breathe.

She couldn’t slip away from those memories as easily as slipping out of a dress.

Now she sat in front of the fire and waited for a man who would never appear at her doorstep.

Her shoulders slumped. What a fool she was to cling to the hope that Nate would change his mind and seek her out! But she couldn’t help herself. Yet as each hour slipped past, she realized he wasn’t coming. And truly, why would he? He knew the place in St Giles where the gunpowder would be delivered, which meant he would be there to arrest the men who came to collect it. His mission would end, and he’d have no more need of her.

He’d blown into her life with the intensity of a summer storm but one that would prove heartbreakingly fleeting. When he was gone, just like rainwater soaking into the earth, no proof would exist that he’d ever been there at all.

But wasn’t that what she wanted—a man who could satisfy her needs but not steal her independence?

What herheartwanted, however…

Well, that could never matter. To surrender her heart meant surrendering control, and she would never surrender control of her life again. Not to any man.

Not even to Nate.

A soft scratch at the door interrupted her thoughts. She looked up as Mrs. Hodges slipped quietly into the room with a small tray in her hands and the morningTimestucked beneath her arm. The graying housekeeper had always been more attentive to Sydney than her own maid—for that matter, than her own mother. The woman usually greeted her in the drawing room where Sydney preferred to take breakfast. But this morning, Mrs. Hodges had somehow intuited that Sydney wasn’t feeling up to breakfasting downstairs, just as she had known that Sydney was wide awake at dawn when she usually slept past ten.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hodges.” Sydney’s tired voice was drained from more than a simple lack of sleep.

“I had a feeling you might be up early this morning, my lady,” the housekeeper explained as she set the food on the little table beside Sydney’s chair. “So I brought up a tray in case you were peckish.”

Sydney smiled faintly, more grateful than she would admit at the woman’s kind lies. It was obvious from the still-made bed that she hadn’t been to sleep at all let alone gotten up early. Likewise, Cook had piled enough food on the tray to feed a small army, as evidenced by the pot of chocolate, thick slices of warm toast, and fresh marmalade. Comfort food, all of it, right down to the small bowl of strawberries and cream—her favorite.

Her eyes stung at the kindness, and she hoarsely whispered, “Thank you.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Instead of leaving, though, Mrs. Hodges bent in front of the fireplace and set to stoking the banked coals even though starting the morning fire was not her responsibility. “You know, my lady, Danby and I realized last night that you hadn’t been to the theatre lately. We thought you might want to know that Shakespeare is playing at the Drury Lane.Measure for Measure.We know it’s one of your favorites.”

“Indeed.” She blinked away the blurriness in her eyes at her servants’ concern. “Then perhaps I shall attend tonight.”

Mrs. Hodges paused while poking aimlessly at the coals. “We’ve also noticed, ma’am, that recently you haven’t done most of what you normally do. The theatre being just one.”

A lump formed in Sydney’s throat. What the housekeeper really wanted to know, without daring to ask, was if she was all right. The servants were worried about her, apparently, and Mrs. Hodges had been the one sent to inquire, using the theatre as a delicate excuse to tell her that everyone had noticed she wasn’t behaving like herself.

“You and Danby are correct,” Sydney admitted. “I have not been…enjoying the theatre of late as I normally do.” She watched as the housekeeper rose to her feet and wiped her hands across her apron. “But I have a suspicion that I’ll be a regular theatregoer again soon.”

“Glad to hear it.” Mrs. Hodges poured a cup of hot chocolate and frowned as she handed it to Sydney. “Although, if I might say so, without overstepping…” She took a deep breath and hurried on, heedless if she were truly overstepping or not. “I’ve been employed here now for two years, ever since Lord Rowland died.”

“Yes.” Sydney had replaced all of Rowland’s servants immediately upon his death. She didn’t want anyone around who had proven more loyal to her late husband than to her. “And I would be lost without you.”

Mrs. Hodges’s cheeks pinked. “You are kind to say so, ma’am.” Without asking, she handed Sydney a napkin from the tray and a piece of toast, as if she were comforting a small child. “Me, Danby, and the others—we’re grateful to work here. Very grateful.” She paused. “We just worry sometimes. That is…we would be lost without you, too, ma’am.”

Sydney stared down into her hot chocolate through tear-blurred eyes, afraid she might cry. “No need to worry about me. In fact, I’m beginning to feel like my old self already.”

To prove it, she forced a smile, although she was certain it looked strained.

Mrs. Hodges relaxed her shoulders, visibly relieved that their small household would be back to normal again soon. “Shall I call for your maid?”

“No, let her sleep.” After all, there was no reason to hurry with her morning routine. Not today.

“Very well.” Mrs. Hodges retreated toward the door. “Enjoy your breakfast, my lady.”

Enjoy your breakfast. Enjoy the theatre. Enjoy your life… How on earth was she supposed to do that when she had no idea any longer how to actually live?

“Mrs. Hodges?” Sydney asked suddenly. Her feet slipped to the floor as she sat up.