Page 27 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

She was moving towards the dowager countess with her hands outstretched, a welcoming smile on her lips. The flickering of the torches danced over her midnight-black hair, and for a moment it was as if she was emerging from the flames.

“Lord Wynter, Lady Wynter,” she exclaimed. “How happy I am to welcome you to our home.”

Her home.

“I hope your journey was not too tiring,” she continued, turning to the dowager countess. Her voice was pure music, the way she moved was like a dance. Here was a woman born to be a marchioness.

Lady Wynter’s eyebrows rose. “You make me sound like an invalid, Helena. The journey was only a handful of hours. And I had Miss Fox to keep me company.”

I stepped forward. Helena’s eyes turned to me, and she could not mask the flash of anger that crossed her face. But then she smiled.

“Oh, it’s you!”

For a second, I froze in panic.

“I recognize that lovely face even without the mask. So, Serena Fox is the mysterious guest from the ball. How fortunate we are to have you to stay, you’ve been the talk of the town these past two days,” Helena continued gaily. “Everyone will be extremely jealous that we have you all to ourselves!”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

She didn’t know me.

Her words settled. I had no idea that I had caused such a stir at the ball that people were still talking about me. I glanced over at Nicholas, but he stood there with that usual slightly bored look on his face.

“Thank you for extending the invitation to include me, Lady Scott-Holland. You have a beautiful home.” The words felt sharp on my tongue. I tried to ignore the image in my mind of my father standing here on the threshold, his arms held wide open, waiting to scoop me up.

“Thank you, we are rather fond of it,” Helena said lightly. “Now, let’s not stand out here in the cold. I’ll show you to your rooms so that you can refresh yourselves before dinner.”

She led us through the front door, into the wide entrance hall, and up the carved wooden staircase. I kept my eyes down. I needed to gather myself, to steel my mind, before I took it all in.

Still, as soon as my hand touched the banister, I felt memory singing through my fingers. The wood was smooth, worn by hundreds of hands over the years – and by me sliding down it, much to my governess’s dismay. She tried to get Father to tell me off, but more often than not he was waiting at the bottom to catch me.

“Here comes my little cub!” he would boom as I came soaring down the polished banister, howling like a wolf, and baring my teeth in a ferocious grin.

I was relieved when Helena led me to a wing of the house that we had rarely used. It had all been lavishly redecorated, and I barely recognized anything. It helped me to breathe a little easier.

“This will be your room, Miss Fox,” she said, opening one of the doors.

The room was beautiful, blush pink papered walls, and green coverlets on a large bed. There was a cast iron fireplace with an elaborate marble surround. A vase of pale pink calla lilies, elegant on long stems stood on the dressing table – presumably cut from the hothouse. I wondered if Kielty the gardener was still here to tend to them.

“It’s lovely,” I said. “Thank you.”

“I’ll have your bags sent up right away,” Helena said. “We’re meeting for drinks before dinner in half an hour, but don’t worry about being punctual. You’ve had a long journey.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was a gracious hostess; but I did know better. She was trying to delay any meeting between Stefan and me for as long as possible.

I smiled, showing all my teeth.

“Thank you, Lady-Scott Holland. You think of everything.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

A servant who I didn’t recognise brought my cases promptly to my room. There were a lot of them.

I knew from the notes that Nicholas had sent that he had bought clothes for me. I didn’t like the idea, but could hardly see a way around it. I couldn’t very well turn up with my usual wardrobe and try to pass myself off as an heiress. Still, I felt the loss of my own fortune – and the independence it offered – keenly. It was a matter of pride more than anything else.

Once the servant had left, I began opening the cases. It was a distraction, and I had always found admiring good clothes to be soothing. And these were good clothes.

I recognized the work of The House of Guillard, Madame’s fiercest rival. They had, in fact, tried to poach me several times in the last year.