Read Online A Murder at Rosamund's Gate by Susanna Calkins - Free Book Online

over the steps.
    For a dizzying moment, Lucy felt she was going to plunge backward down the hard steps and break her neck. Frantically, blindly, she grasped for Adam. The next instant, he had grabbed her arms and swung her safely back to the landing. She leaned into him, breathing hard.
    “Lucy!” Adam exclaimed, still gripping her tightly. “Are you all right?” Managing to nod, she stepped back, a little unsteady on her feet.
    “Easy, there!” he said. “You’re liable to plunge right back down the stairs. I’d like to avoid that.” Then he looked at her closely. “Hey! Your nose is bleeding.”
    “Oh, no!” Lucy wailed, putting her hand to her face. It felt strange, swollen. She started to move past him.
    He put his hand on her shoulder. “Wait a minute, Lucy.” Removing a handkerchief from the pocket of his new plush-lined cloth suit, Adam raised her chin, holding the linen lightly to her nose. “Here, tilt your head back. That should stanch the blood.”
    Lucy could smell the slight, pleasant aroma of tobacco, soap, and something else. Suddenly, she was acutely aware that they were alone in the hallway, standing not even a pace apart. No man, not even her brother, had ever held her face.
    Their eyes met. For the first time, she realized that his eyes were a deep blue-gray, not the brown that she always supposed. Now something flickered in them as he gazed down at her intently. He dropped his hand abruptly.
    She flushed, taking a step back, smoothing her dress. Reaching for the cloth with a trembling hand, she stammered, “Thank you, sir. I’m fine. I’ll wash out your kerchief.”
    Adam nodded, seeming to be searching for words. Seeing the vizard, which had fallen to the floor, he picked it up, smiling slightly. “Yours?”
    “No, sir, it belongs to my mistress. Your mother, I mean.” She looked down at her simple taffeta. The elaborate mask was not something servants would wear. He might have followed her thoughts.
    “Indeed. Well.” Adam’s manner grew brisk. “Have a care tonight. Mind you’re not running down hallways at the Embrys’. I doubt they’d like it much.” He turned abruptly on his heel, leaving Lucy alone with her flurried thoughts.
    *   *   *
    Moments later, her nose still aching, Lucy pushed open the door to her chambers to find Bessie rummaging through her wooden chest. Bessie started, hiding something under her spring muslin dress. Why did Bessie look guilty? Lucy wondered. She looked like she’d been caught eating the master’s own mutton pie.
    Then Bessie caught sight of Lucy’s face, and nothing else was important. “Oh, dear, Lucy! What happened to you? Why’s your nose all red and swollen?”
    Adam’s face flashed into Lucy’s thoughts, and just as quickly she put the image away. She didn’t want to share the odd moment with anyone, even Bessie. Besides, if Bessie could have secrets, then so could she. “I ran into something,” she hedged, “but, oh! I must look awful!”
    Wordlessly, Bessie pulled out the tarnished old looking glass that the mistress had allowed them to use for the evening. Horrified, Lucy looked at her nose, which looked misshapen and huge. She groaned, sure that her lovely night would be ruined.
    Instantly, Bessie’s arm came around her, comforting and sweet. “Oh, Lucy! Don’t you worry. We’ll have Cook prepare a poultice. You’ll feel better right quick!”
    In the kitchen, Cook took one look at her and began to bustle about. From one stone jar, she pulled a piece of dried fruit off a medlar. She crushed it into a fine powder, then mixed in the juice of red roses, adding a few cloves and nutmeg.
    Lucas, quite comfortably eating a bit of cold turkey pie by the fire, gave a low whistle when he saw Lucy’s face. “Been in a scrap?” he teased. “Your conk’s out of sorts!”
    Her nose now throbbing, Lucy responded tartly, raising her hand. “Yea, and you keep laughing at me, you’ll be getting a right knock across your