Read Online Sea of Secrets: A Novel of Victorian Romantic Suspense by Amanda DeWees - Free Book Online Page B

duchess must have had it made on the death of her husband, although she wore no mourning now. She could not have worn the gown more than a few times, and I marveled at the extravagance of purchasing a mourning wardrobe that would only be used for a few weeks.
    It was awkward being dressed by another person, when I had dressed myself since I was old enough to fasten a button; even though Jane did not subject me to any more measuring looks, I was fiercely self-conscious, and clumsy at getting my arms into the sleeves. When she had hooked me up I breathed an inward sigh of relief, but the ordeal was not over: she had orders to dress my hair as well. Sitting at the dressing table as her hands worked nimbly over my head, I wondered if I would be able to accustom myself to these strange ministrations and cease feeling like an invalid unable to fend for herself, or a spoiled princess who could not be permitted to raise a finger on her own behalf.
    In the end I had to appreciate Jane’s efforts, though. Instead of my usual braid, my hair had been coaxed into two shining wings that met in a graceful braided chignon at the back of my neck. The unexpected weight of it made me hold my head carefully, as if a governess had balanced a book on it, but the effect was undeniably attractive. The rich color of the borrowed dress suited me, as the duchess had predicted, and I felt my spirits rise. It was heartening that I would not have to meet the rest of my new family looking like a Quakeress.
    I thanked Jane again, more warmly, and she accepted the thanks with a complacent curtsey, well aware of the feat she had wrought. I pinned on my mourning brooch, so bright with Lionel’s gold hair that it seemed too ornamental for mourning. Then I rose to join the others. Despite my new confidence in my appearance, I was aware of my heart beating emphatically beneath the borrowed finery as I followed Jane down stairs and passages to the drawing room where she said the family assembled before dinner.
    When I entered I thought at first that Jane had led me to the wrong room, for there was no sign of the duchess or of Felicity. The only sounds were the ticking of a massive grandfather clock and the occasional crack and spit of the fire. Rich, restful shades of russet and bronze warmed the carpet, furniture, and draperies, and two massive, welcoming armchairs flanked the Adam fireplace. As I hovered just inside the doorway, wondering if I should call Jane back, a small brown and white spaniel lifted its head and offered an inquisitive woofle. At the sound, a man’s face appeared around the sheltering wing of one chair. Instantly it was followed by the rest of him.
    “I beg your pardon; I didn’t hear you come in.” He used a cane to cross the room toward me, and this confirmed my conjecture as to his identity. “You were so quiet you might have been a ghost.” His smile was friendly and guileless, his voice surprisingly deep.
    “I used to be called Mouse, because I am so quiet,” I said. It was probably not the best way to introduce myself, but without an intermediary to perform the introductions I felt uncertain and shy, and said the only words that came to me.
    “Not a very flattering nickname,” he said easily, not seeming to find my reply strange. “Or even very appropriate. But perhaps it suited you better when you were a child.”
    “Perhaps.” I was already regretting having mentioned it; I had never liked Lionel’s nickname for me, and now it was too painful a reminder of him. I stooped to pat the spaniel, who was investigating my skirts with a cold nose. “What is his name?”
    “Zeus.” He met my eye and we laughed. “That was Felicity’s doing, not mine; I would have named him Candide, since he is such an optimist. He greets everyone as if they had a soup bone in their pocket.” He was watching with an indulgent smile as Zeus and I got acquainted, his hands folded on his stick. “If you’ll allow me to say so, you have