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Chapters (44)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-One
  36. Chapter Thirty-Two
  37. Chapter Thirty-Three
  38. Chapter Thirty-Four
  39. Chapter Thirty-Five
  40. Chapter Thirty-Six
  41. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  42. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  43. A word about the author...
  44. Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Hugh took the stairs two at a time, hardly able to restrain a shout of glee. Instead, he bellowed at Martin to come at once and help him dress, for he had some important business. “And Mayhew,” he shouted to the butler, “send a message to Lord Hadden to say I will not arrive at the stables today, nor will I attend the club tonight, after all.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

The fog of terror clouding Philomena’s brain cleared as she rehearsed a new plan. She was more than a match for Joseph. There was no need to give up her independence or appeal for help from anyone. She looked with pride around her tiny rooms, prettily decorated with swathes of the loveliest materials she could afford. She had created this small world unaided.

She opened the dresser drawer, to look once more at a few cherished mementos. There was the picture John had drawn, with a small stick boy next to a larger figure, a depiction of Philomena and himself. She had vowed not to look at it, but such a promise proved impossible to keep. She wasted long moments smiling at the childish drawing.

There, too, was the small kerchief John gave her at Christmas. Philomena buried her nose in it. It smelled of the nursery. Blinking away tears, she moved on, searching among the paper and ribbons in the drawer for the precious brooch. She was sure she had left it there, but it had vanished.

Philomena tried to remember the last time she saw the brooch. She felt around the seams of dresses and undergarments; she had sometimes sewn the brooch into clothes for safety. She searched the rooms. This did not take long, for there were few places where the brooch could be hidden. At last, she had to admit that it had gone.

Philomena missed her treasure terribly. She had always kept it safe. She knew it must be valuable, but would never sell it. She loved it, fancying that the lady in the miniature looked a little like her. Samuel, seeing the likeness, had probably bought the brooch cheaply, through one of his shadier acquaintances. Philomena sighed for the loss, but given her current predicament, she had no time to waste on a missing trinket.

She would need all her courage to carry out her plan. Philomena had an unreasonable fear of the dark, ever since that dreadful night in the cutting when the train was derailed. She could overcome any number of frights while the sun still shone, but the scheme she proposed would need the cover of darkness.