In time one’s mask becomes one’s face.

I shut my eyes and thought back to the day I’d made a decision that had changed my life completely. I’d made Emmeline Coates’s face my mask—had she become my face?

No. She hadn’t.

With Asa, I’d felt real. I’d felt like me.

A rapping at the door made me jump. I set the book aside and stood. I smoothed my petticoats and drew a breath. Smoothed my petticoats again. I was ready for this. Ready to end my torment. There was nothing to decide or agonize over. I had to do what I had promised Mama, and what I wanted, and what was best.

I hurried into the entryway. The clock there read nine—later than I expected. I ran my hands over my hips one final time, brought a breath all the way down to my toes, and opened the door.

For an eternity, I stood still. Utterly frozen.

The whole world stood still.

It wasn’t Duncan.

“Francisca,” Sewel said. “How fine to see you again after all this time.”

My body unlocked from the grip of terror and I jolted back like I’d been shot. “What—what are you doing here?”

“How kind of you to ask.” His grin spread like oil. “En’t you gonna invite me in so I can tell you?”

“No. You’re not setting foot in this house.”

“You gonna stop me?” He stepped through the door and filled the entryway, his rancid smell—rum, tobacco, sweat—striking me.

My stomach twisted. I staggered back another step. “Get out, Sewel.”

“I don’t think so.” He looked bigger than I remembered, the seams on the shoulders of his coat separating, the buttons on his waistcoat straining, like some force inside him was begging for release. I had made him terrifying in my memories. But he was even more so in the flesh. Ragged. Enormous. Petrifying.

His eyes moved over my shoulder. “This en’t no concern of yours.”

I spun to see Maggie, rushing in.

“Miss Em, what—” She stopped suddenly, the confusion on her face transforming to fear. “Go! Go, you wretch, or you’ll regret it!” Sewel didn’t budge. Maggie’s eyes darted to me. In them, I saw the horrible reality, one we both knew: we could not defend ourselves against such a monster without help. “I’ll get Malcolm.” She spun and ran back out.

“Leave, Sewel,” I said desperately. “These are good people.”

“You worried I’ll hurt ’em, Francisca?” He shook his head in mock disapproval. “You always did think the worst of me. Look at you.” His gaze swept over me, pausing at my waist, my breasts, my pearl collar. “You’re all grown.” The taste of blood poured over my tongue. Sewel’s smile went wider. “You done well for yourself, Daughter.”

“I’m not your—”

Suddenly, screams broke from back of the house. “No! Help! Someone, help me!”

It was Maggie. Maggie, screaming like she was being cut to pieces. My every hair stood on end. Sewel showed no surprise—none at all. He stared at me, waiting.