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Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Foreword and Dedication
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Chapter 11
  17. Chapter 12
  18. Chapter 13
  19. Chapter 14
  20. Chapter 15
  21. Chapter 16
  22. Chapter 17
  23. Chapter 18
  24. Chapter 19
  25. Chapter 20
  26. Chapter 21
  27. Chapter 22
  28. Chapter 23
  29. Chapter 24
  30. Chapter 25
  31. Chapter 26
  32. Chapter 27
  33. Chapter 28
  34. Chapter 29
  35. Afterword: An Incident in 1823
  36. Author’s Note
  37. Acknowledgements
  38. About the Author
  39. Also by Hallie Rubenhold

I was content to hear that no harm had come to those beneath my roof and to discover that my effects remained undisturbed, for pilfering was not uncommon in the course of such visits. I surveyed my rooms and ordered Lucy to gather a few pieces of attire and effects which I wished to have sent to the Palais-Royal. It was while I was engaged in this business that Jean Vernet approached me on tentative feet. He was a quiet, heedful young man and I was certain would one day prove to be a loyal valet to some gentleman. He held a letter in his hands as he stood before me, his eyes slightly averted.

‘Please, mademoiselle,’ he began uneasily, ‘this arrived for you in your absence, but as I was uncertain if it was correctly addressed, I did not hand it to Thérèse to be forwarded.’

Though puzzled by his words, I took it from him.

‘Monsieur Langlois, Madame Elliot’s porter, said he received it directly from a messenger at the Hôtel l’Impératrice, where you were once resident.’ He hesitated for an instant. ‘He assured me the name was correct . . .’

I looked down at the packet, which was a filthy, battered thing, and read ‘Lady Allenham’ upon it. My heart fairly stopped. The seal, which bore the profile of a Roman philosopher or poet, offered no clue as to the letter’s sender. Eagerly I broke it open, anxious to learn who would address me by that name. What I discovered within both astonished and intrigued me.

The letter was lengthy and came from the pen of one whom I had all but forgotten: Jean-Baptiste Mariot, Allenham’s former tutor. A good deal of the page was taken up in an effusive apology for the belatedness of his reply. He cited this distemper and that illness before asserting he had made a full return to health. His words then rambled into fond remembrances of ‘a most cherished pupil’, before finally expressing his regret that he had heard nothing of Allenham in several years beyond his last letter ‘which conveyed the news of his impending nuptials with the daughter of an English earl, which I conclude to be you, Lady Allenham’. He then continued: