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the edge of the skirt. Amelia frowned, knowing she couldn’t return to her room now and ask Dulce to help her dress for dinner.
    The apartment part of the building was simply a long hallway that stretched back toward the courtyard from the mercantile. On either side of the hall was a series of doors that led no doubt to other bedrooms. When she found herself at the back entry to the store without having encountered another soul or even another room, Amelia stopped, turned, and looked back, thinking she’d somehow missed something. There was nothing to do but begin opening doors and pray she did not walk into someone’s bedroom.
    When she opened the first door nearest the garden, she smiled. It was the kitchen and it was completely empty. Her stomach rumbled as she looked around for someone preparing food. But no, she was completely alone.
    Amelia had not grown up in a wealthy home, but she’d always had a few servants running about: a maid, a cook, and a housekeeper. Her family had been poor compared to the way her friends had lived because her father had been a second son. Her brother had inherited the earldom only after their childless uncle had died.
    Still, Amelia was not used to fending for herself. Stealing pastries from Cook’s tray was her only experience foraging for food. She stepped into the room and began looking into cupboards.
    “You won’t find anything,” Dulce said cheerfully from the door. “At least nothing fancy.”
    “Do you know what time they dine?” Amelia asked, ignoring the way the other girl was attempting, rather poorly, not to smile.
    “I have no idea when they dine,” she said, putting stress on the last word as if she somehow found it offensive. “But I do know if they did, they would have done it already. It’s nearly eight o’clock.”
    Amelia stared at the empty kitchen with a certain amount of dismay. Eight o’clock was when she usually dined at home, and often later if they were eating out at another estate.
    “Where is everyone? Where are Carson and Boone?”
    Dulce shrugged. “I’m going to bed. You’re all unpacked. And if you hear screaming, don’t worry, it’s just Boone.”
    She said the words with a certain amount of glee, as if she were trying to frighten Amelia. Still, Amelia couldn’t resist asking, “Why would he scream?”
    “The devil visits him at night,” Dulce said, a wicked gleam in her eye. Then she shrugged, as if knowing she wasn’t frightening her listener. “He has nightmares. Wakes Carson up near every night when he’s here.”
    “I’m certain I won’t be disturbed. Good night.” Amelia didn’t think it was possible that the girl had managed to hang and fold everything neatly, but she didn’t say anything. Suddenly, Amelia felt a fierce longing for home, for the polished marble floors, the thick velvet drapes, the smell of flowers blooming madly outside her window. She missed the bustle and politeness of efficient servants, her brother’s friendly banter, the laughter and general noise of her little cousins.
    Amelia had spent much of her childhood utterly alone. Her older sister had died when she was eight, her parents when she was twelve. Her brother, Edward, had gone into the military because there was no other way to respectably make a living. Of course, their uncle, the earl, had been kept oblivious to any of their financial worries, her brother’s pride knowing no limits.
    But Amelia hadn’t minded being part of the poor gentry. They’d had enough income from their rather sad estate to support a small staff and the upkeep of their home. She’d never felt poor or deprived. But, Lord, she had felt lonely. Her brother came home when he could, but his visits seemed few and far between. She grew up in a household of elderly servants who hadn’t a clue how to make a young girl happy.
    When her brother inherited not only the earldom but also his stepaunt’s six children, Amelia had been ecstatic. Finally, she had a family,