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this?”
    Rowena looked at the floor. “I was afraid you might not want to come if you knew.”
    Next to her, Victoria gripped her hand. “You would have come anyway, wouldn’t you have, Pru?”
    She gave Victoria’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course I would have. It’ll be all right.”
    “Of course it will. And it won’t be forever. I’ll think of something.”
    Rowena tried to sound confident, but Prudence could detect the uncertainty in her voice. She turned to the window. Would she have come anyway? Probably. She’d always had one foot in each world. On one hand, she was Pru, racing through the house with her friends, studying at Sir Philip’s feet, traveling with the family to the seaside. On the other hand, she helped her mother keep the schoolroom clean, and occasionally helped with some of her other duties when it was needed. When Sir Philip was alive, the arrangement had worked and they were all happy. But now everything had changed and she didn’t know where she stood anymore.
    The carriage turned a corner and Victoria called out excitedly, “There’s Summerset Abbey, Prudence, look!”
    Prudence craned her neck and her heart sank. Slender Italianate spires seemed to reach for the sky, rising from an imposing structure so massive it took up more than a London city block. The grounds around it were so immaculate and severe that Prudence couldn’t imagine a leaf or stone daring to shift out of place. This was no comfortable home where little girls played hide-and-seek in cozy alcoves, or giggled while they devoured savory meat pies. Poets and artists wouldn’t dare argue over their ale while lounging in front of the fire in this household. At this castle, forit was far more of a castle than a manor, everyone knew his place and stuck to it.
    When they finally reached the front entrance, Lord Summerset leapt from his coach and came around to open their door. Prudence’s knees ached as she stepped down first. A tall, thin woman in a billowing, old-fashioned black wincey dress stood stiffly before her. Prudence gave her an uncertain smile. Surely this wasn’t Lady Summerset? She jumped when Lord Conrad took her by the arm.
    “Prudence, this is Mrs. Harper, our housekeeper. Mrs. Harper, this is Prudence, my nieces’ lady’s maid. Please show her to the servants’ quarters and help her settle in. Her things will be brought up later.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The woman took a firm grip of her elbow and led her around the corner of the building. Prudence glanced back in time to see Victoria and Rowena staring at her, their mouths open.
    One of the footmen, waiting to help Rowena and Victoria down from their coach, also watched the scene unfold with his mouth agape. He almost started after Prudence but the footman next to him gave him an elbow and he fell back into his stance.
    “Where is Mrs. Harper taking Prudence?” Victoria asked, a sense of urgency to her voice, just as Prudence was escorted down a steep set of stairs and through a small side door.
    The servants’ entrance.
    If she didn’t know where she’d stood before, she certainly did now.

CHAPTER
THREE

    L ady Summerset Ambrosia Huxley Buxton watched the arrival of her new charges from the privacy of her boudoir. Her mullioned window overlooked the front courtyard, giving her the advantage of seeing all the comings and goings at Summerset. She watched as her husband dispatched that troublesome girl with due haste. As he should. It was his fault they were in this mess in the first place. She didn’t like assigning blame, but in this case it was all too clear.
    She leaned closer to the window, but the fuzziness around the edges of her sight still wavered. One of the many treats of old age that no one warned her about. Of course, it wasn’t as though one could do anything about it. The alternative to old age was dying young, and while some may think it romantic to die with an unlined face, Lady Summerset had too much common sense to believe