Page 61 of My Rogue, My Ruin
Lana frowned, her dark eyes narrowing. “Why would you need me to do this?”
“I need to go somewhere, and Mama will kill me if I leave the house.”
“Lord Northridge cannot take you?”
“No,” Brynn said hastily. “He cannot know.”
Lana’s frown deepened. For once, Brynn wished that she would simply listen as a servant should. Then again, if Lana were any ordinary servant, she would go immediately to Brynn’s mother.
“Please, Lana, I need your help.”
The plea seemed to soften her maid’s pinched reaction. “Where will you go?”
Brynn gritted her teeth. She had no choice but to tell Lana the truth, for she would see right through any lie. It was one of the things she loved to hate about her. Lana was sharp and clever, and earning her trust had not been accomplished by telling her lies. She drew a deep breath. “I am going to see Lord Hawksfield.”
Lana sat on the edge of Brynn’s bed, her disbelief plain.
“Surely that isn’t wise. There was a man here questioning the servants all day. He asked me many things.”
Alarm shivered along Brynn’s veins. “What did you tell him?”
“The usual,” Lana said. “That I came here from Russia eight months ago, worked for the Countess Langlevit shortly before receiving a position here, and now I am your lady’s maid. And that you are a sickly girl who needs constant attention and looking after.”
Brynn’s tension drained away at Lana’s words and the teasing smile on her face. Lana was quick on the uptake. She would never betray her mistress, Brynn knew. What she didn’t know was whether Lana would agree to do this one thing for her. “So will you help me?”
“Should Mrs. Frommer learn of this, I will lose my position.”
Brynn exhaled, knowing Lana was right.
“I understand,” she said, her plan quickly unraveling around her. She would never wish Lana to suffer for her actions.
“However,” Lana added, her brow rising. “Mrs. Frommer is rather busy today interviewing a few girls for the second laundress position.”
Hope renewed, Brynn took Lana’s hands in hers. “We won’t get caught. All you must do is go downstairs and alert my mother that you will be sitting with me for some time while I rest, and that I don’t wish to be disturbed. And tell the kitchen to withhold my luncheon tray. Then come back up here and settle into bed with the mask, just in case.”
Brynn hoped it would be enough.
“Be swift about it then,” Lana said with a glance at the breathing tube. “Lord knows what will happen to me, breathing in that appalling concoction.”
Brynn grinned at Lana’s near aristocratic diction and, throwing decorum to the wind, flung her arms around her. She supposed Lana’s command of language stemmed from listening to the ladies of the Russian aristocracy in her mother’s dress shop. “Don’t worry,” she told her. “It’s only vinegar, camphor, cinnamon, and some other aromatic herbs.”
Lana helped Brynn dress in a simple navy day dress and began tucking her hair into a bun at her nape.
“Thank you for doing this,” she whispered.
“Don’t get caught,” Lana said, draping a gray cloak over her shoulders. “The things I do for you. Worse than my own sister.”
Brynn turned to her. “You have a sister?”
“Yes,” Lana said quietly before giving the cloak a final sweep of her hands. She clearly did not wish to speak of her, Brynn determined.
She tightened the cloak and pulled the hood over her head, and recalled something else Lana had said. “You did claim that we English had no sense of adventure. Am I proving you wrong now?”
“I was talking about dancing, not secretly meeting a lover.”
“He’s not my lover!” Brynn cried, though her entire body fired at the thought.
“He should be, if you’re going through all this trouble.” Lana’s response was soft, but Brynn still heard it as her maid cracked open the door to leave and do as her mistress had asked. Her limbs felt like water, and her breathing had tripled its normal pace.
