Page 40 of The Theory of Earls (The Beautiful Barringtons 1)

Margaret counted to ten before her eyes popped open. She turned to look at the clock on her nightstand. She must wait.

When her aunt opened Margaret’s door a few hours later to check on her, Margaret lay very still and kept her breathing even and slow. Aunt Agnes was on her way out. She’d been asked to join Lady Patson at a ball tonight. Margaret couldn’t remember which one, nor did she care. She’d caught a glance at the invitation sitting on a tray in the hall. She could smell her aunt’s freshly applied perfume and hear the swish of her silk gown. If she rolled over, Margaret would catch sight of a hideous turban perched on her head.

She didn’t move until she heard the front door close and her aunt’s carriage pull away.

Margaret threw back the blanket. She positioned the pillows from her bed to resemble a person sleeping and then drew up the coverlet. In the darkness, no one would know the difference. After all, Aunt Agnes always said Margaret left so little impression on a person she was nearly invisible. Tonight, she’d put her aunt’s philosophy to the test.

Eliza was a traitor, but she was also stupid.

Clad only in her shift and stockings, she made her way to her wardrobe and grabbed her worn half-boots, ignoring the neat row of dresses and gowns. Where she was going, a dress wasn’t required.

An old wool cloak hung in the back of the wardrobe, one she hadn’t worn since leaving Yorkshire. The wool was gray, slightly moth-eaten, and patched in places. If any of the servants caught sight of Margaret, they would assume her to be one of them. She threw the cloak over her shoulders and paused at the mirror.

A thick braid of hair hung over one shoulder. As she pulled the cloak around her, Margaret was relieved to see the old wool covered every inch of her from chin to ankles. Her eyes were dark against the stark oval of her face, but she didn’t look the least bit afraid.

Not at all like a woman who was about to perform a private concert, half-naked, for a gentleman at Elysium.

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