Page 51 of My Noble Disgrace

“Come on.” I gestured to her to follow me into the open Avenue, turning left and walking alongside the fence as if we belonged there.

An Enforcer approached, heading in the opposite direction.

“Good evening, Enforcer,” said Cait in her haughty noblewoman’s voice.

I tipped my head, my words caught in my throat. I was much less confident speaking when I wasn’t sure how my voice would come out.

He gave us a curt but respectful nod, likely assuming I was escorting her home before curfew. He passed us by without a hint of suspicion.

I let out the breath I’d been holding, picking up my pace when there was no one else ahead of us for the time being.

Cait’s shoes clicked against the wet cobblestone, her skirts swishing more urgently as she sped up.

“Any chance you can walk any quieter?” I muttered.

“Fashionable women donotwalk quietly,” she hissed back.

When we reached the corner of the iron fence, at the place it turned toward the city wall, we darted out of the avenue and started alongside it. I preferred to climb the fence where it met the wall, giving me less chance of being impaled by the sharp iron finials.

“Fine,” said Cait. “These really are loud.” She stopped, reaching down to remove one shoe, then the other. Then she lifted her skirts, a shoe in each hand, and ran barefoot along the fence, surprisingly nimble in the heavy pink dress.

“Gonna keep up?” she asked.

I glanced back to make sure the coast was clear, then I abandoned all my Enforcer dignity and sprinted, hoping no one would see us and wonder what we were up to.

The curfew warning bell rang, reverberating against the stone wall. We had only minutes before Cait’s presence on the streets would be highly suspicious.

I had to get her over the fence first, despite the layers of skirts that were sure to make it difficult.

We ran until we reached the intersection of the iron fence and the stone wall. The grounds were quiet, the windows of the house dark. I imagined my father inside, alone in a room with nothing but a single candle to read by. He preferred the darkness, perhaps because he was raised on Tramore where nights were passed without lanterns or luxuries. Despite all his years living in a noble house, he hadn’t ever fully adopted the Immovable lifestyle. He lived simply and scarcely, rejecting servants, and only wearing finery when required to make a public appearance.

If my mother was still alive, however, I was sure the windows would’ve been bright.

An unexpected ache for the life I could’ve had washed over me like an ocean wave.

But no, here I was, disguised as an Enforcer, running from my crimes, and trying to save my father from his selfish actions.

The ache was quickly replaced with resentment, the undertow of anger dragging me down into its depths.

I scowled at the dark house. I hated the man inside, and I hated that he still had a hold on me.

A rustle drew my attention and I looked over to see Cait grasping at the ribbons on her back. “Help please?” She asked, out of breath.

“You’re taking your clothes off?” I asked. “Here?”

“How else am I supposed to get over this fence?” Cait pointed at the sharp iron finials. “I can’t climb in this! And even if I can, it will tear my dress to shreds. I need this hideous thing.”

“I have dresses inside,” I said.

“Hardly,” she said. “I’ve seen your closet and it’s not Zenitha-approved.”

She was right. Other than my long-lost coronation gown, I hadn’t been well-dressed. There had been no reason to be when I’d been housebound for several years.

“Fine,” I said, reaching for the ribbons and hastily untying them.

When the gown was loosened, she slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, stepping out of it. Another full skirt remained over the corset and underdress. She groaned and untied it, but another layer of lace remained.

“Damn this thing!” She whispered. “How many dresses did Zenitha put on me?”

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