It was rare that I ever cried. A woman had to be in control of her emotions at all times. But I could shed tears on command and I utilized that talent now as the chaos of the night died down.

Face in my hands as I took a handkerchief handed to me, I listened to Duke Chamberlain and his wife tend to their son.

I, apparently, was not the only one in tears.

"What has happened," Mason's father demanded. "And...and, are you wet?"

"Tears," Mason said through gnashed teeth, "or urine, perhaps even some blood, I haven't the faintest idea which to blame at this point."

Hunched over with a cushion in his lap, Mason took measured breaths.

They'd found him in my bedroom. From that moment, it no longer mattered as to the why.

His mother, still dressed for bed but covered in a long robe, hurried to dab a wet cloth along his forehead. That would have little effect but I decided not to convey that part.

"What has happened?" she asked, echoing her husband.

With Mason silent in his recovery, there was only one thing left to do. I drew in my last sniff, rose to my feet, marched out of that family room and up the stairs to pack my suitcase.

I carried two down and put them to rest while announcing, "I do not think I can spend the night here."

Duchess Chamberlain's haunted expression darkened as she looked between me and her son.

"Child," she said to me, "whatever do you think you are doing? Whatever's the matter?"

"I do not wish to stay here," I said, "and what I need is a cab."

The fear in her eyes meant she understood that I was serious, and I was. Far more than I'd realized when I'd packed.

"Wait. Let us calm," the duchess cooed. "Let us calm. Sit. Sit for a moment. At this time of night, a woman should never roam the streets. Sit. And let us discuss this."

But what was there to discuss? He'd never confess to any wrongdoing. It would all fall at my feet regardless.

The duchess opened the door to the hallway then closed it yet again. Perhaps that meant Lana was still asleep.

I was not amused.

Mason still hardly moved. Considering that his father had to help him down the stairs, it should have been more than obvious what ailed him.

"Right. Let's get this confusion all cleared up."

Face turned away, found my act catching up with me. I was trembling. That wasn't with intention. My hands shook.

What a way to leave. What an awful way to leave. I would not get a reference letter or a good word put in. And my reputation.... What would I do?

I—

"I entered her room without knocking and...she wasn't in her dress," Mason muttered.

His words surprised me enough that I turned to regard him. He still kept his eyes on the floor even as his mother gasped, hands at her mouth.

"You...."

"It was an honest mistake," Mason professed. "She misunderstood me." When no one spoke, he picked his head up finally and looked around. "Mother, I can choose any woman I want within a thirty-mile radius. Why would I do something like this? And now? And in my very home?" No one spoke, and he hung his head and muttered into the cushion on is lap, "Besides, you of all people should believe me that I have better taste."

A shadow fell over me and I no longer sat on that settee. In fact, I was adrift. I ignored the duke's uncomfortable chuckle as he approached me and insisted this was a misunderstanding. Despite trying with all my might to make out the duchess's miserable excuses, I could hardly care.

No. None of those words reached. Only what Mason had said. I supposed I looked foolish sitting there with my suitcases packed, threatening to leave as if anyone would stop me.

Now when I focused on Mason's parents, I prayed they would not throw me out for causing such a ruckus at this time of night.

In the morning, I could see about finding new lodgings. My sister did not live far. If I could get to her, I'd have a least a room for one night, perhaps two if her material problems had improved in the last few years.

When I stood, the room fell silent. I bowed my head and said, "May I leave these here at the doorway? I will need them in the morning."

The duchess looked ready to refuse but her husband jumped to his feet and insisted I sleep now and calm my nerves.

"Feel free to use the key from now on. You know, as you should be aware you were always able to do."

His words gave me pause. I made the mistake of glancing back at them to see the anger below the surface. They were wrong in their assumption that I'd ever undress without locking my door. Till now, I always had.

When I focused on Mason who wouldn't look at me, these tears were real. That was why I hurried out into the hall then up the stairs.

They thought I'd done it on purpose.

It didn't matter if I wanted to stay now. The damage was done.

My mother'd always told me to never sleep with my door locked. If a fire ever broke out, no one could reach me. And in a situation of heavy smoke, finding a key wasn't always easy.

But I locked my door. And as I could not sleep with it like that, I sat in my chair, staring at the key in the lock.

I'd worked so hard. Years of hard work, and harsh words, and being careful, washed away. Perfectly washed away in the blink of an eye over...over what? I did not know.

When the morning came, I'd nodded off. The sound of something being put by my door awakened me. I hadn't even changed out of the filthy clothes I'd gone into the lake in. I dared not check the state of my hair.

Now in my moment of sobriety, no longer drunk with fear and panic, I realized that my essential things were in the bags downstairs.

I let out a sigh, wishing for death.

The knock was tentative. With the sun already risen, I supposed it was safe for whomever it was to assume I was awake.

One more knock came and then nothing more. I waited for whoever it was to leave before I decided to try and get my toiletries at least.

When I opened the door to rush out, I nearly fell on my luggage. Save for the suitcases, there was no one there. I did not dwell on that fact for long. Instead, I changed and tidied up and made myself presentable.

I was late arriving for breakfast but I was sure to keep my bags packed.

The hurried chatter that filled even the hallway confused me.

"Well, give her more!"

"Shh!" the duchess snapped. "What do you mean give her more? After such a despicable stunt."

"Your mother's right," the duke proclaimed. "I hadn't imagined she was like that."

"It was my fault," Mason insisted. "I should have knocked harder."

"What kind of woman changes her clothes with an unlocked door?" his father demanded.

My body lost most of its power. A fist landed on the table, so hard that the cutlery and dishes smashed into one another.

"I said give her more money. You have more money. So give it to her. If you let her walk out over this nonsense, I'll never forgive either of you! If either of you weren't so stingy, she wouldn't have been looking for a new employer in the first place."

His mother gasped. I imagined her hand at her chest. "Whatever do you mean? Do you even know how much she earns?"

Mason's voice boomed. "I won't be repeating myself. She'd better be here when I get back."

A door slammed, shaking the entire house. I inched back up the stairs and waited for the front door to open and shut before I risked descending once more.

It was quite all right if he was angry because I would not be here when he returned.

The thought had occurred to forget my manners and simply slip out now. But that would make me guilty.

I made a hard choice and entered the dining room.

A place was set for me but I didn't approach the table. Instead, I said, "I shall say goodbye to Lana and find my own way into town if it's all the same."

The duke picked at his meal but his wife watched the table. When I turned to depart, she stood.

"Wait."

But I didn't want to obey. I simply wanted to leave.

A bony hand rested on my shoulder in time. Finally, the woman stood before me, her black and silver hair done up in a tight bun making her look regal.

"I would like to apologize."

I met eyes with her, assuring her of my innocence.

"Mason brought your bags back upstairs this morning. He keeps insisting that he's to blame. I...I think I owe you an apology."

She didn't—her son did.

There were few things to like about duchess Chamberlain. In fact, she had a terrible reputation for being a cutthroat. Having been raised by an even bigger cutthroat, I often compared her to my own mother.

Each time my assessment ended, I came to one conclusion—she was an infant in the game social climbing. That wasn't to say she wasn't skilled. But my mother was a special kind of sinister.

And as Duchess Chamberlain was a woman trying to cling to her status, I could always be direct in all matters of social etiquette.

"You have nothing to apologize for," I told her. "Any caring mother in your position would come to the same conclusion. Even my own. That is why I see no reason to argue it. A scandal can come out of thin air if someone simply sneezed into the wind properly."

The duchess squeezed my shoulders. I could tell she was fond of me, as fond as she could be to anyone who wasn't her own blood. I wasn't worthy of any risk but there was one weakness that proved her undoing. Mason. Her worship of him often cost the family dearly.

Today, she'd be spared. I was leaving.

"You're looking for new employment," she said, going for a direct bribe. "The king has daughters—"

"I do not wish to work for the king," I said, for it was true. "Meeting my stepsister daily would be a slow death."

She cleared her throat and scrambled for anything that would interest me.

"Well, how about some extra business for your father's store?"

Her words hit me hard. Harder still when I confessed, "My father passed away. I'm honored that you recognize his name. He had a good reputation."

"Really? But...but just yesterday I saw one of his stores in the city."

That would be my mother's doing—barely hanging on to the business.

"Are you saying you know of a way to gain more sales?"

She had my interest, a bit too much. Before I knew it, she maneuvered me to the table and sat me beside her.