and good character to her. His gambling and occasional drinking were just ways to blow off steam from the extreme amount of pressure Lachlan always put on him when he left on his raiding or hunting expeditions. She knew in her heart he was a good man. Both her brothers were. Weren’t they? What she’d seen on the back of that page froze her to her bones. Blood and chanting and time travel? Her mind reeling, she realized she needed to get out of there and hurriedly put everything away the way she’d found it.
And now she was about to ransack her chaperone’s room. Her anger and confusion had settled in her chest and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to justify to herself the reason for searching Miss Burnet’s things as well as Quinn’s. If she was caught, they’d send her back to Scotland without blinking. Just a few days earlier that would have been fine by her, but now she quite liked London. Her kind new aunt would be so ashamed, and she’d never see her new friend Oliver again. The thought of Oliver, and his smiling, kind eyes, almost made her turn around and go back to her own room to try to sleep away the disturbing things she’d learned.
It was the recollection of Quinn and Miss Burnet’s many exchanged looks to one another that kept her heading up the stairs. It was possible they were just flirting. It was completely probable given Quinn’s reputation, but now that Catie had the seed of suspicion rapidly growing in her mind, it shadowed any sensible thoughts that might have made her turn back. She wouldn’t put it past Quinn to have chosen Miss Burnet for reasons other than merely guiding her through the morass of society. Perhaps they were in cahoots together!
She’d worked herself into a fine frenzy of indignation and only felt the slightest twinge of guilt when she opened Miss Burnet’s small wooden jewel box. Disappointment welled when all that it held were a few pieces of cheap jewelry. She rifled through the book on the bedside table and carefully sorted through the chest of clothes, finding the most bizarre and spectacular pair of shoes she’d ever seen. They were wispy, with tiny silver buckles and thin shiny straps, and the highest, most tottering heels she’d ever seen. Her foot was way too big as she compared them against the bottom of her slipper, but she tried one on anyway, holding onto the headboard of the bed for balance as she teetered on the magnificent shoe. ‘Made in Italy’ was neatly written in gold on the sole, and on the bottom of the inside she made out the words ‘Genuine Leather Sole - Balance Man Made’, along with the number 37.
She shook off the fascination with the shoes and put them back under all the other clothes. She had a mission to find information, not try on all Miss Burnet’s things. That was just creepy, and wasn’t her intent. Pushing down her shame, she lay flat on the floor and peered under the bed. Her heart raced when she saw a box under there, and reached for it, getting a face full of dust bunnies for her trouble.
The box was wrapped four times with string. Catie made sure to count as she unwound it, feeling like a foreign spy, and realizing with a jolt that was exactly what she was right now.
“This is wrong,” she whispered, her hands poised over the lid of the box. There was still time to turn back and keep a bit of her integrity. “Bugger it all,” she muttered, flipping off the top. There was no turning back now.
All she found were a few tatty old books, mostly plays and a couple filled with musical scores. Unable to pinpoint why she was disappointed, she started to close the box back up when a bit of bright white at the bottom of the pile caught her eye. It wasn’t a book, but a folded up envelope. She turned it in her hand, admiring the crisp, bright paper, then unfolded it and held it for a moment. If she opened it and read what was inside, she might find out something she didn’t want to know, very much like she had in
And now she was about to ransack her chaperone’s room. Her anger and confusion had settled in her chest and she wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to justify to herself the reason for searching Miss Burnet’s things as well as Quinn’s. If she was caught, they’d send her back to Scotland without blinking. Just a few days earlier that would have been fine by her, but now she quite liked London. Her kind new aunt would be so ashamed, and she’d never see her new friend Oliver again. The thought of Oliver, and his smiling, kind eyes, almost made her turn around and go back to her own room to try to sleep away the disturbing things she’d learned.
It was the recollection of Quinn and Miss Burnet’s many exchanged looks to one another that kept her heading up the stairs. It was possible they were just flirting. It was completely probable given Quinn’s reputation, but now that Catie had the seed of suspicion rapidly growing in her mind, it shadowed any sensible thoughts that might have made her turn back. She wouldn’t put it past Quinn to have chosen Miss Burnet for reasons other than merely guiding her through the morass of society. Perhaps they were in cahoots together!
She’d worked herself into a fine frenzy of indignation and only felt the slightest twinge of guilt when she opened Miss Burnet’s small wooden jewel box. Disappointment welled when all that it held were a few pieces of cheap jewelry. She rifled through the book on the bedside table and carefully sorted through the chest of clothes, finding the most bizarre and spectacular pair of shoes she’d ever seen. They were wispy, with tiny silver buckles and thin shiny straps, and the highest, most tottering heels she’d ever seen. Her foot was way too big as she compared them against the bottom of her slipper, but she tried one on anyway, holding onto the headboard of the bed for balance as she teetered on the magnificent shoe. ‘Made in Italy’ was neatly written in gold on the sole, and on the bottom of the inside she made out the words ‘Genuine Leather Sole - Balance Man Made’, along with the number 37.
She shook off the fascination with the shoes and put them back under all the other clothes. She had a mission to find information, not try on all Miss Burnet’s things. That was just creepy, and wasn’t her intent. Pushing down her shame, she lay flat on the floor and peered under the bed. Her heart raced when she saw a box under there, and reached for it, getting a face full of dust bunnies for her trouble.
The box was wrapped four times with string. Catie made sure to count as she unwound it, feeling like a foreign spy, and realizing with a jolt that was exactly what she was right now.
“This is wrong,” she whispered, her hands poised over the lid of the box. There was still time to turn back and keep a bit of her integrity. “Bugger it all,” she muttered, flipping off the top. There was no turning back now.
All she found were a few tatty old books, mostly plays and a couple filled with musical scores. Unable to pinpoint why she was disappointed, she started to close the box back up when a bit of bright white at the bottom of the pile caught her eye. It wasn’t a book, but a folded up envelope. She turned it in her hand, admiring the crisp, bright paper, then unfolded it and held it for a moment. If she opened it and read what was inside, she might find out something she didn’t want to know, very much like she had in
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