LITMIR.BIZ

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that looked like a man, tall and wearing garments that sparkled as they caught the light. But its true self was to a human as Ash’s former shape was to this foreign body he wore: seductive, certain of its power, outshining everything that stood in its presence.

      Fane. His enemy. The one who had sent him into exile.

      Shuddering with anger, Ash bared his teeth, and a growl rumbled deep in his chest. They had been together, the Fane and Donnington. They had conspired against him. They had made him nothing.

      Nothing except to Mariah, who had given him a name and a purpose, though that purpose was only beginning to take shape in his mind. Escape, that first. Then find the ones who had done this, and.

      No. There was more. More he must do.

      A well of longing opened up inside him. A yearning to be again what he had been, to live his life among others of his own kind.

       Why am I here? Why have I been punished?

      There were no answers. His memory remained clouded; Mariah had no idea who he was now, far less what he had been in that other world. But punished he had been, driven from his home, given this mortal body in which to suffer pain and humiliation.

      He upended the basin and watched the water darken the hard stone floor. Only a few moments ago he had been thinking of surrendering Mariah in exchange for his freedom. Now he began to see the course he must take. Mariah was not merely the path to escape.

      Mariah was the key. The key to everything.

      To give her up would be disaster.

      Ash returned to his usual place and slid down against the wall. Mariah would come to him again. And when she did, he would begin to remember why she, more than anything else in the world, could save him.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “WHY DID THE countess take Lord Donnington’s clothing from his room?”

      Nola shivered, afraid—as well she might be—to have been summoned into her former mistress’s presence, but Vivian was in no mood to salve the girl’s anxiety.

      “Come, girl. I know you spoke to Lady Donnington privately. Why did she ask you to attend her?”

      The maid gulped audibly. “My … my lady … the countess only wanted to ask about the coal and … she said she had taken a chill and would like a bit more to—”

      “You are not a practiced deceiver, Nola, I can see that well enough.”

      “I beg your pardon, your ladyship.” Nola straightened, and Vivian almost wondered if she were attempting some pathetic sort of defiance. “The countess only wanted to talk.”

      “To a chambermaid?”

      “She was very kind to me, your ladyship. I didn’t know the countess took any of his lordship’s clothing.”

      This time Vivian’s well-honed sense for duplicity told her that the maid was telling the truth, however much else she might wish to conceal. “Most peculiar,” Vivian said, displeased. She folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward, fixing Nola with a gaze that had intimidated many a greater personage. “She said nothing about Lord Donnington?”

      “She said she knew how much your ladyship missed his lordship.”

      Her words bordered on the impertinent, but once more Vivian detected a large element of truth in what the maid disclosed. Odd that Mariah should be concerned about her mother-in-law’s feelings for her son.

      “Did she say she missed him, as well?” Vivian asked shortly.

      “Perhaps …” Nola brushed at her uniform and gazed at the figured carpet under her feet. “Begging your pardon, your ladyship, but if she took Lord Donnington’s clothing, perhaps it was because she wanted something of him near her.”

      Nola’s imagination was impressive for a girl of her age and occupation. Vivian allowed a little of the starch to go out of her spine, selected a biscuit from the silver tray on the table beside her and broke off the most minute piece she could. Her hands began to stiffen and ache with the old complaint.

      “You are quite well-spoken for a maid, Nola,” she said, doing her best to disregard the pain. “Where did Mrs. Baines find you?”

      “In the village, your ladyship.”

      “Is your family there?”

      “No, your ladyship. My mother is in Barway, and is not well. She must have medicines. I was employed as a seamstress’s assistant.”

      Then her coming to Donbridge was a great improvement in her circumstances, for which she must be daily grateful, Vivian thought.

      “I am sorry to hear of your mother’s affliction,” she said.

      Nola curtseyed. “You are kind, your ladyship.”

      As kind as you are stupid, my dear, Vivian thought. “You have some education,” she said.

      “A little, your ladyship.”

      “Enough to make you worthy to converse with a countess.”

      Nola never lifted her gaze from the floor. “I never expected such an honor, your ladyship.”

      Vivian was rapidly growing weary of the interrogation. “Let me get directly to the point, Nola,” she said. “I would like you to make the most of this new confidence.”

      The girl finally looked up, a flash of alarm on her round, seemingly guileless face. “I don’t understand, your ladyship.”

      With the most delicate of motions, Vivian crumbled the bit of biscuit into a napkin without tasting it. “I should think a girl of your obvious intelligence would comprehend me very well. Are you capable of discretion?”

      Nola hesitated, but not a moment longer than she should. “Yes, your ladyship.”

      “There are many things my daughter-in-law prefers to keep to herself, and I wish to get to know her better. You might be of great assistance to me in this enterprise.”

      “How, your ladyship?”

      “By making yourself easily available whenever she wishes to talk. By proving yourself her most loyal confidante.”

      “But my duties, your—”

      Vivian brushed the crumbs off her fingers. “You shall be excused from any duties which might interfere with your new appointment. There shall be no penalties … unless you choose to decline my suggestion.”

      Their gazes met. The girl was under no illusion as to what Vivian implied. “Am I to report anything she says to me, your ladyship?”

      “I see we understand each other, Nola.” Vivian permitted herself a beneficent smile. “You shall also discreetly follow her when she walks the grounds, especially in areas out of sight of the house. You must by no means allow her to see you.”

      “Does your ladyship fear she might injure herself?”

      Such questioning from a maid was beyond anything Vivian would ordinarily have allowed, but she had set her course and intended to follow it to the end.

      “I do fear for her,” she said with a sigh of mock concern. “One never knows what a young matron might do when she is so early separated from her husband.”

      Which was a topic even this bold chit didn’t dare to address. “Yes, your ladyship,” she murmured.

      “You shall find me very appreciative of your services to me. Perhaps your mother will recover more quickly than you anticipated.”

      Nola flushed. Angry, Vivian guessed. But not prepared to let such unsuitable emotions rob her of her position and the hope Vivian had offered her.

      “I am honored to serve your ladyship in any way,” Nola said with a deep curtsey,

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