His Wicked Sins by Silver Eve Read Free Book Online Page B

Elizabeth Canham.
    Her moon-pale hair.
    Her wide, lush mouth.
    The way she had made him smile.

    * * *
The bell tolled at half past six the next morning, calling teachers and pupils both to the
    start of a new day. Awake and out of bed even before the summons, Beth stood by the
    heavy window curtains and looked out at hammering rain and an angry sky. A gloomy
    welcome to her new home.
    She was a little surprised to realize that despite the boom of thunder and the pounding
    of the storm, she had slept well, exhausted from her travels, grateful to have finally
    reached her destination.
    Fatigued by her journey, she had been sorely tempted to fall fully clothed upon the bed
    the previous night. She had seen immediately that the linens and blankets on the bed were
    fresh, a circumstance that made her more comfortable than she might have been. But her
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    nature felt uneasy with leaving her things packed in a trunk. She had a preference for
    order and neatness. So she had put her belongings away on the shelves of the large
    wooden clothing press in the corner, folding and organizing until she was satisfied.
    Everything in its place, organized by color and function.
    That chore complete, she had nodded off quickly as she lay in bed, silently revisiting
    the things she had discussed with her mother before leaving home, preparing and planning
    for the next day's lesson, her very first. Unable to brave the full dark in this new and
    strange place, she had left the rushlight burning and drifted off to its small illumination.
    The heavy curtains she had left open. She would have opened the window as well, were
    the weather even a bit friendly. Still, she had slept the whole night through undisturbed by
    dreams or nightmares. Unusual. It was rare for her to sleep so deeply.
    Now there came a brisk knocking at her chamber door, calling Beth's attention from the
    dismal view beyond the windowpanes. As she turned, something caught her eye, a
    shadow, a shape at the corner of the back garden wall, curtained by the sheeting rain.
    She paused, and leaned close to the cold glass, squinting into the gloom.
    There … a shadowy form, barely discernable, a charcoal lump against the backdrop of
    the blackened trunk of the dead tree.
    Shifting her weight, she tried to alter her position to better her line of sight, but the three
    dead trees, and the man—if indeed it was a man—stood to the west, barely in sight, for the
    view from her window opened to the south.
    The knocking came again, louder, the maid impatient to be about her duties. Beth cast a
    glance over her shoulder, and when she returned her attention to the window, the shadow
    was gone.
    No man.
    Only three dead trees lurking in the storm.
    With a shake of her head, she crossed the room and opened the door to take the jug of
    warm water from the maid. The girl mumbled a morning greeting and scurried in to empty
    the chamber pot and wipe it clean. Beth carried the warm water to the stand in the corner
    and washed at the basin.
    She cast the maid a surreptitious glance from the corner of her eye, feeling strange that
    someone had come to clean up for her. Of course, her mother had shared stories of her
    own childhood, when she had lived in a house with many workers—scullery maids and
    parlor maids and footmen and coachmen—but Beth herself had never known such a life.
    The only servant her family had ever employed was a step-girl to wash the front stoop on
    Saturday mornings, and even that had been a luxury in a time long past. Certainly they
    could afford nothing of the kind now.
    Spurred by the early morning chill, Beth dressed quickly once the maid had left, then
    fixed her hair in two simple plaits. She worked deftly by touch and familiarity, twining
    and pinning one braid behind each ear. The style was easy and unadorned, and the best she
    had found for taming her wild and heavy curls.
    Taking up a clean handkerchief, she brought the cloth to her nose