The Wrong Girl (Freak House) by C.J. Archer Read Free Book Online Page B

plainly dressed gentleman was a detective inspector."
    I set the napkin down and met those all-seeing green eyes. "Were they looking for me?"
    "No." Was it my imagination, or did sympathy flicker across his face? "Someone broke in last night. Some of August's papers were stolen, and he's in a bit of a state about it. August in a state is not a pretty sight."
    "What sort of papers?"
    "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. The inspector was called for this morning, and he and his constable asked some questions, took some notes and generally poked about. The only thing they achieved was making an inconvenience of themselves. They even failed to question all the staff, which means they missed a vital clue."
    "What clue?"
    "The imprint of a muddy boot was left on the floor in the scullery."
    "How thrilling," Sylvia said. "Just like in a novel."
    That earned another glare from Jack. "I measured it and sketched the sole pattern. I'll ride into Harborough to deliver it to the inspector."
    "Are you certain the boot doesn't belong to one of the staff?"
    "It was larger than mine or any of the staff."
    To think, the authorities had been to Frakingham, and I'd missed them! I could have thrown myself upon their mercy and pleaded my case. Would they have taken my word over Langley's? I didn't know, but it galled that I had missed the opportunity to try.
    "I'm sorry, Violet," Jack said. "I wanted to begin training today."
    "Never mind." Another daring plan had already begun to form. I was desperate enough to carry it out too, despite the fear almost overriding my determination. Almost, but not quite.
    "Just be sure not to have an episode in my absence. Or try to escape."
    "I'll try not to, but alas I may not be able to control myself."
    There was that twist of his mouth again, that almost smile. "Syl, will you be all right?"
    "Of course."
    "Tommy is here if you need anything."
    I would have asked what he meant by that, but he excused himself and left. So I asked Sylvia instead. "Why did he mention Tommy?"
    "I couldn't say."
    "Is your footman going to restrain me if I try to leave?"
    "Of course not."
    I finished my breakfast and when I got up, she quickly rose too, toppling her embroidery hoop to the floor.
    "I only wish to look out the window," I said. She sat again, her relief obvious.
    I stood by the bay window and watched Jack ride down the drive on horseback. He was unaccompanied, which I thought a little unwise until I remembered he could set a man on fire if he found himself in trouble. He turned back suddenly as if he realized I'd been watching, and our gazes locked. He lifted his hand, and I thought he was about to wave, then he gathered up the reins again and turned away. The horse broke into a gallop and Jack was soon gone from sight.
    Now all I had to do was avoid Tommy and I would be free.
    I waited until he had removed my breakfast dishes and been gone for some time before yawning. Sylvia didn't notice, so intent was she on her sewing. I yawned again and stretched.
    "Still tired?" she said, looking up.
    "I think I'll retreat to my room for a rest."
    "Of course. I'll wake you for luncheon."
    "I hope you don't mind, but I won't be joining you. Breakfast was quite sufficient to see me through the rest of the day."
    Sylvia's face fell a little. "Oh. It'll just be me then."
    I almost felt sorry for her, but her loneliness was not my concern. I left her and headed toward the staircase. Instead of going up, however, I walked straight past and through an arch that led to a short corridor and a number of closed doors. I bypassed those and headed along another corridor before reaching what appeared to be a door leading outside.
    I glanced behind me. All silent. No one followed. I pushed the door open and found myself in an empty, graveled courtyard bordered on three sides by the house. I paused. Listened. Still nothing.
    I half walked, half ran across the courtyard, looking left and right and back over my shoulder. The wind battered at my