Chapter Two
October 13th, 1805
Westcote Hall, Essex
Charlotte Appleby laid down her needle and flexed her fingers. The handkerchief was almost finished: her uncle’s initials intertwined, and beneath them a tiny red hand, the symbol of a baronet. As if it helps Uncle Neville blow his nose better to know he’s a baronet. She snorted under her breath.
The back of her neck prickled, as if someone had moved noiselessly to stand behind her.
Charlotte turned her head sharply.
No one stood behind her. The corner of the parlor was empty.
Charlotte rubbed her nape, where the skin still prickled faintly. A draft, that’s all it was. She flicked a glance at her aunt and cousin, seated beside the fireplace.
Lady Westcote thumbed through the Lady’s Monthly Museum, barely glancing at the pages, her
