Silas smiled at me; it was not a pleasant smile. "You have advanced quickly."
"Only from stable to library, sir. I hope to reach the breakfast room by Christmas."
Rowan coughed into his hand.
Silas's eyes sharpened. "You are amusing."
"Not intentionally to you."
"Careful, girl. Alderwick Hall can be unkind to servants who forget their place."
Rowan's voice dropped: "Miss Finch's place is where I ask her to stand. At present, that is here."
The room warmed around me—or perhaps my face did.
Silas bowed slightly. "As you wish. I came only to say Lord Wexham arrives tomorrow. He wants to discuss the canal shares. You may wish me to handle the meeting."
"Why?"
"Because negotiations are tiring in your condition."
"My mind is not in my legs," Rowan said.
Silas's jaw flexed. "Of course not."
After he left, I released a breath I had been holding. Rowan looked at me. "Breakfast room by Christmas?"
"A modest ambition."
"Aim higher. The music room is drafty but respectable."
"I will begin training."
He laughed softly. That sound had become dangerous—not because it was grand, but because it was small and real and seemed to belong partly to me. I had come to Alderwick to earn wages, not to notice the way a Duke's face changed when he forgot to be lonely. I told myself that every night. Every night, I believed it less.
The canal meeting gave us our first real clue. Lord Wexham arrived in a carriage large enough to house a family of smugglers. He was a red-faced man with white whiskers, a loud waistcoat, and the confidence of someone who had never been chased by geese. He entered the drawing room with Silas at his side and talked over Rowan as if paralysis had lowered the Duke's ears.
I was not meant to be present, but Bramble had demanded a spy from the stable. Bramble's thought reached me faintly, but clearly: Hide behind curtains. Humans always hide there and pretend curtains are walls.
So I became a maid carrying coal. Then I became a maid adjusting the firescreen. Then I became, for ten excellent minutes, a woman behind a curtain with a coal scuttle and no dignity.
Lord Wexham said, "Your cousin assures me the shares may be transferred despite your sad incapacity."
Rowan's voice remained cool. "My sad incapacity has not signed anything."
Silas chuckled. "Rowan, we discussed this. Wexham can manage the Northern Canal works better than you can from a chair."
"Did we discuss it? I recall you discussing it near me."
Behind the curtain, I grinned.
Wexham huffed. "Alderwick cannot delay. Investors dislike weakness."
"Then they must avoid mirrors," Rowan said.