A Lady in Hiding by Amy Corwin Page B

surely—“
    “But surely I should do what ? What would happen to Miss Sarah Sanderson if she was left orphaned? Would you have me go to the workhouse? Or should I walk the streets, perhaps, like all the other women who make their living from the feather-bed jig?”
    “That is not what I—”
    “Of course not. But it’s much easier to be a nine-year-old boy than an eleven-year-old girl. Oddly enough, they’re built along such similar lines that there’s hardly a hair’s difference.”
    He tried to place his hand over her fists. She shook him off.
    “I understand why you did it, but you must realize you can’t keep this up,” he said. “Not much longer. You’re a woman now, whether it’s convenient to you, or not. And you’re not a poor orphan without resources. You’re the daughter of the Marquess of Longmoor.”
    “I can’t inherit. All the property is entailed. The house is burned, the contents gone. There’s nothing there to rely on. Nothing but my wits and my own two hands.”
    “But surely—“
    “My family is dead. There is nothing left. Leave it be.” Her voice was hard and resolute, as if she had long ago come to terms with the hopelessness of her terrible situation.
    He hesitated, thinking about the Archers. They might take her in, but to what end? If they had indeed known about the fire in advance and managed to be gone at the crucial time, could they be trusted to care for their niece? There was also Archer’s peculiar method of protecting Sanderson. Flinging full jugs of water out the window could kill a person just as easily as a bullet.
    And maybe that was what he intended.
    There was no doubt in William’s mind that Archer was sharp-witted and an opportunist. He would not hesitate to take advantage of any opening offered to him.
    The hackney coach slowed and came to a gradual halt. William glanced out the window. They were in front of Second Sons. He pushed open the door and flipped a few coins to the driver before helping Sarah alight from the coach.
    She stood there as if dazed, staring at him with huge gray eyes. Before she could turn and head for her boarding house, William grabbed her upper arm and guided her up the steps into Second Sons.
    The door opened as they reached the top stair. Sotheby stood there, mouth agape.
    “Sir!” His eyes took in William’s lack of a cravat and his wrinkled blue coat. “Sir!”
    “Breakfast in my office in ten minutes,” William ordered, sauntering past with Sarah in tow.
    She tried to pull away, but every time she jerked her arm, she groaned and closed her eyes. Finally, she just let him lead her into his office and push her down into the very same chair she had occupied two days previously.
    William went around his large desk. He tugged at the curtains to make sure they were closed to keep the light out of her eyes before he took his own seat. Clasping his hands in front of him, he eyed Sarah.
    Where to begin?

Chapter Seven
    Her head was surely going to explode. Sarah glanced at Mr. Trenchard, her eyes watering with pain. She felt confused and couldn’t seem to think properly. Her belly twisted hollowly. A throbbing headache pounded with each heart beat until she wished her heart would simply stop.
    And yet, despite her physical discomfort, all she could think about was the rent she owed Mrs. Pochard. And finishing that garden wall.
    The thought of bending down to pick up a brick made her swallow convulsively.
    Nonsense . She wasn’t a baby any more. She had to do it. The headache would fade as the day progressed.
    Opening one eye, she realized Mr. Trenchard had closed the drapes, leaving the room in blessed darkness. The sight of the rising sun’s sparkling light made her want to toss up what little remained in her stomach.
    “You haven’t taken any food, or drink, since yesterday,” Mr. Trenchard said.
    His voice slammed painfully against her ears, even though she could tell he was trying to speak softly. Before she replied, his