My Lady's Trust [antikvár]

PrologueSoundlessly Laura crept through the dark hall. Having rehearsedand usedthe route before, she knew every carpet, chair and cupboard in the passageway, each twist of the twenty-nine steps down the servants' stair to the back door. Even were their old butler Hobbins and his wife not snoring in their room just off the corridor, the winter storm howling through the chimneys and rattling the shutters would cover the slight rustle of her movements.Just once she halted in her stealthy passage, outside the silent nursery. Leaning toward the door, she could almost catch a whiff of baby skin, feel the softness of flannel bunting, see the bright eyes and small waving hands. A bitter bleakness pierced her heart, beside whose chill the icy needles being hurled against the windows were mild as summer rain, and her step staggered.She bent over, gripping for support the handle of the room where a baby's gurgle no longer sounded. Nor ever would againnot flesh of her flesh.I promise you that, Jennie, she vowed. Making good on that vow could not ease the burden of guilt she carried,