Unlaced Corset Read Online Free Page A

breathed, Mary tried to think. If there was something going on, then this was the final coup de grace. What's more, she realized as a pit opened up in her stomach, there would be no escape. Not for a young woman, alone and unarmed.
    She began going, in her mind, what her options were. The servants seemed to be gone, arranging for her to be left alone for some nefarious purpose. The new man, the "steward"—or perhaps "assassin"—was the only question in her mind. He was not part of the house's regular staff. And if he were still around, then he would be the instrument of her destruction. Of that much, she was certain.
    She took a deep breath to steady herself and closed her eyes. She folded her hands in prayer, and for a long moment prayed to Holy Mary for her protection. She touched her breast a moment, and then began the long, perhaps final, climb up the stairs to the main floor.
    The house was silent save for the sound of her shoes, clicking sharply on the floor, and with the absolute quiet it seemed to echo throughout. The sound was lonely and seemed to create a feeling of finality, one that was mirrored in Mary's heart.
    At last she stood at the study door. It was closed, but when she pressed her ear against it, she heard nothing. No scratching of a pen, no one walking back and forth inside, no shuffling of papers. Finally, she knocked lightly; if she was quiet enough, she hoped, nobody would answer.
    But after a long moment, as she held her breath, the door did open.
    A big man in a waistcoat, with close-cropped hair, broad shoulders, and strong, attractive features stood behind it. He had a reproachful look on his face as he looked down at Mary.
    "Where has everyone gone? What have you done with Davis and Rebecca?"
    He inhaled a deep breath through his nose and the square posture of his shoulders softened slightly.
    "I've sent them home, Miss Geis."
    Mary recoiled as if she'd been slapped. He didn't attack her outright, and his hands were empty. If he were an assassin, he ought to get it over with. Her only hope, if it could be called that, lay in continuing to feign ignorance.
    "Whatever for, Mr. Poole?"
    "They couldn't be kept, Miss."
    Mary bit her tongue to keep from speaking too soon. She needed to think. He was big enough to snap her in half without thinking. Like a twig for kindling.
    How much longer could the charade go on for? She was tired. Tired of the fear, tired of the lies. She closed her eyes for a moment. What right did he have to do any of this? Her face twisted in anger, and she slapped him with the full weight of her body.
    James made no effort to stop her. Her hand stung, she thought, more than his face appeared to. She slapped him again, with her other hand.
    "Well," she said, defiant. "Do your worst."
    James Poole looked at her for a moment, confused. He looked at her face, and then over her shoulder. Then he frowned.
    "If that's all, ma'am. I need to get back to work."
    Mary looked up at him, her face angrier and angrier.
    "Very well, then."
    She wouldn't give him the satisfaction, she decided. Whatever happened now, she wouldn't be able to stop. But if he weren't going to admit to it, then she wouldn't reveal that she knew. The door was closing as she thought of one last, closing jibe.
    "And Mr. Poole?"
    The door stopped, and opened up once again. James Poole stood on the other side, filling the door frame and obscuring her view of the room inside.
    "Yes, ma'am?"
    "Don't ever do anything of this sort without my express permission again. Is that clear?"
    "I apologize, ma'am. It won't happen again."
    "Good," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.
    Why did he torture her like this? What motive could he have? She was right there before him, and if he were going to do her harm, that had been as good an opportunity as one could hope for.
    If he hadn't, though, then why had he been so secretive and so unilateral in dismissing her household servants?
    It made no sense. But Mary knew one thing.