Chapter 1

      There was so much blood.

      Staring at the body on the floor, still, not moving, her heart was beating hard and her breath was shallow. She felt sick to her stomach and dizzy. Her legs were shaking so badly that she was afraid her knees would buckle and she wouldn't be able to get off the floor. The patrol would come and find her right here by the dead man.

      As she turned, white spots flashed before her eyes, then nothingness.

      Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking away the confusion. She felt hot, flushed. Unsure of why she was lying on a rug at the bottom of the stairs, she started to rise but noticed something in her hand, a candelabra. Everything came rushing back to her mind. She peered over her shoulder and saw first, a set of male legs in britches then, a torso. She wouldn't allow herself to look further to confirm that a man was on her floor.

      A man she had known for the last five years, a man she would have said was a friend or at least a confidant and advisor. Three years ago, her parents were killed in a carriage accident during a bad storm and this man had come into her life as an advocate who had already worked with her father. He became her support.

      Now, he was dead, at her hands.

      "I can't stay here." She stumbled to her feet as the sterling candleholder dropped from her limp fingers. Her fingers were just as numb and lifeless as the man behind her who had stained her family's carpet with the blood from his head. The soft thump of the metal, as it struck the carpet then bumped into her ankle, jolted her out of her reverie and into action.

      Rushing from the parlor through the archway, she dashed right up the wide stairs to the second floor. She raced down the hall and thundered into her room. At this moment, she wished she had not given Nellie the night off, or any of the servants, for that matter. However, he'd told her that he needed to speak to her urgently, that the matter was private and of extreme importance. Following his dictate, she'd let her few staff members take some time away from their nightly duties. Now, she needed help getting her belongs together.

      She turned left then right, trying to decide what to grab. First, she started for her trunk underneath her window seat, one of her favorite places to be in the house when her parents were living. She enjoyed sitting for hours sipping chocolate and pretending to read a book or write missives, but she would truly stare out onto the street and watch people and couples going by. After her parents had passed, she'd become one of those people passing by. There were parties a plenty for her to attend. Her best friend Margie Beechum threw the most fabulous soiree and afternoon teas, and at least one night a week, she had singers, or poets, or musicians over—both local and those renowned around the country. It was because Margie's husband was the Deputy Mayor and he had all sorts of connections.

      He was many years older than Margie, but she could come and go and shop as she pleased. There were no parents or older brother or solicitors governing what she could do. Just her husband, and Lord Beechum was a pile of mush when it came to Margie and her beautiful big blue eyes and bow mouth. Margie was buxom and all the boys in the schoolhouse had wanted her. She'd married rich instead of handsome. Margie had repeatedly talked about making a match for her with some of Lord's friends, many of whom were looking for a second or third wife.

      No, no, no. Elizabeth refused to settle for just anyone. Since she would have money after her next birthday, she could afford to wait. It was what the solicitor, Ronald Gerner, always told her. Until tonight.

      Biting into her nails, she tried not to think about how that same solicitor was now dead on the floor beneath her feet. Elizabeth ran back out of her room to the spare closet, where they kept the bigger trunks for long travel. Taking hold of one of them, she stooped awkwardly as she dragged it behind her toward her open door. Once she was back in her room, she flung it open on the floor, not wanting to take the time to lift the cumbersome object onto her bed. Grabbing armfuls of her dresses from her wardrobe, she dumped them into the maw of the trunk.

      Without any order or reason, everything she thought she could not live without went inside. She even tossed inside the Baxter mantle clock off her dresser that was her great-great-grandfather's. She'd always adored it. Her father had gotten it fixed for her thirteenth birthday because she loved it so much.

      When she flipped the lid of the trunk over the pile, she realized that all the items were bulging out of the side. How did Nellie do this?

      She opened it back up and attempted to stuff the things down, then, when she closed it again, she applied her body weight on top to try and help secure it. But that didn't work. When she started out of the room for a second trunk, her heart leaped at the knocking on the door downstairs.