Free Diamonds & Deceit by Leila Rasheed Page A

yard, the doors open. Why was she never riding in a car like that, instead of standing watching them go past her?
    A man came out of the servants’ entrance. He carried a trunk and called out behind him, “One more, James.”
    Annie wondered who he was, then remembered. Mr. Templeton was clearly about to leave. This was his valet.
    “Off to London?” James said as he came out with the other suitcase.
    “Thanks. Yes, back to London.” The valet took it and put into the trunk of the car.
    “Wish I was,” James said with a short laugh.
    He headed back into the house. Annie stood where she was. A thought had struck her like a bolt of lightning: Wish I was.
    Her hand closed on Rose’s letter in the pocket of her apron. She needn’t stay here, needn’t resign herself to a life of the same old drudgery and being passed over for better things. She had friends in high places. Why on earth shouldn’t she go to London and become Rose’s maid?
    Her heart soared. She could see it now—the two of them riding off in motorcars to parties and dress fittings. Rose would make the best mistress, she was so kind and generous. It wouldn’t be like work at all. It would be like being a lady.
    She turned round and whisked back inside. She had enough saved for the train ticket. All she needed to do was hand her notice in, and she’d be away.

London
    Rose had expected to be in ecstasy at her first visit to the Royal Academy of Art’s Private View. It was one of the most exclusive events of the London season. An invitation to show at the Academy’s summer exhibition was jealously sought by every artist of note. But as she strolled with Sebastian through the halls of Burlington House, past dutiful landscapes and predictable portraits, she could not help but feel it all a little…dull.
    “The Academy’s lost its fire,” Sebastian commented, as if he had read her thoughts. “I feel I’ve seen this all a thousand times over.”
    “I’m glad you say that. I thought it was just my lack of taste,” Rose answered. She glanced around her. She had wondered if she would see Alexander Ross here. Or maybe she had hoped. Of course, there was no reason he would be visiting at the same time she was. There was no reason to suppose he would visit at all. Young men like him were generally more interested in hunting and punting than in art.
    She had danced with him twice more since the state ball and spoken to him in company. Their paths had crossed in the foyer of the opera house and the drawing rooms of important hostesses. This was the season, after all, and it was a small world. The intimacy of their first dance had never been repeated. He danced with other women, talked to other women, laughed with other women. And yet she couldn’t help believing that the smile he kept for her was warmer, more genuine, than the ones he gave to other people. More than once she had caught him looking at her, and each time he had smiled as if the sight of her gave him pleasure. It was pleasant, she thought, to have a friendly face among all the unfriendly ones.
    “Do look at those women,” Sebastian murmured with a gentle wave of his cane toward an elegant group gathered by the work of the latest society portraitist. “More interested in each other’s dresses than the pictures.” He sighed. “Somehow it all seems so disconnected from what’s happening outside the doors. To look at these pictures you’d think we were not living in an age of motorcars and trams and electric light.” He lowered his head as if a weight lay on his shoulders. “They don’t seem to see that everything has changed.”
    Rose glanced at him in concern. She sensed he was not his usual self, and knowing where he had been, she could guess why.
    “How is Oliver? Did you see him?” she asked. “What does the barrister think of his chances?”
    “Not much.”
    “I’m sorry.” She laid a gloved hand on his. “It was such a shock to all of us. Everyone will be sorry if