Free Secrets of Sloane House by Shelley Gray Page A

doom, Rosalind met her gaze. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know . . .”
    Veronica’s stormy gray gaze eclipsed her beautiful sky-blue gown with its exquisitely designed leg-of-mutton sleeves—sleeves that Rosalind herself had pressed to perfection just that morning!
    Pointing at the broken china littering the floor, Veronica glared. “Girl, don’t just sit there! My guests will be here any moment.”
    Dutifully, Rosalind bent and grasped more of the broken shards. Another piece sliced her palm. As a thin trail of blood oozed from the cut, she clumsily curved her hand upward. What would she do if blood stained the expensive Persian carpet?
    “Where is everyone? Abrams?” Veronica shouted. “Mother? Mother!”
    Mrs. Abrams came running, followed by Mrs. Sloane herself, who had obviously not gotten her hair restyled by either Emma or Lolly. When they surveyed the scene, they stopped abruptly.
    “Oh, Rosalind,” Mrs. Abrams murmured.
    Mrs. Sloane’s usually lovely expression turned pinched. Her eyes narrowed as they focused on her daughter. “Veronica, what is the meaning of all this commotion?”
    “This ‘commotion’ is the product of our newest housemaid.”
    Still crouched, Rosalind wished she could dig herself a holethrough the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, her voice quavering. “I turned quickly and must have jostled—”
    “You have just managed to break three Haviland teacups and saucers. I promise, you will pay for this,” Veronica said.
    “Yes, ma’am.” After all, what else could she say?
    However, Veronica continued on, her voice gaining speed and volume with each word. “You obviously have no care for anything of worth. You, with your direct looks and coarse accent. With your clumsy hands and inability to do even the simplest of tasks.”
    Each word felt like a slap in the face.
    As the harsh words continued, Rosalind carefully got to her feet, the broken pieces of china in her hands. Obviously, she was about to be fired. Then she would be let go without a reference, without pay, and with no way to get home. And even worse? There would be no way to continue the search for her sister.
    As Veronica drew breath, apparently preparing to deliver yet another vindictive diatribe, Mrs. Sloane stepped forward. “That is more than enough, Veronica.” Turning to Rosalind, the lady softened her expression. “Oh my dear. Look at you, you’re bleeding.” After handing the broken shards to Mrs. Abrams, she gripped Rosalind’s elbow and walked her toward the doorway. “Come now, let’s let someone help you before you get hurt worse. Abrams—”
    “Mother, she broke three cups and saucers,” Veronica interrupted in a shrill voice. “Of the Haviland.”
    “It is only china, darling.”
    Veronica’s cheeks burned red. “But—”
    “And you’ve broken more in fits of rage than any of us can count,” Douglass interjected as he joined them, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Really, Veronica. You’d think she broke your heart.”
    Still holding Rosalind’s elbow, Mrs. Sloane sighed in relief.“Douglass, thank goodness you’re here. Please help your sister greet her guests while I help . . .” Her voice faltered.
    “I’m Rosalind, ma’am.”
    “Yes. While I help Rosalind.”
    Veronica’s look was pure venom. “Mother, she doesn’t need your help. She needs to be fired.”
    “For a couple of broken teacups?” Douglass drawled. “Surely even you can’t be that heartless, sister.”
    Jerome arrived and helped Mrs. Abrams efficiently pick up the remaining shards of china and set everything to rights. Still standing next to Mrs. Sloane, Rosalind knew she was on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, madam,” she murmured. “I’m not sure what happened.”
    Mrs. Sloane clucked. “Don’t distress yourself any further. As I said, it’s only china. Now, go on to the kitchen and have Cook tend to you.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. I really am so sorry.” Before she