Free A Lady's Secret Weapon by Tracey Devlyn Page B

see them soon enough.”
    Sydney forced a sparkling smile. “Splendid!”
    “Good morning, Mrs. Henshaw,” a new voice called. “I see Mrs. Drummond is taking good care of you.”
    Sydney glanced up to find Abbingale’s matron standing in the doorway. “Indeed, she is, Mrs. Kingston.”
    “Mrs. Henshaw would like to know where we’re keeping the orphans, ma’am.”
    For some unknown reason, Sydney’s first inclination was to smile in response to the nurse’s snide statement. The woman had such a sour attitude that Sydney did not think sucking on a lemon would pucker her up any more. Why would anyone ever think it a good idea to place someone like her in an authoritative position over impressionable young children? A shudder ripped down the length of her spine just thinking about the lasting impact of this mean-spirited nurse.
    Sydney’s second inclination—and the one she settled on—was to give Mrs. Drummond a taste of her own intimidation. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and leveled her gaze on her nemesis. She topped it off with a beguiling smile so as not to be too obvious. The small shift in position gave her hulking frame even more height and the illusion of immense strength. When her sharp-tongued guide took a step closer to the matron, Sydney suppressed a knowing smirk. Her victory over the unkind nurse should not have pleased her quite so much. But it did. Oh, how it did.
    “During my last visit,” Sydney said, “I assumed the quiet meant the children were either outside playing or upstairs napping.” She swept her hand over the empty beds. “That does not seem to be the case today.”
    The matron’s smile was gentle. “We prefer to keep the boys’ minds occupied much of the day. Too much idleness can lead to wickedness.”
    “Is it not normal for young boys to be wicked?”
    “To a degree,” Matron said. “But with so many boys occupying a small space like Abbingale, we curtail their natural tendencies as much as possible.”
    “What occupies them so thoroughly that I do not even hear the hum of low voices?”
    “Walk with me, won’t you, Mrs. Henshaw?”
    “Of course.” Sydney followed the matron down a long, narrow corridor, which led to an even narrower staircase. They ascended the stairs, with Mrs. Kingston leading the way and Mrs. Drummond following behind Sydney.
    Shadows thickened and the air turned stale, as if fresh air had not entered the upper floors for months. Years, even.
    “Watch your step,” Mrs. Kingston warned, when they approached a small landing that led to another set of stairs. “Cassie has not made it up here yet to light a lamp.”
    Had Sydney not been looking ahead, she would have missed the faint halo of light spilling out onto the landing’s floor. No sooner had she squinted her eyes for a better look, then the light disappeared.
    Once she reached the landing, she could not locate a door or an opening of any kind. She saw nothing but a shadow-drenched wall. She hesitated, fighting a sudden urge to drop to her hands and knees and investigate the source of light.
    “Is something the matter, Mrs. Henshaw?”
    Tearing her gaze away, Sydney glanced up to find Mrs. Kingston studying her with an open yet slightly bewildered expression. She cursed beneath her breath. She knew better than to be so careless. If something was going on at Abbingale, one of these two women could be involved. Anything she saw here that was out of the ordinary, she had to be more circumspect in her interest. Now she would have to redouble her efforts as the wealthy twit.
    Ducking her head, she molded her features into a look of chagrin. “You will think me a silly goose.”
    “Not at all, ma’am. Did you see something of concern?”
    Sydney let out a nervous laugh. “Not really.” She waved her hand around. “I daresay if this landing had been properly lit, I would not have been reminded of my elderly Aunt Lucille’s house.”
    Matron stared at her for several silent