Free Lord Satan by Judith Laik

stared at each other.
    “Do you suppose she is mute?” Libbetty said.
    Edwina shrugged. “How are we to refresh ourselves?”
    “I don’t know.”
    They burst into a fit of giggles. “This cannot be as dire
as it appears,” Libbetty said when they had sobered.
    They entered the room, leaving the door ajar. A perfectly
appointed lady’s bedchamber met their eyes. In the center stood a graceful
oaken four-poster bed with a white lace canopy and coverlet, and a matching
wardrobe in a corner. More lace hung at two tall, leaded glass windows, with
heavier drapes of pale blue brocade.
    Edwina stood staring around of the room, a frown crinkling
the porcelain perfection of her forehead.
    A bureau and a lady’s dressing table stood against the
opposite wall, with two curving chairs set nearby for callers watching the lady
at her toilette.
    Libbetty sat in the chair before the dressing table. She
fingered the casual disarray of articles laid there as though the owner might
return any time. Who was the lady?
    Rising, she walked about, picking up objects to inspect
bemusedly and setting them down again. She touched the white lace coverlet,
pushed to test the bed’s softness, and imagined herself the lady sleeping in
the elegant room. Lord Neil’s guest, his attentions showered upon her.
    What was she thinking? Lord Neil was a monster, a would-be
murderer. She supposed the tranquility of her life made it difficult to
imagine such evil, but she must never allow herself to forget what he really
was.
    Edwina stood stiffly at first, then began to circle the room
herself, touching the brocade draperies, the dark-grained wood of the wardrobe.
    A young chambermaid appeared with a pitcher of warm water
and poured it into the basin on the bureau, saying, “His lordship will call for
you shortly,” then departed.
    “Well, I guess they meant for us to do this,” Libbetty said,
dipping her fingers in the water, and splashing some on her face. She patted
herself dry with a towel, and Edwina followed suit.
    “Do you suppose we are ‘refreshed’?” Libbetty looked
doubtfully in the mirror, smoothing out her shabby riding habit, and regretting
her unfashionable appearance in her old brown silk bonnet. She and Edwina
giggled again, but the nervous strain showed in their voices.
    “I do not think I have ever been so frightened in my life,”
confessed Edwina.
    “I’m sure we will be fine.” Libbetty opened the door and
looked out. “Are we supposed to wait here until someone comes for us?” As she
spoke, Lord Neil opened a door farther along the corridor. Their eyes met, and
Libbetty had to restrain an impulse to back hastily into the room and slam the
door.
    The satirical smile appeared on his face. “Ah, Miss
Bishop. Are you ladies ready? Do come in.” He gave a sweeping bow indicating
the room behind him.
    Apprehensively, she stepped out of the room and walked
toward him, trying to peek around him, but his body blocked her view. Edwina
shrank behind her.
    “Well?” Lord Neil said.
    He was toying with them again, playing upon their fears.
Defiantly , Libbetty looped her arm through Edwina’s and marched past him, the
other girl in tow. Lord Neil stepped aside to let them enter.
    The chamber was furnished as a sitting room, part of the master
suite, originally a boudoir for the lady of the house. As no chatelaine lived
in The Castle, the room had been redecorated to masculine tastes. Drawn up
near the fireplace, a pair of lattice-back armchairs had smoking stands beside
them. A mahogany gaming table with two matching chairs stood in one corner of
the room.
    In contrast, the graceful, low-backed sofa on which the
room’s occupant reposed appeared appropriated from a lady’s apartment
elsewhere. A low table in front contained a chess game already begun.
    The marquess toyed idly with the ivory chess pieces, his
slender hands hinting of restless energy. Although his pallor betrayed his
recent illness, the handsome, mobile face