The Pleasure Trap by Elizabeth Thornton Page A

to move. Ears straining, she listened. At the very least she should hear Dexter whining to get out. There was nothing, not even the sound of his breathing.
    The minutes dragged by. She had to talk herself into moving. In all likelihood, Dexter was devouring something one of the kitchen maids had inadvertently left out or something he’d pilfered from the slop pail, or perhaps one of the servants was still up, or…or…
    The woman who had run away from Bedlam.
    She went down the stairs as silently as she could manage and entered the kitchen. There was some light to guide her, a soft glow from the embers in the grate, but there was no sign of Dexter or anyone else. She lost no time in lighting her candle from the embers, then she turned and surveyed the room. Everything was just as it should be.
    She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t want to call Dexter to her. The image of the runaway from Bedlam had become so fixed in her mind that her one aim was to do nothing that would frighten her off.
    With the stealth of a cat, she flitted from room to room and found them in the laundry room. Dexter saw Eve first and gave a little whine, but he didn’t leave the woman’s side. She was huddled against the big copper boiler that heated water from morning till night for the exhaustive demands of Lady Sayers’s household.
    When the woman saw Eve, she jumped up. Her eyes were wide with alarm; her breathing was shallow and strained. In one hand, she held a hunk of bread.
    “Don’t be afraid.” Eve’s voice was as gentle and as unthreatening as she could make it. “I won’t hurt you or tell anyone you’re here.”
    Her words seemed to make no impression. The eyes were still wide with fear.
She’s only a girl,
Eve thought, and she took in the threadbare gown mired in mud and the hair tangled with leaves and burrs. Her feet were bare and scratched.
    She looked into those fear-bright eyes. “You’ve made friends with my dog. I want to be your friend, too.”
    She didn’t know where the soothing words were coming from, but they weren’t having an effect. “My name is Eve,” she went on. “What’s yours?”
    No response, but the girl’s eyes darted to the door behind Eve, and Eve wondered whether she was barring the girl’s only way out or whether the girl was afraid there was someone with her.
    “I’m all alone,” she said. “Just Dexter and me.”
    The girl was racked with shivers. Eve put down her candle, stripped off her coat, and draped it over the back of a chair. “Take my coat,” she said. “It will keep you warm. I promise, I won’t keep you here or tell anyone where you are. If you want to leave, you can go, but at least take my coat.” She removed her shawl, then her boots, and set them on the chair. “These are for you,” she said.
    The girl’s panic seemed to have died down, but she was still poised for flight. “You must be hungry,” said Eve. “I’ll go to the pantry and get you something to eat. Do you like cheese? Then we’ll talk about what we’re going to do. I’d like to send you to my home in Henley—” She broke off and shook her head. She was rattling on before she’d taken stock of the situation. This girl had escaped from Bedlam. She could be dangerous. For all Eve knew, she might well be violent. Eve didn’t relish the thought of grappling with a madwoman.
    But something else was at work in her. She was roused by her mother’s memory tonight and could hear Antonia’s voice telling her to trust her instincts.
    When in doubt, trust your instincts, Eve.
    That was how she’d chosen her first pony, though he’d looked like the runt of the stock. But Ginger had proved his mettle by winning ribbon after ribbon at every fair they’d visited.
    Trust your instincts, Eve.
She did, but Dexter’s presence was an added bonus. Dexter would protect her to the death if need be.
    The girl’s mouth worked. “Nell.”
    Oh, ye of little faith,
thought Eve, and smiled. “Is that your