England, 1836

The countess was shrieking again.

Addie couldn't quite be certain if the woman's shrieks were directed at her, but she might wager it likely. Addie was her most frequent target, after all. And it was for that precise reason that she had learned to block out the high-pitched commands. They were simply intolerable. Lady Bennett sounded like a dying animal on most days, the way her voice turned shrill on the final uptick of words.

"Addie!"

This time the countess' voice was so sharp that Addie felt her spine straighten in response.

She closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself as Lady Bennett's footsteps drew nearer. Addie took a deep breath, and she heard her mother's soothing voice instead. It was but a memory, reminding her to stand tall, stand straight. Balance had always been key. Hair pins would only do so much to keep her crown upon her head. One's posture must do the work to keep it from falling down.

Addie listened. She stood straight. Her posture was impeccable as Lady Bennett flew into the room. But the only crown upon Addie's head was one made of sweat. Golden jewels and power and position were a mere dream now.

More of the countess' shrieking drew Addie's attention, and she glared at the back of Lady Bennett's head as the woman slid into her spot in front of the vanity.

Honestly, Addie could handle the long hours of work as a lady's maid. She could handle the intense physical labor of carrying bucket after bucket of hot water up two flights of stairs to draw a bath, and she could handle the invisibility of being a servant in an upper-class home. But what Addie could not handle any more of was that woman.

"I am waiting," Lady Bennett snapped, tapping her fingers on the vanity.

"Coming, my lady." Addie's voice and movements were brisk as she ran about Lady Bennett's private chambers to collect the gown, jewelry, and ribbons that the countess had requested as part of her evening ensemble.

"Addie." Lady Bennett sniffed, her nose high in the air as she said, "These things should be set out before I even walk into the room."

The woman's face pinched emphatically with disapproval as she stared back at Addie through the mirror on the vanity. Lady Bennett would be an attractive older woman if only she could be convinced to smile on occasion.

"I am sorry, my lady. I was finishing the polish on the silver that you asked me to do not but an hour ago," Addie attempted to explain, even though she knew it would be in vain.

And it was.

More shrieking came from Lady Bennett about how the polishing should have been completed yesterday, and Addie withheld the urge to roll her eyes. It was an unladylike habit that she'd picked up from the other servants, one that would undoubtedly make her mother turn in her grave.

Addie chose to keep her mouth shut and her eyes forward, however. She had polished the silver yesterday. But upon explaining that to the countess, the woman had insisted that it did not have the bright sparkle it should. Addie wished to say that it was not the polish of the silver, but rather the quality, that caused the lackluster sheen. If Lady Bennett wanted her silver to sparkle, she would have to buy better silver.

Addie settled behind her employer and began to twist and pull her hair into a chignon. It was not an easy task, as the countess had coarse hair with all the shine of her beloved silver. However, Addie barely heard Lady Bennett as she complained throughout the process. Once she fashioned the lady's hair in a style that indeed resembled a chignon, Addie rushed to help her into an evening dress of sage green. If Addie had anything nice to say about the countess, it was that she had the most beautiful gowns. It made Addie ache as she remembered all of the fine silks and satins she had worn before the accident.

Before Addie had been ripped from her family and tossed into the frosty winter night.

Before she had cried icy tears, following the trail of blood in the snow.

Before she had become Addie. Just Addie. A broken-hearted maid, working until she was bone-tired because the physical ache distracted her from the emotional one.

When the countess was finished getting ready for their evening guest, Addie hustled down the stairs to help in the kitchen. The home of Lord and Lady Bennett was grossly understaffed—not that they couldn't afford more help. They simply refused to believe that their staff was overworked, meaning that Addie's job never ended.

"Addie!" Liza, a young maid with bouncy blonde curls, greeted her as she walked into the kitchen. "How is her ladyship this evening?"

Liza's eyes were sparkling with laughter when she asked the question. Liza was more than aware that Lady Bennett likely hadn't had an agreeable evening with her lady's maid since she'd worn pressed pinafores and run about the nursery.

"You'd think that the king himself was coming with the fuss she was making over her hair," Addie said, barely managing to refrain from rolling her eyes. Again.

Liza giggled in that adorable way she so often did. "She will never be happy with her hair. She wants it to look like yours, I'd reckon, which it never will!"

Addie glanced at an escaping lock of brown hair falling over her shoulder and sighed. "I would much rather have your hair, Liza. It is such a lovely color of honey."

"The color is quite fine," Liza agreed. "But I do wish it wouldn't become so frizzy in the heat of the kitchens."

Addie smiled in response. "And how is it going down here?"

"You mean besides being as hot as hell itself?" Liza joked. "Cook says the roasted lamb will be done soon."

With a nod, Addie said, "Very well. Lady Bennett does not enjoy having to linger with guests long before dinner. She says it allows too much opportunity for Lord Bennett to overindulge."

Liza gave her friend a knowing look but did not comment further on the earl's drinking habits. "Who is attending dinner? I assume it is not, in fact, the king?"

The innocent question gave Addie the unwelcome image of her uncle. She imagined his insidious eyes as he walked through the front doors of the Bennett household. He'd sit in the parlor, crossing his overly long legs and peering at her above his spectacles, seeing through her disguise. She shuddered.

If he found out she was here...Addie did not even dare think about that. Her brown wig would do very little to hide her from the cunning king if he knew where to look.

Liza flashed her a curious glance. However, though Addie loved her friend, she could never tell her what she had been thinking. She could never say who she really was.

Addie managed to squawk out, "Lord Hawthorne."

Liza wrinkled her nose. "Now I understand the look you were making. The sooner his lordship leaves, the better," she mumbled under her breath.

That caused Addie to chuckle, having to agree.

When the lamb finished cooking, Addie and Liza carried the lavish plates up for serving in the dining room. Addie carefully set a steaming plate before Lord Bennett. She then glanced up in time to see Liza lowering an entree in front of Lord Hawthorne while the lord simultaneously raised his drink, presumably to take a sip.

Addie almost cried out in warning, but she was too late. She only had time to grit her teeth nervously at the sight of her friend and Lord Hawthorne colliding in a horrific crash.

Addie froze, watching the events unfold. Wine spilled, running in blood-colored rivulets down Lord Hawthorne's canary yellow jacket, making him look like some sort of parrot. Addie could not get the imagery out of her head as he began to stutter, "What the—"

Turning her attention to the lamb, Addie saw it was strewn across the linens on the table. Liza's expression was one of pure terror as she hastily picked at the pieces while also trying to dab at the wine. Addie knew she should help, but for some reason she couldn't move as Lord Hawthorne's face turned the same color as the spilled drink, fury etched in his features.

"Stupid girl!" Lord Hawthorne raged, his mouth curling into a sneer as he glared at her. "Were you not watching what you were doing?"

The same fury Addie saw in Lord Hawthorne began to rise in her. He was a ridiculous excuse for a man, and Liza most certainly did not deserve to be treated that way. Not when it had been just as much his fault as hers. And it was in that moment that the incredible control Addie had been harnessing for the past two years broke.

"No more than you," Addie jeered—yes, jeered—back, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She clapped her hand over her mouth, unable to say anything to even attempt to correct her mistake. Unlike Liza, who was muttering her apologies repeatedly across the table, Addie couldn't find it in her to act sorry for the wretched man. Or even herself. Instead, she resigned herself to her fate and sat back to watch the chaos unfold.

"How dare you." Lord Hawthorne's eyes narrowed in her direction as he stood slowly. Then he swept his murderous expression from Addie to her employers. "Your servants are insolent and careless!" His spit flew across the table, hitting Addie's cheek. She barely flinched.

She was, of course, too preoccupied with thinking about how she was most certainly out of a job.

Sure enough, not two hours later, Addie walked out onto the dirty streets, her shoes immediately sinking in the mud that accompanied the days of rain that London had seen. She sighed. At least the air was warm yet with the remnants of summer. A small bag thumped against her side, but there was nothing of consequence that Addie owned except for her mother's locket hanging beneath her dress.

Addie knew it was likely worth more than she had made in the last year, but she couldn't bring herself to part with it. It was fashioned almost entirely of gold except for the very middle of the heart where a small piece of rose quartz sat. Tonight, the weight of it was substantial around her neck.

Unsure of where to go, she began to walk, letting her thoughts lead her away from her home of the past two years. It had been barely agreeable to live with Lord and Lady Bennett, but they had given her a job and a place to live.

Her only happiness at the moment was gleaned from the fact that Liza had been able to keep her position with the earl and countess. Addie had begged on her behalf that Liza's mistake was but a simple one, and the other maid had profusely apologized.

Addie, alternatively, hadn't bothered. She hadn't been able to choke the words out.

Lost in thought, Addie forgot to watch where she was walking, and her foot plunged into a particularly deep puddle where a few cobblestones must have been missing. She lurched forward, caught off balance by the uneven street, and her ankle twisted at the movement.

With a cry of pain, Addie hopped to the side of the street, swearing beneath her breath. She'd picked up new vocabulary working in the Bennett kitchens. But it was challenging not to curse at the moment; every movement sent needles of discomfort through her leg. Well, discomfort was likely a mild way of putting it.

It hurt like hell.

Leaning against an exposed brick wall that appeared to be the exterior of a pub, Addie inspected her injury, pulling her stockings down to examine the already swelling flesh. She swore once more.

At the clipping sound of horses' hooves, Addie glanced up, and she did so just in time to receive a face full of grime. It splashed from the spinning wheels of an oncoming carriage, coating her with a layer of something mightily pungent.

To her despair, the sleek carriage then stopped several paces forward, and a man's head popped out of the door. He had a mop of dirty blonde hair, a pronounced jaw that hinted at a layer of unfashionable scruff, and eyes of a piercing green color. Undeniably handsome, though perhaps less than perfectly groomed, he looked directly at her.

"Terribly sorry for the dirt, miss," he called back to her.

She peered down at her hands and arms, splattered with the street's filth.

"Yes, it is unfortunate, isn't it?" She couldn't find it in herself to honestly care anymore. What else could possibly go wrong tonight?

The man watched her quizzically, unsure of what to make of her response. "You really should not be out in St. Giles at this time of night, if you do not mind my saying so," he said. Authority was easily detected in his voice. But Addie did not care about that either.

"I certainly do mind you saying so," Addie replied. Although now that she surveyed her surroundings, she did not recognize the area. She did, however, recognize the smell as being distinctly not Mayfair. Addie reckoned with alarm that she must be nearing the rookery.

Regardless, Addie thought that this man certainly did not need to know just how out of her element she was. "I can assure you, my lord, that I am perfectly fine as I am," she said. "Please do not concern yourself on my behalf." Addie made a well-educated guess that the man was titled, though she didn't recognize his face. She would have remembered that face.

He accepted her assumption without correction and regarded her curiously. "You have remarkably clear diction, miss. What is your station?"

Addie shuffled her feet uncomfortably but then winced at the pain the movement brought. "That is neither here nor there, my lord." Her words came out stronger than she felt.

"Excuse me?" His brows rose. And then he added, "Are you quite alright?"

"Was I unclear? I believe I am implying that it is not your business."

Addie was prepared for the aristocrat to be affronted, but he merely seemed amused. "Be that as it may," he said with a tilted grin, "I cannot leave a young woman of your nature alone in St. Giles without first ensuring her safety. While your words are strong, your expression indicates something entirely different."

Addie huffed, hating that he could see through her that easily. "Of my nature? And what nature is that?"

"Surely you are being facetious." The man's amused face quickly became exasperated. "Must you ask so many questions?"

Addie gave a sharp laugh. "You are the one demanding answers to questions I do not wish to answer, my lord!"

His eyes softened at that, making Addie feel warm inside. He looked warm as he said, "I am merely trying to be a gentleman."

And then the lord surprised her yet again, getting out of his carriage to let his own feet smash down into the mud. The whole act was done in a seamless, swinging motion, making him appear more animal than man.

"Let me introduce myself. I am the Duke of Kingfield." He smiled and took a step toward her. His head—that ridiculously attractive head—tilted to the side. And then he spoke, and Addie knew she was not going to escape this man. "What is your name?" he asked.

I am Princess Adelaide, heir to England's throne and the rightful queen of the very soil you are standing upon, the soil you have splattered me with.

She shook her head, ridding herself of the errant thoughts. Squaring her shoulders, she looked the duke in his piercing green eyes and said, "My name is Addie, Your Grace." She swallowed. "Just Addie."