Karen Robards - Amanda Rose

“You’d better take your clothes off,” she said, fighting hard to sound matter-of-fact. He made a dismissive gesture. “Too tired… later,” he muttered, and closed his eyes. Amanda hesitated, then, not knowing what else to do, spread the blanket over him, carefully tucking it in about his shoulders and legs. He didn’t move.

“I have to go now,” she said. “If the sisters miss me, they’ll ask all kinds of questions and I’m not a very good liar. I won’t be able to come back until tonight, when everyone’s in bed. I’ll bring you some food then. I’m sorry I can’t do more for you now, but…”

He nodded without opening his eyes. Amanda hovered for a moment, staring at him helplessly. There really wasn’t anything more she could do.

“You’ll stay right here, won’t you?” she felt impelled to ask. “You won’t try to go anywhere? You’ll be perfectly safe here. No one comes here anymore but me.”

“Where would I go?” he muttered, and Amanda bit her lip at the desolation she thought she detected in his voice.

“I’ll leave you the candle,” she said softly, standing up. He nodded again, weakly. Amanda looked at him a moment longer, hating to leave him in such a condition, then shook her head. She had to get back to her room…

She almost made it. Without incident, she went through the trapdoor, across both cellars, and up five flights of stairs to the very top of the turret, where her bedroom perched in solitary splendor. The sun was full risen and the nuns must be risen, too. It was not until she actually had her hand on the latch of her chamber door that the voice spoke behind her.

“Where have you been?”

Amanda jumped as if the voice had bitten her, then whirled about. The girl on the stairs below her jumped, too, and had to clutch the oak bannister to keep her balance.

“Oh, Susan, you almost scared me to death,” Amanda gasped, her hand pressed to her frantically pounding heart as she stared at her closest friend. Lady Susan Hartwood was a pretty, dark-haired girl cursed with Amanda’s own lack of inches, but compensated with a pleasingly plump body that made her appear several years older than her actual age of nineteen. She had been a resident of the convent for more than two years now, having been banished from the bosom of her family-and the eyes and, the family hoped, the memories of the denizens of the polite world-after she had had the misfortune to be raped by a gang of highwaymen while on her way to a weekend house party scant weeks after her comeout. From what she had told Amanda-and Amanda believed her, for Susan was not the type to tell a self-serving lie-the fact that she was blameless hadn’t seemed to matter to her family. Her father, the Earl of Kidd, had blamed his daughter for the attack that had taken her virginity; he could no longer bear to have her in his house or to hear her name mentioned. Susan had told her that the Earl and Countess of Kidd felt that it would be best for everyone concerned-except, perhaps, Susan-if their disgraced daughter took holy vows and spent the rest of her life behind the convent’s high walls.

Amanda knew that Susan was profoundly unhappy at that prospect-she had not the least vocation to be a nun-but what else was there for her to do? as Susan frequently asked. Without her family’s support, Susan had no money and nowhere to go. Her eventual fate if she left the protection of the convent would be too hideous to contemplate. Amanda sympathized strongly with Susan’s predicament because it was similar to her own, and the two had become fast friends. Over the years, Amanda had grown to love the other girl like a sister.

“Well?” Susan interrupted her musings impatiently. Then, looking behind her down the narrow stairs, added under her breath, “We’d better get inside. Quickly.”

Amanda opened the door and Susan followed her. After closing it behind them, Amanda crossed to the utilitarian washstand that stood against one wall. She had to do something about her appearance before one of the sisters saw her…

“ Amanda, ” Susan cried, exasperated, and when Amanda turned from sluicing her face with water to eye her blankly, she repeated in a long-suffering tone, “I asked you where you’ve been.”

“Just… walking in the grounds.” Amanda decided in that split second that she would tell no one-not even Susan, whom she knew could be trusted implicitly-about the fantastic events of the previous two hours. For one thing, she was fully aware that she held Matthew Grayson’s life in her hands; she could not jeopardize his safety by letting her tongue wag too freely. For another, although Amanda was not sure of the penalty for concealing an escaped murderer, she was pretty certain it would be severe, to say nothing of the social disgrace that would inevitably accompany discovery. She didn’t want to bring any more of that down on Susan’s undeserving head. Susan had had enough trouble of that kind already. And there was Matthew Grayson himself; he had killed before and, except for his promise, what guarantee did she have that he wouldn’t do so again? She would be no friend if she exposed Susan to a murderer, and one whose wits tended to wander…

“Oh, really?” Susan, who knew her pretty well, looked politely disbelieving. Amanda could feel her cheeks coloring-blushing was the curse of the fair-skinned-but she doggedly returned Susan’s look. “Well, if you don’t choose to tell me…”

“How did you know I was gone?” Amanda asked, hoping to distract her friend, who tended to be scatterbrained at times.

“Oh, Sister Boniface is looking for you.” Susan threw a scared look over her shoulder at the closed door. “When you weren’t in your room, she came to mine to see if you were with me. I told her you’d probably gone down to the library to get a book. I think that’s where she is now. What are you going to tell her?”

Amanda felt her heart sink. Sister Boniface was still her nemesis. Charged with maintaining discipline among the convent’s pupils, Sister took her duties seriously. The girls had dealings with her only when they were in trouble, which meant that Amanda knew her rather well. Before she could work out a plausible answer-obviously her tale of a predawn walk in the convent’s nearly nonexistent grounds was not going to do, if even gentle Susan did not believe her-a sharp rap sounded at the door. Both girls jumped and swung alarmed looks toward the door; it was opened with regal disregard for the privacy of anyone within. The tall, thin figure of Sister Boniface stood looking down her rather long and bony nose at them. A simple crucifix was held in her hands, and a severe frown was on her face, lending even more remoteness to a countenance that was unapproachable at best.

“Amanda,” she said sternly, her eyes passing over Susan to fix on the primary object of her displeasure. “I have been looking for you for the past half hour. Would you care to tell me where you have been?”

“Did you want me for anything special, Sister?” Amanda asked, desperately hoping that the question would sidetrack the nun while she thought of a believable tale. Sister Boniface, however, was made of sterner stuff than Susan-and Amanda’s brain traitorously refused to function.

“Certainly I wanted you for a particular reason.” Sister Boniface sniffed. Righteous indignation added a trace of pink to cheeks that were ordinarily as white as her whimple. “I would hardly seek you out otherwise. But we stray from the point: I want to know where you have been. At once, if you please.”

Amanda knew there was no help for it. She would have to lie, and Sister Boniface, who was nobody’s fool, would know it. But she had no choice.