Three deep, ragged breaths later, she started inching down the stairs. Mama and Uncle Peter’s voices were muffled now, and she thought it likely they had stepped out onto the terrace that led into the rose garden. If so, she could cross the hall in relative safety and cut through the dining room to the kitchen and take the back stairs to get back to the boys.
Maybe she’d sneak a few honeycakes while she was there. Maybe.
As she stepped off the bottom stair, Sophia risked a glance through the open parlor door. She decided if caught she’d say she had a nightmare, but quickly realised it was unnecessary. Mama and Uncle Peter were nowhere to be seen.