No, not Francesca. She wasn’t safe.
And he’d left her alone.
Ethan plunged into the swirling snow outside, Alex right on his heels.
“The eyes, the gloves,” Ethan said over his shoulder, raising his voice to be heard over the wind. “Roxbury was wearing black leather gloves at the engagement ball.”
Gagnon burst through the tavern door after them. “Hey, what about my money?”
Ethan turned and, without pausing, tossed him the full contents of the purse.
“What the hell?” Alex teetered, torn between retrieving the money and tearing after his brother. Ethan heard him curse and then call, “Just because Roxbury was wearing black leather gloves at your engagement ball doesn’t mean he’s our man.” Alex grabbed the shoulder of Ethan’s snow-covered coat. “Ethan, wait. Let’s go to Camille and our other contacts, confirm this before you rush home to England and accuse the Earl of Roxbury of being a traitor.”
Dread mounting inside him like the howling storm around them, Ethan shook his brother off.
“No.” He grabbed Alex and shook him roughly. “I have to go. Don’t you understand?” He shook Alex again. “I may already be too late.”
Thirty-four
Francesca tucked herChristmas list under a sheet of gold paper and smiled as Mrs. Carbury entered the morning room, where Francesca had spread out her supply of pretty papers, ribbon, and twine, and gifts for Ethan’s servants and tenants.
“I thought you might like some tea, my lady.” The housekeeper set a tray on one of the few tables not covered with Christmas trimmings.
“Thank you, Mrs. Carbury. I’d love some.” Francesca arched, feeling some of the knots and tightness in her back and neck give way. Her stomach growled when Mrs. Carbury handed her the tea and a small plate with a slice of bread.
“It looks as though you’ve made quite a bit of progress, my lady.” Mrs. Carbury gave an approving nod to the neat arrangement of wrapped packages Francesca had put to one side.
Francesca looked up from buttering her bread to the stack of brightly beribboned gifts. “Yes, I’ve finished the presents for the poor. Would you ask Daniel and Isaac to be prepared to leave within the hour? And please tell Hurst I’ll need the coach readied.”
“Yes, my lady. Is there anything else?” Mrs. Carbury gave the pile of presents another glance.
“No, there’s nothing else, and I saw that peek, Mrs. Carbury! Now off with you before I decide not to give you a gift at all!”
Mrs. Carbury laughed and scurried from the room, her steps as light as those of a young girl. Francesca watched the door close, lifted her teacup, and pulled her Christmas list from beneath the gold paper.
She stared at it and tried to concentrate. Christmas was her favorite time of year, but this holiday she took no delight in the traditions and rituals. Wrapping the gifts for the poor and the servants seemed more a chore than a pleasure, and overseeing the preparations, small though they were, drained her of energy.
