“A house for ladies in trouble. And if your sister is headin’ there, she’s?—”
“In trouble. Damn.”In trouble. What did that mean? What kind of trouble? Why hadn’t she told Keats? Or their father? Why run away with strangers?
Probably because of her engagement to Lord Provolone. Lord Provenance? Sir… oh hell, what was his name? Didn’t matter because the man was old enough to be their grandfather. Theirgrandfather, and Alex had been given no choice. But why did she need one? Their father, the Marquess of Rainsly, knew what was best for her.
These people were after her dowry. Or after something else entirely.
Whatever it was, Keats would take them down, would save his sister from these shadow-shrouded con men.
But perhaps he should be sober first. The world spun a bit too much for heroics.
Keats dug the pistol harder into Mr. Sacks’s ribs. “As long as you comply, you’ll reach this Hawthorne House without an extra hole in your body. I need to know that my sister is safe. If Hawthorne House proves to be so, I’ll leave on my own.” But if he discovered she wasn’t… he’d burn this house down.
Mr. Sacks flinched, his hands tightening on the reins. He gave a curt nod, and the hack rumbled south in silence but for the groan and crunch of wheels over pavement.
Keats wriggled. “How long is the trip?”
“You’ll see.”
“And what should we speak of until we get there?”
“Nuthin’.”
“I can suggest a better topic of conversation.” He sighed. “Miss Jones.” Another reason to drive into the night, a secret stowaway on his sister’s flight from London—another glimpse of the angel.
But if the angel proved a demon, he’d not hesitate to burn her with the rest.
Two
Men were devils. Lady Alexandra had stopped crying an hour ago and slept soundly now, her head nestled on Lucy’s shoulder. Poor girl. Lucy hadn’t gotten much out of her except that she was engaged to a man triple her age and seduced by another who’d disappeared after she’d given herself up to him. The girl was bruised, too.
See? Devils. Particularlyaristocraticmen. A scourge upon humanity.
No wonder Lady Alexandra had cried until she’d run out of tears. And to think, Mr. and Mrs. Beckett, the owners of Hawthorne House, didn’t want titled ladies there.
She patted the girl’s shoulder and looked across the way at her friend and accomplice. “Peggy, did you get her valise?”
“Naturally.” The former actress sniffed. “How many valises have I yanked from rose-decorated rooms over the years?”
“Many, I’m sure.”
Peggy nodded. Then giggled. “There’s going to be a duel this morning. In Green Park. I heard whispers about it in the stables. Can we stop by and see it before heading back to the house?”
Lucy had heard that bit of gossip, too, tumbling from drunken lips in the room right next to Lady Alexandra’s, muffledby the wall, but clear enough. Lady Alexandra’s brother had need of a pistol to meet a man in Green Park, and his mistress would rather him stay abed. Apparently even the peerage possessed thin walls.
“No time for that,” Lucy said.
“There’s always time for drama,” Peggy sighed.
“Not when we have a vulnerable charge to carry to safety.”
“You’re no fun. Not like your sister-in-law. She could have done well on the stage. You won’t even dress in men’s garb.” Peggy sighed. “You’d cut an excellent figure in pants and a waistcoat. And your brother would surely allow you to borrow a greatcoat.”
“I prefer my gowns, thank you.” They fit her hips better than trousers, allowed for greater movement, particularly with the large slit she’d hemmed up the side of her voluminous skirts. Gowns were simply… prettier. She’d abandoned most of her frivolous self years ago, but not this bit. This inch of girlish Lucy she kept for herself—silks and satins, ribbons and tiny, perfect buttons in a row.
She picked at the split hem of her skirt. She’d lined it with a ribbon the same color of the gown. It added texture and depth, and something to fidget with when trying to order her mind.
There was much to consider. A new lady at the house always meant a variety of things. A visit from her brother, Dr. Jones, to ensure good health, the construction of a list of necessities for the new inhabitant, and the consideration of what kind of life she would like to pursue after leaving their safe haven. Lucy liked that part of her work best: listening to the ladies talk about their hopes and dreams, doing what she could to turn those dreams into reality. Nothing better.
