“That is why I brought you long,” He unfastened his cloak and handed it over. “If I fall, you can catch me.”
Helgate snorted and took the garment, shaking it out before draping it over his shoulder. “The things you say with that cold face.”
Oliver arched a brow. “Afraid you can’t catch me? And here I thought you considered yourself a man of impeccable skill.”
“I am, which is precisely why I intend to remain standing. So don’t expect miracles if you fall.”
“Where is Miles?” Oliver asked, ignoring his friend’s unhelpfulness.
“He’s in the shadows over yonder.” Helgate gestured off to their right.
Oliver glanced over, and a man, cast in shadows, stepped forward to give a nod. Oliver inclined his head, and the phantom retreated into the shadows once more.
“Why did you want him here, anyway?” Helgate muttered. “He’s going to hound me about this forever.”
“Which is why I requested his presence.” He sent his friend a quirk of a smile. “To keep you in proper bounds.”
A shocked look crossed Helgate’s face. “And what proper bounds are those?” His friend jabbed up the residence. “Who is determined to scale such a wall without even a vine in sight? What aboutyourproper bounds?”
“I’ve conquered prisons worse than this.”
“Don’t remind me,” Helgate snapped, wiping at his brows. “Ialmost perished. God, wasn’t that situation similar to this?”
Oliver tugged off his gloves, stripping them finger by finger, and tossed them to Helgate. Bending down, he removed his boots, knowing he would need the grip of all his limbs to climb the wall successfully. He didn’t listen to Helgate’s griping. His friend was just worried, naturally so. But he took on this mission with the same seriousness as anything else he had ever undertaken, and not even the smallest sliver of doubt, could be allowed to enter his mind.
“Here, don’t forget this,” Helgate said, handing him over a small box. “You went through all the trouble of procuring it on that barman’s guidance. Don’t squander your pitiful purchase.”
Oliver stared at the black, velvet-covered jewelry box. This was an apology. An apology... hell, he didn’t know anymore. He’d bought the bauble on a whim, thoroughly annoyed at himself for doing something so out of character.
“Helgate.” Oliver turned to his friend solemnly. “If I fail or, for whatever reason, don’t survive the night, take care of my mother.”
“If you die tonight,” came Helgate’s hard resolution, “I die tonight.”
Oliver tossed his stockings and boots aside, the icy cobblestones biting into his bare feet. He ignored the cold. “Don’t let Miles hear you say such things. He will kill you himself.”
A slap landed on his shoulder. “Don’t curse me, old chap. I shall be here for you. The moment I hear shouts, screams, or rifles fired, we shall barge in.”
“If I enter successfully, you may leave,” Oliver tossed over his shoulder, preparing to climb. He flexed his fingers before running them along the cold stone, the rough surface scraping beneath his touch. This was good. There were no vines or trellises to aid his ascent, so the climb would test his endurance, but it would be worth it. He hoped.
“Crazy fool,” Helgate muttered.
He took a deep breath and started the climb, fingers searching for crevices, toes gripping ledges. The stone of the wall bit into his skin, but he ignored the discomfort, channeling all his focus on every inch he had to gain.
In his mind, he’d already climbed this wall a thousand times. This was the one thousand and first time, and it would be the last.
He reached a narrow ledge, pausing to catch his breath. The wall loomed above him, and he could see the faint light from Louisa’s bedchamber window. The closer he got, the more his heart pounded, but he couldn’t allow it to distract him.
He required extreme calm.
It didn’t help that he could feel Helgate’s hawk eyes boring into his back.
Oliver clenched his jaw forged on, muscles straining, fingers and toes aching. He narrowed his thoughts on Louisa—her kindness, her strength, the way her eyes softened when she spoke of her brother.
Her heart.
With a steady breath, he reached the balcony ledge, his fingers curling around the stone as he hauled himself up. Once perched atop the ledge, he paused for a breath, then swung his legs over, landing lightly on the other side. He peered back over the ledge, nodding down at Helgate before he turned and padded over to the glass doors.
The curtains weren’t drawn completely shut, and a sliver of light spilled onto the balcony. Through the gap, Oliver spotted Louisa reclining on her bed. Her profile was bathed in the soft glow of a candle, tracing the delicate curve of her cheek and the soft fall of her hair hanging over her shoulder. She looked like an angel—as ever—beautiful, untouchable, and also very much lost in thought.
