The area they were in had pretty much gone to seed. Two young, well-dressed women by themselves were easy targets for the unscrupulous—or even for those simply desperate to rob for their next meal. His sister might be well-trained in wielding the knife she always carried, but she’d be no match for several men attacking at once. And Lorelei would be defenseless. He remembered Fiona offering to teach Lorelei how to throw a knife, but she hadn’t really been interested, although it would hardly matter if she and his sister were surprised and overpowered by ruffians. Coin wouldn’t be the only thing the men would take.
Thatthought made his blood boil.
“Bloody stupid of them to have come here,” he muttered.
Kelso nickered and pawed the ground.
“Right. We’d better follow them home.” He nudged the horse from the shadows. Ahead of them, the hack was turning down Southwark Street toward Blackfriars so it looked like they were going home and not venturing elsewhere.
Careful to keep his distance—he should have used one of Mount Stuart’s horses who was not as easily recognizable as Kelso—he watched as another rider appeared suddenly from an alley across the way and headed in the same direction as the hack. He noticed the man didn’t appear to be in any hurry to overtake the carriage, instead keeping pace well behind it. Alasdair frowned. Was the person following the hack purposely? Perhaps someone who intended to rob them?
Alasdair resisted the urge to let Kelso trot to catch up. If the intention was robbery, he was still close enough to put his horse to a gallop and fend the man off. He did a quick survey of his surroundings, wanting to make sure whoever the rider was, he was acting alone. The last thing Alasdair needed was to find himself encircled by thugs who’d be on foot, wielding weapons that could cripple his horse and bring him down.
All seemed quiet, though. He saw no shadows stir and he heard nothing rustle. Even the sound of Kelso’s hooves was muted, since the cobblestone had broken up and the street was as much dirt as anything else.
So why was the rider following Lorelei and Fiona? Or was he? It could be a coincidence, but Alasdair’s instincts told him otherwise. For one thing, there weren’t a lot of saddle horses moving about the streets in this area. And the rider had appeared to be hiding as well. Now that he had time to study the rider, the man looked to be well-dressed with a proper riding coat and breeches and leather boots.Who in the world is he?
When the hack turned onto Blackfriars Bridge the rider abruptly halted. Alasdair drew rein as well and waited as the other man looked after the carriage, then continued on past the bridge and turned his horse toward the wharf. As he did so, Alasdair had a glimpse of longish blond hair from beneath the hat and a face bronzed by the sun. He knew who the rider was.
What was Erik Taylor doing following his sister and Lorelei? Or, a better question was, why?
Chapter Thirteen
“Here we are,” Lady Bute said as the footman helped them disembark from the earl’s carriage several afternoons later. “Burlington House. This is one of the finest private collections of art in the city.”
Lorelei paused on the walkway to the main entrance and looked up. She and Fiona had passed this unique-looking building on Piccadilly when they’d gone off on their adventures, but she hadn’t known who lived there. It was definitely impressive.
Lady Bute must have noticed her studying the structure for she smiled. “The house has had several renditions since it was built in the 1600s, but this version is fairly modern. The third Earl of Burlington was fascinated with Andrea Palladio’s work in Rome and decided to renovate the house.”
“Just wait until you see the inside,” Louisa said. “The central staircase is spectacular.”
Lorelei exchanged looks with Fiona as they followed Louisa and her mother up the walkway. Louisa had come back from her meeting on Monday excited that Mrs. Montagu had managed to persuade the present earl to allow a select number of debutantes into his home to view his private collection.
“I wonder who else will be here,” Fiona whispered to her.
“I do not know, but whoever they are, they will have bragging rights as the first group that has been invited.” Lorelei grinned. “They may not be excited to look at all the artwork, but it was smart of Mrs. Montagu to keep the invitations limited and have it at a private home.”
“So none of them will dare refuse a future invitation here, if the earl approves?” Fiona grinned as well. “I would say ’twas verra smart on Mrs. Montagu’s part.”
“The bluestocking women are supposed to be smart.” Louisa winked at Fiona as the front entrance door opened for them. “Maybe King George should commission some of them to provide strategies for his generals to subdue the Colonies.”
“Aye. They’d probably get it done quicker, too.”
They all laughed as they entered the large, airy foyer and then abruptly stopped.
Lady Melissa Talbot stood with several other girls at the bottom of the central staircase.
“We should have known she’d be here,” Lorelei muttered under her breath.
Louisa turned. “Sheisthe daughter of a duke.”
Lorelei remembered only too well. It was one of the reasons Fiona had thought to convince Alasdair to pay some attention to her. That idea had certainly backfired. She sighed. Unfortunately, with Gavin in London ready to dispute land holdings, Alasdair was going to need the sway of another duke to persuade Parliament in favor of the MacGregors. She knew that.
Mrs. Montagu came over and, although she smiled at Louisa, she saved her remarks for Lady Bute. “I am so glad you could come today.”
“Thank you for the invitation. It was kind of you to think of my daughter and her friends.”
Louisa smiled a bit too brightly. “We were glad to come. How many of us were you expecting?”
