William followed her down a narrow flight of wooden stairs, then into a plain parlor with but two chairs and no windows. His landlady left him with the candle and disappeared.
A figure waited in the shadows.
Muscles tight, William strode forward until feeble candlelight uncovered the woman in a blue cloak. “Miss Gresham.”
“How could you do this to us?”
So she had come on her father’s behalf. Likely to stuff a bank note into William’s pocket, swat him on the hand, and scold him to never dare approach his own father again.
William could not be put off so easily. “I do not wish to discuss the matter with you, Miss Gresham. How did you find me?”
“The day you forgot your hat. I had a servant follow you to return it.”
“I see.”
“You did not answer my question.”
“Nor do I intend to. You have no business coming here, and besides that, it is not safe.”
“Safety is exactly the reason I have come.” Her chin lifted and orange light flickered in her determined eyes. “My father’s and my own.”
“Have no fear. I shall not be the one to soil your reputation.”
“What do you want?”
“This is none of your affair.”
“It is very much my affair, as it is my life you are threatening.” She drew closer to him, breathing fast, the hood falling from her head. “You must take the money my father offered you and leave.”
“You forget, Miss Gresham. I do not run.”
“I fear that tactic ended in your demise, if you remember.”
“A tragedy which will not happen again.” William took her arm and started her for the door, but she shook out of his touch.
“You are despicable and wicked to say such lies against Father.”
“You truly believe that?”
“Believe what?”
“That they are lies.” He held her eyes and willed her to believe him. He didn’t know why, or why it should matter.
Doubt thawed her gaze—though whether in their father or William, he could not tell. Tears flashed. “I hope I never see you again,” she whispered. She fled from the dark parlor so fast her cloak billowed after her.
But her hopes were in vain. That much, as of now, he determined. Because Shelton would not have sent William after Lord Gresham if there were not a reason.
William would not quit until he knew what that reason was.
“We are leaving.”
“What?” Isabella jerked her gaze to Father across the breakfast table, and the coffee she poured from the silver pot did not quite make it to her cup. Brown liquid splashed to the white tablecloth and scorched her fingertips. She mopped it up with a napkin. “You cannot mean leave London.”
“Precisely what I mean. Mary?”
A maidservant rushed to the table, and Father bade her assist with the mess.
Isabella abandoned her chair. She was not hungry anyway. Not now. “I daresay, Father, I think it most craven to … to run.” Mr. Kensley’s words from last night returned to her.
