Page 114 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Paulette caught his eye. “We wouldn’t take advantage of your kindness to endanger you,” she said.
Betty went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “I know a bit about the legal world. It’s not unheard of for ladies in my profession to seek the assistance of a solicitor. And perhaps, a carriage bearing two veiled ladies will be more easily disregarded.”
“You mean two ladies and two gentlemen,” Bink said.
“Rowland is right. You’ll be quite noticeable, Gibson. Rowland knows how to play the servant, don’t you my dear? We can bring Paulette safely there and back.”
“No.” He squeezed Paulette’s hand. “I’ve promised to keep her safe and I will do so. And I will not allow you to risk any more than what you’ve already done for us.”
Betty tilted her head. “Well, I had to try.” She sighed. “There’s also the consideration the solicitor may insist on dealing only with your husband.”
“What?” Paulette cried. “That is so unjust.”
“The Rights of Man are only the rights of men,” Betty said. “No, I suppose Gibson must go with you. One of the ladies here has a very respectable dress that will suit. She’s your height, and we’ll take it in where it’s too large. And I have a bonnet and veil that will do nicely.”
Paulette turned her hand in his and her grip tightened.
“We’re grateful, Betty. And the loan of a dress would be marvelous. I shall return it, or replace it. And I should like seeing my husband with dark hair, but how shall we cover all those freckles?’
Paulette donned the chemise, stays and puce gown Betty had brought her, barely able to make out the closures, barely daring to breathe lest she wake Bink.
He’d slept a mere five hours out of the last thirty-six, yet she didn’t trust that a man who’d survived violent warfare could slumber through the escape of his bride.
For escape, she would, for his sake. It wasallfor his sake. Rowland and Betty’s words had weighed heavily on her. Bink was impossible to not notice. She, on the other hand, would be garbed more finely than Agruen or Bakeley would ever expect, for indeed this dresswaselegant, and the veil would do the rest.
The solicitor would talk to her. Hemusttalk to her. That was the other reason she must go alone. If Bink accompanied her, Tellingford might completely ignore her.
She slid a pistol into her pocket, sheathed a blade on her arm, and another in her boot, and shoved the set of picks she’d lifted from Kincaid’s bag into her other boot.
His breathing was the steady, loud snore she was growing accustomed to.
A bit of light leaked through the muffled window and she crept to the door.
They’d discussed the best time of arrival. They’d discussed hackney fare, and she’d tucked coins into her reticule. She was leaving far too early, but without Bink, she’d no idea how long it would take a hackney to reach the City. Solicitors had clerks who worked from dawn to dusk, she hoped. Surely they’d allow her to wait for Tellingford’s arrival.
She tiptoed through the house. Below stairs, all was quiet, and she gave thanks Betty’s house kept late hours for even the servants. She eased into the back garden and out the garden gate. The corner they’d passed the night before had no hackneys, so she went the other way. Dawn was coming, and market men were out already, delivering goods. She made her way down the alley toward the busy street ahead.
After many wrongturnings and obscure signs, the hackney paused at an elegant building with a black-lettered signTellingford,Lippscombe and Latrice.
Her heart eased and then started up again. Her dither had turned into a panic about finding the solicitor’s office. Now she was here, she must worry about who else might be waiting.
“This be it,” the driver said, none too kindly. He recited a fare that was more than they’d agreed to, but then shehadled him astray.
Perhaps she would walk back, if someone would but tell her the way.
The building housing the solicitor’s office was not what Paulette would have expected, grander than the lone solicitor’s office in the market town near her home. A deep portico swallowed the entry door, its shadows lending an extra gloom to the overcast morning.
The streets of Mayfair had been quieter. Here, laborers, tradesmen, clerks, even some early-rising gentlemen bustled about. Watchers, she did not see, but then she wouldn’t, would she?
She gulped down the fear, paid the driver, and climbed out. A shadow moved in the portico and a dark figure loomed and terror slammed her.
In a flash, he was down the steps reaching for her.
