Page 94 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Chin up, Paulette. You can scream loud enough to bring at least someone from the kitchen.
This room was unoccupied. Her curiosity piqued, she checked each room, all of them unlocked. No servants interrupted her. The small staff was undoubtedly serving the dinner downstairs. Four rooms held men’s things. Bakeley, Bakeley’s companion, whoever he was, Kincaid, and she finally found the room with Gibson’s traveling kit. She slipped in and looked around.
It was very odd. Husbands and wives were usually settled next to each other, in adjoining chambers if possible. The bed bore a man’s outline. He’d rested, then washed—the water had cooled in the basin. He’d shaved also. The razor sat gleaming on a piece of white toweling. He’d taken more care for this dinner with Bakeley than he had on their wedding night, not that she’d minded.
Had he changed for this dinner? She opened the small case.
He’d packed away his soiled shirt, so there’d be no need to stay while his laundry dried. The razor could be packed in moments. He was leaving, and soon. And, his pistols must be with him.
She stepped back into the corridor and collided with Jenny, who had Paulette’s soiled gown draped over her arm.
“Oh, Miss.”
Paulette pulled her into her husband’s room. “They’ve put Mr. Gibson in this room.”
Jenny frowned. She knew enough about the arranging of guests to know this wasn’t usual.
“They’re planning, I think, that I should stay here.”
“’T’will be safer, won’t it, miss?”
“Perhaps. But I don’t want to stay here. Will you help me?”
“Of course.”
“You must not tell Mabel. Will you promise?”
The girl’s hesitation sent anxiety coursing through her. Perhaps it was a mistake to trust Jenny.
“No matter what happens, Jenny, you will have a home with me. I promise you.”
The girl nodded.
“I saw two handsome lads working here, not much bigger than me either of them.”
Jenny nodded again. Boys that handsome, of course she’d seen them.
“I need trousers, a shirt, and coats. My own boots will do, I think.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “I dressed as a boy once.” She frowned. “The usual boy for the sneak had took sick and they needed—well, I almost got caught. If something happens to you—”
“Nothing will happen. I’ll follow close to them. I’ll need that second knife back from you.” And a pistol. She needed a pistol. Gibson had two, but if she took one of them, he would notice. “They’re plotting to lock me up and keep me locked up until they’ve secured the money my father left me.”
The maid’s face fell. “Mr. Gibson would do that?”
Guilt stabbed at Paulette. All the servants admired Bink. “His intention may be only to keep me safe. But I don’t trust his brother, Lord Bakeley. I mean, Lord Shaldon. And I don’t know the other man, but I thought he looked—”
“Shifty.” Jenny’s lips firmed.
The girl saw much. “Yes. I won’t use the knife unless I need to.”
Jenny nodded. “I didn’t see a key up there. I was locked in once, miss.” She frowned again. “Not for long. There’d be those going upon the dub…er, that is…I know a bit about picking locks.”
“Really?” Her heart lifted. She’d had the lessons from Jock, and some practice, but it would be good to have the help of a professional.
“Oh, miss.” She would swear Jenny blushed. “I would never steal—”
“Of course not. Anyway, I know a bit about it too.”
“You need picks.”
She patted her head. “I have my hairpins.”
“A real set would be better. One of the gentlemen might have one.”
Kincaid. If anyone had a set of picks it would be him.
She’d seen his black bag resting on a chair in the next room.
