Page 63 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
Drawing her shawl over her head, she made her way up the stairs. A small figure moved into view.
“Anything I can do fer ye today, milady?”
“Bobby, I was hoping I’d see you about.” She handed over the warm bundle of bread. “Walk with me to the hackney stand and tell me what you know.”
Bobby was another street urchin who lingered about, kin or just friend to Roddy, she wasn’t sure, but he’d begun appearing on the street after she’d taken in the smaller child.
“There’s been a Runner in your place all night, milady,” he said through a mouthful.
“Yes. Finish chewing before you speak. Lord Chilcombe hired him.”
“Heard the tall bloke what’s been staying here’s your brother?”
“Yes. Captain Lynford.”
Blythe waved to a passing hackney and the driver pulled up.
“Keep your eyes and ears open for me, will you?” she said, reaching for the carriage’s door.
“Where ye going?”
“Never mind, you. It’s none of your business.”
Opening the door, she paused on the step. A hand reached out and tugged her the rest of the way in.
Graeme’s hand.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Where to, Blythe?” Graeme still had hold of her.
Too astonished to speak, she spluttered.
“Soho,” Graeme called. “We’ll give you the street when we get closer.”
Blythe straightened in her seat, her heart clacking wildly as astonishment and anger flooded her. How… He’d been in her room. He’d gone through her things… or…She cast her mind over her memory of her room. She’d left Will’s note on her writing table. Clearly, Graeme had found it and read it.
He didn’t know everything though. He didn’t know where exactly in Soho she needed to go.
Easing in a breath, she mentally ran through her options. They could turn around and return home and wait for Will to arise.
But of course, then she’d have to argue with her brother about allowing her to pay this call with him. And perhaps by then, other parties would be involved—Graeme’s friend, Morley, or even Mr. Jarrow.
Or she could guide them to random addresses in Soho in what would be a futile search for the woman.
“Let me help you,” Graeme said.
Or, yes, that was another option. She could take Graeme’s assistance. And if they found the new will, then what?
She leaned back into the squab, wishing that she could make herself invisible and slip away without Graeme noticing.
He was a silent presence seated beside her. He’d let go of her hand, and she felt the absence of his touch. It had been reassuring. And friendly. Perhaps almost loving.
Such a small intimacy, a touch on the hand. So much more stirring than her late husband’s aggressive groping. Graeme, so far, had been kind.
How long would that last?
Only until he discovers what you’ve done and what you intend to do. This dance with him was getting tiring. She might as well meet her fate.
