Page 62 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
“Get out of those coats,” Graeme said.
“That blasted Lord Vernon.” Lynford wobbled up, groaning and shrugging off his coat. “How’d you know my sister was sleeping?”
“What about Lord Vernon?” Graeme asked.
Lynford’s expression grew mulish. “What about my sister?”
It had been a near thing tonight. If Lynford had found him in his sister’s bed, it might have meant a demand for pistols at dawn.
“I found her asleep in a chair in the nursery and carried her to her bed.”
“The nursery?” Lynford looked confused, and Graeme realized Blythe hadn’t mentioned the children to Lynford.
But she’d told Graeme, and the thought gave him hope that just maybe he’d have a chance of earning her trust.
Lynford gagged again and reached for the chamber pot.
He’d get nothing out of Lynford tonight. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll get you a footman.”
Lynford would be too befuddled for an early start escorting Blythe to Lunetta’s lodgings. He would bet his last farthing that Blythe, who’d already done so much searching, would be out looking at first light.
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m only going out for an hour or two, my darling.” Blythe smoothed a hand over Coralie’s hair and whispered, “You’ll help Nicholas while I’m gone, won’t you? He’ll need your steady presence, and I’ll tell Cook to let Roddy, the kitchen boy, come up and play with him later.” She’d left a note for Lady Hermione as well, though she wouldn’t disturb that good lady’s slumber.
Coralie yawned. “What time is it?”
Blythe shushed her. Nicholas was still asleep and she didn’t want to wake him. Radley had risen to help Blythe dress, and a maid had taken her place in Radley’s chair.
The new maid dozed as well. It had been a grueling night for everyone at Chilcombe House.
A morsel of guilt niggled at her. For all that had transpired since Graeme’s arrival, she’d slept quite peacefully in her lover’s arms until she awakened and found him gone.
Not that Graeme was her lover or ever would be.
Before she could even think about dallying with him, or any other man, she must get to Lunetta, obtain the copy of the will from the woman, if indeed she had it, and destroy it.
It was shameful, illegal, and absolutely necessary, and she wouldn’t involve Graeme. He had an earldom to think of and a future diplomatic career.
Adwick, dear Adwick, who hadn’t slept more than a wink, said Will had crept in at the break of dawn. He’d been keeping late hours, both in going to bed and in rising.
She wouldn’t disturb him. She didn’t need to. Will’s mention of Soho had jiggled loose a memory of something Lunetta had once let slip.
She had a good idea where Lunetta Casale had lived before her arrival at Risley Manor, and she needed to go there while the whores and cutpurses were sleeping.
Dressing quickly in her oldest and plainest gown, she went down to the kitchen. Cook was up, beginning the preparations for breakfast. The door to the pantry was open and she spotted the urchin who slept there stretched on a pallet, still asleep. When she returned to London from Matron Manor, she’d found the lad sleeping in the stairwell and taking handouts from Cook.
That good lady looked up from the dough she was kneading. “You’re going out, my lady?”
Blythe put a finger to her lips and shook her head. “Let Roddy help take the tray up to the nursery and play for a while,” she said. “But only when they call for it. It was a long journey and they’re still sleeping. I won’t be gone long.”
“Here.” Cook wrapped two cooling buns in a cloth. “You must eat.”
The warmth of the fragrant bundle sent a shiver through her as she accepted it. “Thank you. Come and lock the door behind me.”
It was cool for late April, and as she opened the door to the service stairs at the front of the house, she saw that it was drizzling.
Cook’s disapproving silence followed her out of the door.
