Page 33 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“How much?”
“Five thousand quid.”
“Pittance.”
She laughed more fully this time and her gloved hand covered her mouth. “You are a godsend. So generous. I can hardly believe it. If you are certain it won’t change things between us, I will gladly accept your offer.”
With a rap on the roof, he signaled to his driver to go to his residence. “You’ll have the money within the hour.”
Chapter 8
Clutching her reticule, Rose swept into her residence. “Merrick!”
Avendale had taken her into the grand study of his magnificent residence. After opening a safe located behind a seascape, he’d handed her five thousand quid with the same ease with which she handed over a penny for candy. Without demanding anything else of her, not even a kiss, he had returned her to the Twin Dragons.
She’d promptly made her excuses—she needed to contact those to whom she owed money so she could settle her accounts—promised to play cards with him in a private room tomorrow evening, had a young man fetch her carriage, and quickly returned home. The fashionable carriage and four for which she’d promised to pay a ghastly sum were waiting in the front.
“Merrick!”
Carrying a mug, he finally wandered out from the hallway that led to the dining room and the kitchen beyond. “You’re home early.”
“Pack up. We’re leaving.”
His brown eyes widened. “Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight. Straightaway, as soon as we can.”
“What do we take?”
“Only what we own. Leave the rest.”
He scurried over to her. “How much did you get?”
“Enough. Now see to matters posthaste.”
She hurried down the hallway from which he’d emerged. Outside the door to the library, she stopped for a moment, took a deep breath to compose herself. Then another. She could hardly fathom that Avendale had handed over five thousand pounds without so much as a blink. For a heartbeat she almost felt guilty about it, but she knew that was an emotion she did not have the luxury to feel. She denied herself most emotions, any that would deter her from her purpose. Another breath. She was about to deal with the most critical part of the plan.
Opening the door, she strolled in, glad to see that Harry was still awake. Sitting at the desk, scratching pen over paper, he looked up. She smiled with confidence. “Hello, dearest.”
Moving around behind him, she hugged his shoulders, kissed his head. Then she came to stand in front of him because it was imperative that he understood the significance of what she was about to say. “I apologize for disturbing your writing, but you need to pack up your things. We’ll be leaving tonight.”
“Is it because of that duke?” he asked. “Did he hurt you?”
She was taken off-guard for a moment that he would draw that conclusion. Avendale would never hurt her. Pity she couldn’t offer him the same courtesy. “Oh no. I simply decided I’d like to see Scotland.” They could become lost there. “The streets of London are so crowded during the day that we want to leave now, while we can travel swiftly.” Reaching across, she squeezed his hand. “Take your writing materials and your favorite books. We have only the one carriage so we can’t take everything, only the items you truly treasure. Can you pack quickly?”
“Yes, all right.”
She heard the hesitation, the sadness in his voice. They’d never lived anyplace quite this fine. She also knew his quickness would still be slow. As soon as she was finished getting her things together, she would assist him. “Thank you, dearest. I think you’ll like Scotland.”
Not that she’d ever been there to judge it, but she’d heard things. Leaving him then, she rushed to her bedchamber. She considered changing into something more practical for travel but she didn’t want to take the time.
Pulling her small trunk from its place against the wall, she threw back the lid and got down to the business of stuffing her clothes into it. Unlike her instructions to the others, she would pack things that had not yet been paid for. She wished she could take everything but it wasn’t possible, so she selected only the finest gowns because they might come in handy in the future.
It was half an hour later when her coachman came up to get the trunk. Joseph was nearly seven feet tall and as slender as a reed. She feared his bones might snap when he lifted the trunk up but he carried it with no problem at all. She wished she had jewelry. It wouldn’t take up much room and selling it would have provided them with more money than anything else they might sell, but jewelers were not as quick to part with their treasures when one could only offer a letter of credit. She gave a last glance around the room.
She was leaving far too much behind but she wanted to ensure Harry had all the room he required.
She traipsed quickly down the stairs and went outside to check on the status of things. Joseph was hefting her trunk onto the roof. Several bags and boxes were already there. It seemed they were making great progress. Now if she could simply rush Harry along—
