He covered her fingers fleetingly, recognized the danger of such an action, and released her. “We very well might find out.” He leaned out the window and called to the Jarvey: “Follow him!”
He sat back, but kept the window down despite the cold, watching the town chaise as it wended its way through the traffic. One would think that with all this snow, people would find excuses to remain indoors. Yet the entire population of London appeared to be abroad this morning.
Beside him, Christy shivered as the wind whipped through the carriage. The devil! If only he had thought to obtain a hot brick for her feet, she must be chilled to the bone. His gaze lingered on her riotous hair, then traveled to those marvelous eyes, brilliant blue and filled with laughter, even now, when they headed into possible danger. He never should have included her on this chase, he should have sent her back inside—or sent her on to the safety of the Runcorns in another hackney.
Her infectious smile flashed and she squeezed his fingers. “Don’t look so worried. We’re getting somewhere at last.” She let down the window on her side and peered out. “I can’t tell, but I think that other man is following us. What a parade we’re making.”
James spun about, staring hard out the window. Confound it! Of course that other man would pursue them, since that appeared to be his job. “When we arrive at our destination, we may well be at a considerable disadvantage,” he said.
She nodded. “Sandwiched between them. I wonder if they brought any mustard?” she mused, then shuddered. “Let’s just hope it isn’t catsup.”
He let that pass. Questioning her cryptic utterances invariably led to even more confusion. At least she didn’t go off into strong hysterics like any other woman of his acquaintance would. Made of stern stuff, his Christy.
His? He cast a considering glance at her. Yes, his, for however long he could keep this vibrant, loving woman at his side.
Yet how long would that be? For the next week or two, at least, of that he felt certain. She had been thrust into his world for a reason, to help prevent a revolution. Surely she wouldn’t be torn away from him until they completed that task.
But what about after that? Would she remain stranded in his time, separated from her family, from everything she knew—with him? Or would she return where she belonged?
His gaze rested on the enchanting curve of her Bps, the long sweep of her dark lashes, the impish gleam in her brilliant eyes, and he knew he didn’t want her to leave. She’d crept into his life, into his being, until he couldn’t imagine existing without her.
“I wonder how much farther?” She peered once more out the window. “Do you suppose he knows we’re following him, and he’s leading us on a wild-goose chase?”
He drew a steadying breath and forced his attention back to the problem at hand. “I don’t believe so. We are not directly behind him, he should have no reason to be aware of us, as yet.” They proceeded for some time through the drifting snow, turning first onto Oxford Street, then onto Tottenham Court Road. As they continued, without changing direction, James drummed his fingers along the edge of the door panel. The buildings grew farther and farther apart, until at last they passed out of London and onto Hampstead Heath.
“Perhaps we should have brought our suitcases,” Christy said. James shook his head. “It can’t be much farther.”
“He’ll notice us, if it is.” She looked back the way they had come. “There are other carriages, at least.”
“Let us hope he is not aware of us.” He glanced at Christy and frowned. What the deuce was he to do with her if trouble began? He doubted the jarvey would be willing to enter any fray; he wished Wickes had selected a more robust driver, one who might welcome a bit of home-brewed.
He touched Christy’s hand. “If our friends ambush us, I want you to stay in the hackney. Crouch low on the floor. They might not see you.”
“Of course they will.” She bristled. “Do you think I’d let you face an attack alone?”
“Christy!” He possessed himself of her cold fingers. “I won’t place you at risk.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I’m helpless? I’ll have you know I’ve taken two self-defense classes, and I’ve got a couple of pretty good karate kicks.”
“A couple of what?” As usual, she had lost him.
She thrust out her delightful chin. “I mean, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself in a fight.”
“You—No, that’s impossible.” The thought was ludicrous. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Oh, don’t I? You don’t work in San Francisco’s Tenderloin without being prepared.”
“You—are you saying you have learned to box?”
At that, she laughed. “Of course not. I’m not nearly big enough for that. I fight dirty.” She eyed him, a martial light kindling in her eyes. “I could probably teach you a few tricks.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he managed.
The hackney slowed, and instantly his attention switched from his unconventional lady to the countryside. Deep drifts of snow covered the fields, with bushes poking through at intervals. White-laden branches hung low beneath their icy burdens.
They turned onto a narrow lane, and after a few moments their pace increased once more. A mile later, the hackney slowed and pulled onto the snowy verge.
Christy peered out through the flurry of flakes that whirled about their carriage. “Has he stopped?” she called to the driver.
The man swiveled around on his box, and his narrow face peered down at her. “They’ve gone into a drive, miss.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“About five miles outside of London, miss.”
James swung down. “Stay here, Christy.”
She scrambled after him. “Forget it! I’m not letting you go anywhere alone.”
“Christy!” He caught her shoulders. “This could be dangerous.”
“And I suppose being shot at and chased through the alleys of London isn’t? Come on, are you staying or coming?”
James glared at her, then turned to the jarvey. “Wait for us. It will be well worth your while when we return.”
The little man eyed him with interest. “It’s too cold to keep old Frederick ’ere standing, sir. Doesn’t take the snow the way he used to.”
“Walk him, then, but keep within sight of this place. We may be leaving in a hurry.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Not milling any kens, are you, guv’nor?”
James smiled, in spite of his tension. “No. But if we do not return within an hour, you might do well to lay information in Bow Street.”
The man nodded. “That I will, guv’nor.”
Hugging her arms about her against the cold, Christy started across the narrow lane, only to pull up short as a heavy closed carriage lumbered toward them. Bells jingled on the harnesses of the four flashy chestnuts pulling it. A coat of arms was emblazoned on the panels. It passed without slowing, and the occupants—a stout, older couple—paid them no heed. Probably some wealthy aristocrats on their way to a Christmas house party.
A shiver raced up her spine. A house party. That’s where James needed to be. She started once more across the way, only to have him catch her arm.
“Not up the main drive. Do you really want them to know I’m walking right into their lair?”
“Well, it might bring faster results,” Christy pointed out, though that was the last thing she wanted. Apparently, he’d accepted the fact she was going with him, and that relieved her. She didn’t want to spend every step of what ought to be a surreptitious trek through the snow on arguing with him.
They crept down the lane, away from the gate, searching the hedges for an opening. After about fifty yards, he located a likely spot amid the leafless branches, and slipped through. Christy, on hands and knees, followed.
They emerged into an open expanse of what was probably lawn beneath the white blanket. James took her frozen hand and, bending low and running, led h
er along the line of hedge until they reached a wooded stand about a hundred yards away. The jingling of bells and the muffled hoofbeats of a single horse made Christy jump, but they proved to be coming from the other side of the hedge, approaching along the lane from the same direction as they had come.
Christy shivered. “Do you have any idea whose house this is?” He frowned. “I’ll know better when I see it from the front, though I’ll swear I’ve been here before.”
She rolled her eyes. “I knew we should have gone up the main drive.” They crept through the woods, circling around until they faced the back of the house. “Look familiar?”
A dog barked, a deep, reverberating woof that set her heart pounding in her chest. There weren’t any trees nearby to climb, and by the sound of it, that hound probably had teeth to match the woof.
“Very familiar,” James muttered. “The devil! I know I’ve been here.”
“How delightful. Do all your friends want to murder you?” He shook his head. “It only takes one, my dear, it only takes one.”
They ran for a shrubbery, leaving footprints behind them, she reflected ruefully. Some surreptitious expedition this was, with them alerting the animals and leaving tracks all over the place. Again, the crunch of hooves on gravel reached them, and Christy ducked low.
“I believe our tail has finally shown up,” she said.
“No, that can’t be. If he’d followed us—” He broke off as the sound grew more distant. “He must be leaving. That must have been him we heard earlier.”
Christy sighed. “Shall we just walk up to the front door and announce ourselves?”
“I doubt there’s any need at this point. I think we will do best to leave as quickly as possible. As soon as I discover whose house this is.”
They followed another hedge to the edge of the stable, crossed behind it, then dashed the few exposed yards to the low shrubs lining the drive. Christy crouched and followed this toward the gate, then at last stopped to look behind her.
“We’re clearly visible from the house,” she said in disgust. “Someone is probably having a pretty good laugh at us.”
James nodded, his expression grim. “Then why haven’t they come after us?”
“Maybe they’re arranging a reception at the front gate for when we try to leave.”
By mutual consent, they abandoned their pretenses of hiding and walked erect, following the curve of the drive until at last they obtained a clear view of the facade of an elegant Georgian manor. For a long minute, James stared in silence.
“Well, well, well,” he said at last.
“Is it? Well, I mean?”
“You’ve even heard of him.”
“I have? Who?”
“This is Briarly. The home of Sir Dominic Kaye.”
“Sir—” The blood drained from her face, leaving her clammy. “Oh, James, what a tangle!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“No, there’s more you don’t know. Look, I told you I came to England to buy a letter. It was written by your Prinny, and it was addressed to Sir Dominic Kaye, requesting his support in passing the regency bill. This Sir Dominic must be aware of some threat you pose—your books, perhaps—and is trying to get rid of you.”
James frowned. “Just because he received a letter does not mean he supports Prinny’s regency.”
“But that must be it. Unless you can think of another reason why he’d want you assassinated?”
A grim smile just touched his lips. “Not at the moment.”
“Could he have been the one on the ice who shot at you?”
“He is not a robust man.”
“All he needed to be was a good skater.” She shivered. “What have you ever done to him to make him take such drastic measures? Couldn’t he just talk to you? Ask you not to cause trouble?”
He drew a deep breath. “I have met him upon many occasions, but I cannot really say I know him.” He shook his head. “Our mystery, it seems, deepens. For now, let us get out of here.” They continued along the line of shrubs toward the lane. No one appeared, no one challenged them, no dogs raced in frenzied pursuit.
Christy shuddered. “How could somebody you know, a gentleman, a friend of your cousin’s, do this to you?”
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” His tone left no room for doubt.
They reached the gate, and Christy moved ahead to look up and down the lane. The soft jingle of bells preceded their hackney, which rounded a curve toward them. Christy ran forward, waving to him.
“Has anyone come out of this drive?” she asked.
The driver nodded, glowering at them. “Quite a nip in the air, miss,” he said, pointedly.
James’s lip twitched. “Would there be anything in your regulations against taking us to the nearest inn for a warming drink? I don’t believe I’d notice, of course, if you had one as well.”
The man smiled broadly. “Mighty kind of you, sir, mighty kind indeed.”
“Did anyone come out?” Christy repeated.
“Yes, miss. Another ’ackney.”
“Another—it was our tail!”
“What happened?” James asked.
“Oh, ’e arrived ’ere just after you two disappeared through that there ’edge. Pulled abreast of me, ’e did, then the passenger told the jarvey to turn into that there gate. Come out again after no more than fifteen minutes I’d say.”
Christy cast James a rueful glance. “Now what?”
“Let’s go back, I think.”
“Any particular inn you was thinking of, guv’nor?” the jarvey asked, his tone hopeful. Obviously he didn’t intend to let them forget the promised treat.
“One of your liking,” James said, and helped Christy into the carriage.
“What is this, a standoff?” She slid over to make room for him. “They now know that we know who they are.”
“Do we?” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I know whose house they went to. What I cannot understand is Sir Dominic’s involvement in anything so mystifying. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems.”
“Unless he really supports Prinny.”
James shook his head. “He’s a member of the Opposition—as are most of my cousin’s friends. And very outspoken about Prinny’s extravagances. You may remember that from Sir Oliver’s comments.”
“Everyone your cousin knows is outspoken about that.” She sighed. “That also provides an innocent explanation for the letter, doesn’t it? Or could his opposition all be a cover on his part, to make you think he supports what you do when in fact he’s trying to kill you?”
“I can’t think of a single reason why he should want to. It seems I shall have to ask him.”
“We will. You are not meeting him anywhere alone.”
James regarded her through lowered lids. “He would be hard pressed to murder me in our club,” he pointed out.
“And do you think he’ll go there now he knows you know?” She shivered. “He’ll probably have to strike fast, now. Why didn’t they just trap us there?”
“One can only assume he has his reasons.”
She glared at him. “Possibly one being the presence of our driver in the road. They must have guessed you’d tell him to go to the authorities.”
“Possibly.” James fell silent for a very long while, staring out the window of the carriage.
The heath behind them, they drove through the outskirts of the city, then pulled into the yard of a respectable inn. James handed the driver some coins, then took Christy inside where he ordered a couple of coffees. He steered her to the inglenook, where they sat on a wooden bench and stared into the fire.
“It’s creepy,” Christy said at last. “Somebody you know.”
“Very few people are murdered by strangers,” he pointed out. “Except for psychopaths.”
But the truth of what he said sank in. She came from an era jam-packed with random drive-by shootings and serial killers. But this was different. This was
the systematic stalking of one man, for a specific reason. In some way, James must jeopardize someone’s existence.
“Is it only when you do something in particular?” she asked suddenly. “They seem to follow you all the time, but they don’t always try to kill you. They didn’t this morning, they didn’t now, and there have been other occasions, too. Why is it that sometimes they attack, and others they don’t?”
He shook his head. “Opportunity, perhaps?”
“Or if they think you are about to do something to harm them?”
“How could I have possibly harmed anyone while skating on the Serpentine?”
She drew an unsteady breath. “No, I suppose you’re right.”
“There’s only one thing to be done. I will confront Sir Dominic and demand an explanation.”
“Do you think he will talk to you?” She looked up at him, worried.
“If he doesn’t, I will call upon him—and in a manner he is not likely to find pleasant.”
They finished their coffees and returned to the hackney. The jarvey once more sat on his box, looking considerably more pleased with his lot in life. James gave the direction of the orphanage, and once more they set off, wending their way through the snow-filled streets.
Christy stared out at the blank coldness of the view that met her gaze. “It doesn’t feel like only a couple days before Christmas. There should be lights everywhere, and garlands and banners.”
“I almost wish I could see this world of yours. It sounds so very different from my own.”
“It is,” she agreed. “I miss it, terribly. I thought I hated it, with all its pollution and crime and commercialism, but it’s mine.”
He covered her chilled hand. “There’s a very good chance you’ll go back to it. It’s where you belong.”
But not completely what she wanted, not after what they shared last night... A longing filled her, to stay in this alien time with James—yet she missed her brothers and sisters. The ache in her heart deepened, tearing at her. Whether she remained or returned, she was going to lose someone she loved.
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