“Not at all,” she told him truthfully. “I would make the same decision again if I had to.”
Turning back toward her, his eyes met hers with a look that gave her strength: admiration. “Good to know,” he murmured. The carriage came to a halt due to a vegetable cart blocking the road. “Come on,” he said as he jumped down and helped her to the ground as well. “Cheapside is just up ahead.”
“Are we still being followed?”
“Seems that way,” James said, glancing over his shoulder and spotting their pursuers. He’d be damned if he was going to let any harm come to her, which was part of the reason why he’d run in the first place. If he’d been alone, he might have risked the fight, but not with Lady Newbury by his side.
Turning onto the Old Change a short while later, he led her toward Fish Street. Just a little while longer and they would arrive at Mr. Garick’s pawnbroker shop.
“Where are we going?” Lady Newbury asked as she hurried along beside him.
“To get help,” James told her. “We can’t run forever, so we’ll have to hide until we can get to safety later.” With Carlton House out of reach and the apartment compromised, few options remained.
Arriving outside Mr. Garick’s, James pulled Lady Newbury to a halt and hastened her inside the small and cluttered shop where they were met by an older man who was busily dusting off a vase. He looked up when the bell above the door tinkled; peering at them both from behind a pair of spectacles perched on the tip of his knobby nose. “Heaven above,” he said, “is that you, Woodford?”
“Not since I’m not really here,” James replied as he shut the door behind him.
“Then I don’t suppose that she is here either?” Mr. Garick asked, looking at Lady Newbury.
“No. You haven’t seen either of us,” James told him as he guided Lady Newbury past the counter and toward the back of the shop where a large longcase clock stood solidly against the wall. “Can you squeeze through?” he asked Lady Newbury as he opened the front of the clock, revealing an opening to another room where the pendulum ought to have been.
“If you can, then so can I,” she told him decidedly.
“Of course,” he muttered. He waited until she was on the other side, then stepped through himself, angling his much wider shoulders and bowing his head until he too had managed to make his way through. “You can close it back up,” he told Mr. Garick. “Let us know when it’s safe to venture back outside.”
Muttering his agreement, Mr. Garick did as James asked, shutting out most of the light and leaving James and Lady Newbury alone in a room not much bigger than a pantry. Memories of her hands upon him last night as she’d placed the cool compresses across his tender flesh flooded his mind, making him distinctly uncomfortable, in spite of the hazardous situation they were in. At first, when she’d hesitated, he’d thought perhaps he affected her—that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But then she’d gotten on with the task as if it was of no great consequence, even as he’d ached with need, his desire for her increasingly rampant each time her fingers brushed against him.
The torture had persisted throughout the night as she’d come to check on him, which was why he’d risen early and gotten himself dressed before she could come back again. Frankly, he did not trust himself not to pull her down onto the bed with him and remind her of how well their mouths fit against each other and how good it would likely be between them as lovers. Uncertain of how to deal with the situation, he’d risked using her given name earlier today, hoping that it would give her an indication of his growing regard for her. If it had, she’d shown no sign of welcoming it. At least not in the way that he had hoped. Inhaling the dusty air around them, he reminded himself of where they were and what they were up against. It didn’t seem to matter. Somehow, against all reason, his thoughts remained on Lady Newbury’s delectable figure, only a few inches away from him and the possibilities that the tight space presented.
Chapter 20
“I cannot believe that we just escaped through a longcase clock,” Chloe said as she tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness filling the small space behind the clock. Her heart was still skipping along, her nerves on edge with the fear of getting caught.
“A bit unusual even for me, I must confess,” Woodford said. “I’ve made many useful contacts over the years, especially with shopkeepers who are willing to help me with escape plans while I return the favor by paying their rent. Some, like Mr. Garick, have a greater appreciation for the work that I do. I helped his son escape a French prison during the war and ensured his safe passage to England.”
“And all I did was embroider and paint watercolor paintings,” Chloe said, feeling remarkably insignificant.
“You’re a woman,” he told her quietly as he reached toward her, his hand brushing the side of her waist, “a respectable young lady destined to marry a peer.”
“Much good that did me,” she muttered, not the least bit appeased by the excuse he was trying to make for her inaction. His touch made her flinch. She hadn’t expected it and could not help but gasp a little at the shock of energy that rippled through her as a result.
“What else could you have done? The important thing is that you are in a position to help now. I need you, Chloe, and if it weren’t for you, those thugs at the inn would probably have stolen the journal before I even made it to London.”
She allowed a faint smile, loving the sound of her name upon his lips. “If it weren’t for me, you might not have found the journal to begin with.”
“You see!” He removed his hand from her waist, leaving her bereft until she felt his fingers twine with hers as he raised them to his lips. “We make an excellent team, you and I. Don’t you agree?”
She nodded. Her breath hitched a little as he placed another slower kiss against her fingers. “Yes,” she said, realizing he couldn’t see her in the dark.
“I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind?” His breath was warm against her temple as it whispered across her skin. Tentatively, his fingers touched her cheek, gliding across the smooth skin.
“About what?” Her words floated from her mouth like a breath of air while tiny localized shivers erupted all over her skin.
“This,” he murmured. Pulling her toward him and circling her with his arms, he lowered his mouth against hers. Heat washed through her, numbing her mind. She no longer wanted to fight the attraction between them or where it might lead. All she wanted was this wonderful man who was risking his life in pursuit of justice, no matter how much or how little he was willing to give her in return.
For now, all that mattered was that they were here together, stuck in a tiny room. His lips parted and she moaned against him as he deepened the kiss, conquering her mouth with his own. Her arms found their way around his neck just as he pushed her back against the wall, trapping her in his embrace. Freeing one arm, he trailed his hand up along her side until he reached the curve of her breast, gently caressing until her limbs went weak. “You cannot imagine how much I’ve missed you,” he whispered hoarsely against the edge of her mouth.
Voices sounded from beyond the room and Woodford muttered a curse, then placed a finger against Chloe’s lips. She stilled completely, her breaths still heavy from his attentions though her pulse now leapt with anxious beats instead of amorous ones.
Footsteps thudded, so close that if the wall had not been there at her side, Chloe imagined she would be able to reach out and touch whoever stood on the other side of it.
“That’s quite a clock you have there,” a deep voice commented. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen one this size before.” The door to the longcase started to open. Chloe’s fingers curled tight around Woodford’s arm as she anchored herself more firmly to his strength.
“Forget the clock,” another man said, “we have a culprit to find and it doesn’t look like he’s here.” The door to the longcase closed back up. Th
e sound of voices, accompanied by footsteps, grew fainter. Feeling Woodford relax, Chloe allowed herself to do the same.
An interminable amount of time drew by before Woodford finally spoke. “We have to get out of here as soon as possible.”
The door to the longcase opened and Mr. Garick peered in. “If you’d like to leave, now’s your chance. The men following you have continued toward Upper Thames Street, so you should be free to move in the opposite direction.”
“Thank you,” Woodford said, stepping back out into the shop and offering Chloe his hand so she could exit the small room as well. “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our conversation later,” he told her with a roguish glance that heated her cheeks, prompting her to look away. There was no question to what he was referring. But as if he’d not just alluded to kissing her and no doubt doing a whole lot more, he turned to Mr. Garick with gentlemanly aplomb and said, “I really appreciate your help. We both do.”
“After everything you have done for me, it is the least I could do,” Mr. Garick told him with a warm smile and a suspicious shine to his eyes.
They left the cluttered shop as it was getting dark and headed back toward Cheapside, hailing the first available hackney they could find and directing it toward Manchester Street with the intention of stopping by Hainsworth House next.
“Lord Woodford,” Hainsworth’s butler, Mr. Jefferson, said looking slightly surprised when he opened the front door. “I thought you were at Thorncliff Manor together with his lordship.”
“Something came up and we had to return,” James told him. “Have you seen the marquess today by any chance?”
Mr. Jefferson shook his head. “No.” Shifting his gaze to Lady Newbury and back to James again, he said, “What has happened? Is everything all right?”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” James said, hoping to reassure the nervous servant since he didn’t really have a more accurate answer. “Thank you for your time.”
“If he’s missing—”
“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” Turning away from the door, James took Lady Newbury by the arm and steered her back down the front steps and toward the awaiting hackney.
“Perhaps we should check the apartment again, just in case he’s returned,” Lady Newbury suggested as she climbed inside the carriage.
Agreeing with her logic in spite of the potential danger, James issued instructions to the driver and got in as well, deliberately seating himself beside Lady Newbury rather than across from her this time. Without hesitating, he put his arm around her and pulled her close. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered against the top of her head.
Her nod of agreement lacked the conviction she’d had that morning when they’d set out for Mr. Lambert’s house. Since then, three men had lost their lives while she herself had been relentlessly pursued by villains. Lack of faith at this point was to be expected, especially considering Hainsworth’s disappearance as well. James’s chest tightened with concern. Hopefully the marquess would turn up unharmed. The thought of losing him as well . . . it didn’t bear thinking about.
They alit on Upper Guildford Street and climbed the stairs to the apartment. James went first, ready to attack any lingering culprits. Edging forward, pistol in hand, he approached the banged-up door to his compromised safe house. He gestured for Lady Newbury to stay back while he entered, scouring the front room to make sure it was empty. A groan sounded from somewhere along the hallway. He moved toward it, shards of glass crunching beneath the soles of his boots. Behind him, he heard Lady Newbury righting a chair. The entire place was in complete disarray. The men who’d chased them had clearly returned for a thorough ransacking.
At the door to his bedchamber, James braced himself against the wall, reached out and nudged the door open. It swung back, revealing the hunched-over body of a man. “Hainsworth?”
The marquess looked up in surprise. “Woodford!” He moved to rise but winced with the effort.
“You’re hurt,” James said, noticing the cut on Hainsworth’s trousers and the dark patch of blood around it. Sticking his head back out into the hallway where Lady Newbury waited for him to confirm that the place was safe, he said, with a great deal of relief, “It’s all right. Hainsworth is here, just as you guessed he would be.”
She expelled a deep breath. “Thank God!”
He couldn’t have agreed more. Turning back to face Hainsworth, James crouched down before him. “What happened?” he asked.
Hainsworth shook his head. He looked slightly dazed. “I was just exiting Carlton House after delivering the letter you wrote to the king, when two men came out of nowhere. I fought them off as well as I could, but one of them managed to stab me in the thigh before I could get away.
“I waited until it was dark before daring to come back here and informing you of what had happened. When I saw the state the place was in, I imagined the worst.” His eyes shimmered slightly as he spoke. Leaning forward, he placed his hand heavily against James’s shoulder. “If anything were to happen to you, I don’t know what I would do.”
James nodded. “We can’t stay here. The threat of these men returning is far too great.” Dropping his gaze to Hainsworth’s leg, he said, “We’ll also have to take a look at your wound.”
“It’s just a graze,” Hainsworth said.
“I doubt that,” James told him.
“Where do you suggest we go?” Lady Newbury asked, appearing in the doorway. She nodded to Hainsworth in greeting. “I’m glad to see you again, my lord.”
“And I you,” he said with a smile. Looking to James he said, “There’s the house that I keep on Red Lion Square. It’s not too far from here, and it’s discreet. Few people know that I own it.”
“Your mistresses,” James muttered. He took a moment to consider the idea. “If you can guarantee that our presence there will go unnoticed, then I believe it might be our best option. Lady Newbury and I need a quiet place in which to decode the journal. Until that’s done, we’re blindly fighting an unknown enemy.”
“How did your visit to Lambert’s go?” Hainsworth asked. “Was he able to help you?”
James shook his head. “Lambert is dead.” Helping Hainsworth back onto his feet, he gave a quick summary of what had happened.
“Aside from the fact that the king has asked you to uncover the identities of The Electors, I know how important it is to you for your own personal reasons.” He put his arm around James’s shoulder for support while Lady Newbury led the way back out of the apartment. “But considering everything that has already happened in just a couple of days, you have to ask yourself if it’s worth it.”
“Are you suggesting I give up?” James asked, appalled by the notion.
“If you destroy the journal, then—”
“We’ll never know who killed my parents, Lady Newbury’s grandfather, or the Earl of Duncaster. Mr. Lambert’s death will be for nothing.” He stopped in the middle of the floor and stared at Hainsworth. “You cannot be serious?”
“I just don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of it.”
James understood his reasoning, in a way. He was obviously worried. “As long as The Electors are allowed to roam free, people will continue to get hurt. They have to be stopped. Once and for all.”
“I hope this will do,” Hainsworth said a short while later as he showed James and Lady Newbury into the parlor of the narrow townhouse where he conducted his affairs. “There’s a study through there that I haven’t spent very much time in,” he added, pointing toward a door at the end of the room. “Please feel free to make use of it. You should find everything that you need there: paper, quills and inkwells.”
“Thank you,” Lady Newbury said. “Your hospitality is much appreciated, my lord.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Hainsworth told her, then added, “There are four bedrooms ups
tairs. Mine is at the end of the hallway. You may choose which ones you’d like to use for yourselves.”
“Sleep will have to wait,” James said as he strode further into the parlor and headed toward the door to the study. Opening it, he peeked inside, pleased by the sight of a large desk and two comfortable armchairs. “As soon as we’ve taken care of your leg injury, I plan to get to work.”
“I’ll be fine,” Hainsworth said with a snort. “A brandy is all I need.”
“We should at least clean the wound,” Lady Newbury said. “I’ll go and take a look at the bedrooms while you help him with that, Woodford.”
James watched her go. Setting his satchel down in the study, he then went to the sideboard and poured three large tumblers. He handed one to Hainsworth.
“I see that you have completely disregarded my advice,” Hainsworth said, taking a sip of his drink.
Lowering himself into the seat adjacent to Hainsworth, James put the extra glass aside on the table in front of him and followed suit. “I presume you’re referring to Lady Newbury?”
“Oakland will never forgive us if anything happens to her and neither will Spencer. What the hell were you thinking, bringing her along?”
“She’s able to help, and besides, she threatened to come to London on her own otherwise. At least this way I am able to protect her.”
Hainsworth shook his head. “I don’t like it, Woodford. She’s a liability and you know it.”
Frowning, James stared into his glass. Swirling it slightly, he watched as the amber liquid lapped softly against the sides. “Nothing is going to happen to her.” He had to believe that.
“Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn’t give up the journal if her life were threatened?”
Raising his head, James stared back at the man who’d taught him how to box and fence before he’d been old enough to frequent Gentleman Jackson’s or Angelo’s School of Arms. He owed his exemplary skills with a pistol to Hainsworth—all those hours of target shooting at his country estate had served him well over the years. The activity had also helped him mourn the loss of his parents, and after that, it had driven him toward a new goal. “I would find a way to save her without giving up the journal, even if I were to die trying.”
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