Elizabeth Boyle (33 page)

Dropping her armload of silk skirts and undergarments on the bed, Sophia paused. “Do you think he will forgive me?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder, her face strangely sad. “I hope so. For all our sakes.”

Bath society, Giles discovered, was every bit as boring as the company in London. Probably because it was made up of much the same silly, pointless people.

The spacious room at the Guildhall was crowded and packed with a wide variety of spectators. In Bath, unlike in London, anyone with money for a ticket could vie for attention in the public room. It made it all that much more comical to watch the people aping what they assumed was the behavior of their betters.

Even after the music began, people continued talking and seeking out advantageous introductions to whomever was new to town.

Monty, though for the most part protected from the worst of the fortune hunters by the territorial Lady Fischer, quickly became the most sought-out guest. As a duke without a duchess, he was a catch that had even the most reserved mothers pushing their awkward daughters forward.

Giles nodded to the occasional friend and every few minutes glanced moodily at his pocket watch. If only he could come up with an excuse to leave early and return to Larkhall Manor.

Though Lady Larkhall’s opinion carried a great deal of weight with him, he also knew that his little bride-to-be was the leading mistress of deception. He’d seen her play her illness role before, only that time he’d believed it. Now he wasn’t so willing to fall for her trap.

There was only one way to find out, he reasoned, as he started for the door.

“I say, my lord,” an older gentleman called out. “Is that you, young Trahern?”

Giles turned to find Admiral Griffey pulling his angular frame out from a chair.

The old man, one of Giles’s father’s best friends, held out his weathered, wiry hand in greeting. “It is you, you young rake! Look at you, you remind me of your father when he was your age. Back when we first met in the troubles with the Dutch.”

Giles nodded politely. He respected the Admiral too much to be rude. “It’s good to see you, sir. I didn’t know you were here in town.”

“I’ve come to take the waters. My lady wife has it in her head that after forty-some years at sea, more water will cure my aches and pains.” The man nodded to an elderly woman in a starched lace cap and an even stiffer dark dress. “I try to tell her it was all those years adrift that put these blasted agues in my bones and more water is no solution. And these baths? Bah, nothing more than a public exhibition of bare limbs. Not anything like being at sea. Why, I remember old Captain Langston from the
Righteous
used to say—”

“Did you say Captain Langston?” Giles interrupted.

“Why, yes. Captain Howland Langston. You know him?”

Know him?
Giles felt another piece of the puzzle falling in place. “No, I never
knew
him,” he answered carefully.

“Knew him? What are you talking about? I had dinner with him and his latest bride just last month in Dover. Won’t travel outside the sight of the sea. Have you heard something different?” Admiral Griffey leaned forward. “I warned the fool that taking a third wife was asking for trouble, but the man can’t resist. This latest one is young enough to be his granddaughter. The old goat. Watch him if he doesn’t sire a whole new batch of children with the silly little chit.”

“Must have been my mistake,” Giles said.
Believing anything either of those two women said
, he wanted to add.

He wondered what Lady Fischer would say about finding Mrs. Langston’s husband returned from his watery grave. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be much of a shock to Emma.

Admiral Griffey continued his gossipy monologue while Giles chewed this latest piece of information.

So if Emma wasn’t the Widow Langston, who was she?

It seemed to Giles that every time he answered one question about the Brazen Angel and her entourage, ten more popped up in their place.

“Admiral,” he interrupted again. “I’m afraid I was just leaving. My betrothed was unable to attend this evening due to a sudden illness. I was returning early to see how she fares.”

“I heard you were to be married, and to the daughter of one of the Ramsey sisters.” The old man grinned and jabbed Giles with his elbow. “I hope she favors Mellisande. Ah, what a beauty, that one.”

Giles knew all the signs. The man’s eyes glossed over and he was about to launch into a long-winded tale about the legendary lady and her nefarious misdeeds.

What had his staid and stoic father been thinking to align him to such a family of hoyden women?

But then again, Giles reflected, life with Sophia would never be dull.

After politely listening to another half hour of the Admiral’s requisite tales, Giles was finally able to excuse himself and return to Larkhall Manor.

Quietly, he passed through the house. When his knock at Sophia’s door went unanswered, he pushed it open a few inches.

“Sophia? Mrs. Langston?” he called out, already pretty sure of what he would find.

An empty room.

He looked first at the unmade bed, covered in discarded items of clothing, then to the chaos of powder and pots on the dressing table. She’d left in quite a hurry.

Crossing the room, he unknotted his fists and laid a finger on the pane of glass. Why had he let this happen? He should have insisted that he stay behind—if not in her room, then somewhere in the house.

Now there was no telling where she’d gone or with whom.

He shook his head and looked around. He knew one thing: She planned on returning, and before her aunt and the rest of their party was due to arrive home. She had no choice, because the first thing Lady Larkhall would do was check on her condition.

But she wouldn’t be returning to a cold and empty room, he decided. Pulling up a chair, he settled in by the window to watch the driveway. She’d have to come home soon, and then there would some explaining to do.

The robbery of Lord Percy went off without a mishap.

Well pleased with her success, Sophia climbed out the window and tiptoed through His Lordship’s prized rose garden. Slipping out the back gate that let into the alley behind his fashionable town house on the Crescent, she grinned as Oliver brought the carriage out of the shadows.

Jumping in, she settled down across from Emma and smiled.

Emma didn’t look all that happy.

“Don’t look so glum,” Sophia chided. She held up her prizes. “More than enough to see my parents released.”

“I just think . . .” Emma crossed her arms over her chest and she looked out the window.

“Think what?” Sophia had never seen Emma like this. Since her first outing as the Brazen Angel, the woman’s confidence and experience had given Sophia the necessary nerve she needed to complete some of her more daring robberies. Leaning back in her seat, she began stripping off her elaborate finery, starting with her mask.

“You think I should allow Lord Trahern to find my parents, don’t you?”

Emma nodded. “I have one of those black feelings about this trip. I don’t like it. Let the man do what he was trained to do. His own father told you he was the best, and you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Let him do this. Don’t take this final risk. Let the man help you.” She paused. “I fear it will be your last.”

Closing her mouth to halt a quick denial, Sophia instead turned away.

“Every night I see the scaffolding in the square. I see the tumbrils rolling down the streets. But the only person I see being harmed, being torn apart by those fiends, is Giles. I can’t let that happen. He musn’t return to Paris.”

“Then don’t go alone. Take me with you.”

Sophia took a deep breath. “Emma, I know you’re concerned, but you also know why you have to stay behind. You must convince Giles I’ve gone to York to gain my aunt Mellisande’s assistance. He might believe you, and he may just travel there before he learns the truth. That will put him three, maybe four days behind me. I’ll be in Paris and have my parents free before he can cross the Channel.”

Emma looked unconvinced. “I don’t like the idea of you leaving without me. Why not wait? By the time your aunt arrives home you’ll have only a few hours of darkness to hide your trail. You’d be better off waiting for tomorrow evening. You could plead off early, and we would be long gone before anyone discovered us missing. With eight to ten hours of night in which to travel, Lord Trahern won’t have any idea in which direction we’ve gone.”

“No. I can’t allow you to go any more than I can let Giles.”

Emma’s dark eyes flickered. “Sophia, if you don’t take me, I’ll tell that man the truth. I’ll tell where you are going, what route you are taking.” She paused, her jaw set in determination. “I’ll tell him you’re carrying his child.”

Sophia gasped. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“It might be, but he’d catch you before you left the shire.” Emma leaned back in her seat. “Now, which plan do you want to follow?”

Knowing full well that Giles would have her locked in Byrnewood before dawn if Emma carried out her dire threat, Sophia decided to acquiesce. At least for the moment. “Yours. I suppose you may be right, Emma. If I’m home tonight, maybe he’ll relax his guard enough to give us the time we need to get away. ‘Tis a better idea.”

Emma nodded her head in agreement, looking well pleased at not being left behind. She tossed over a cloth. “Best get that mess off your face. We’ll be home soon.”

By the time Sophia removed most of her paint and powder, Oliver had brought the carriage near the house, depositing Sophia and Emma on the road not far from the Larkhall wilderness. The pair stole silently across the garden and into the house through a side door they’d left unlocked.

They bid each other good night, and Sophia made her way back to her sickbed, while Emma took up her post in the library to await Lady Larkhall’s return.

While she’d agreed in principle with Emma’s plan, she had no intention of following it. Emma would remain safe, just as Giles would, Sophia decided as she made her way up the staircase.

Once her aunt and Giles looked in and determined she was resting comfortably, she would sneak back to the carriage and be off to the packet ship waiting at the coast.

With luck, Emma’s assurances that Sophia was sleeping soundly and shouldn’t be disturbed would stave off the need for another performance.

Into her dark room she crept, realizing as she tripped over a discarded gown that she would need to clean it up a bit before getting into bed. She froze in the middle of the room when a tall shadowy figure rose from the corner.

“Feeling better?” Giles asked, stepping into the light.

Sophia looked down at the expensive gown she wore and the telltale mask in her hand. “I thought perhaps a walk might—”

He cut her off by crossing the room, catching her by the arm, and holding up the hand that still clutched the white mask. “Don’t insult me. Now, where is it?”

“Where is what?” she asked.

“Whatever you stole tonight. Where is it and from whom did you take it?”

Giles knew all-too-well the stubborn expression on Sophia’s face. It meant it would be difficult—if not impossible—to get the information he wanted. He let go of her and crossed the room closing the door and twisting the key in the lock. “Now tell me what you’ve planned or I will cart you to Byrnewood tonight and see you locked in the tower room for a month.”

She stood rigid and silent, the gold embroidery on her gown shimmering in the candlelight.

She was infuriating in her stubbornness. She refused to trust him enough to allow herself to accept his help. He could not let her endanger herself any more than she could turn her back on her parents.

Then the truth behind her family’s motto struck him.

Nothing is difficult to one who loves.

His anger dissipated as he realized he’d driven her to this—sneaking out at night to secure her own ends because of her misplaced fears for his safety. She thought nothing of risking her life to save those she loved, including him.

But it was time she learned that love was worthy of such selfless sacrifice only when it was shared by two people.

“If you insist on going to Paris, I’m going with you.”

Her face turned, her suspicions evident in her narrow gaze. “No.”

“Then I’ll follow you,” he said. “Isn’t it better to know where I am than to wait tensely for me to appear out of nowhere? I could blunder in and destroy your cover as I did at Danton’s. So, you see, you have to take me with you.”

Sophia shook her head, sadness filling her every word. “If I do, you’ll perish.”

And you’ll think I betrayed you.
Images of her dream circled around her. She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the terrifying images.

Even with them closed, she couldn’t wipe the image of his blood-soaked body from her tortured imagination.

“And what of yourself, Sophia?” he whispered into her ear. “Who will keep you safe? Who will keep your neck free of the blade’s wrath?”

Her eyes fluttered open. He stood within inches of her. “I won’t let you die,” she said.

“I have no intention of going to Paris to be killed.
We’re
going to save your parents.” His hands gently plied her shoulders, turning her to face him. Playfully, he plucked at the wig on her head. “From this day forth it will always be us. Not just you or just me, but us. We are bound together as surely as if we were wed. But if I were to die, just once before then I would like to see you unmasked, unclothed, and free of these layers you use to shut me out.”

Sophia’s nerves tingled under his touch, her body recognizing his request by leaning closer to him. How could she help but want to be with him?

His hand cupped her chin, tipping her face upward so his lips could join hers in a kiss.

The moment his mouth touched hers, Sophia knew she was lost. She’d give him anything if he would never stop kissing her. His lips nibbled at hers until his tongue moved forward, tangling with hers.

Oh, she wanted one more night in Giles’s arms. She tried to tell herself it was only to thank him for saving her family, it was only for his offer to come with her to Paris, but it was more than that.