Page 49 of How the Earl Entices

He bowed over her hand and mumbled earnestly, “Me, too.”

Chapter 14

Grace heard the midnight bell from All Saints peel through the rain-dampened streets along the Chelsea Embankment as the hackney stopped at the alley behind Cheyne Walk. Ross opened the door and swung to the ground, then reached a hand back into the dark compartment for her. She stepped down carefully, then glanced uneasily at the terrace houses fronting the Thames, most of which were already shuttered and locked up tight for the night.

Ross tossed a coin to the driver and sent the man off. He waited for the carriage to disappear from sight before taking her arm and leading her down the alley.

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

“Someplace safe.”

She heaved out an irritated sigh. That was the same answer he’d been giving her since they arrived in Richmond that afternoon by post-chaise. He’d refused to be more forthcoming even when he’d sent off a message just before evening, not telling her whom he was contacting except that the man was an old friend. Then they’d settled into a room at an inn and waited, with Grace filling the time by writing and posting a long letter to Ethan to tell him that she was in London and safe.

Then, two hours ago, under the cover of darkness, they’d hired a hackney to take them into the city. He hadn’t told her the exact location of where they were headed then, either. Or after they’d switched carriages two times so that the same driver who delivered them to their final destination wouldn’t be able to trace them back to the inn.

Well, she knew where theyweren’tgoing—not to Spalding House nor the residences of any of his relatives. Those would all be watched. Just as they couldn’t risk renting a room now that they were in London, where an opportunistic landlady or innkeeper might recognize him and call for the watch. But an alley in Chelsea…She hadn’t expectedthis.

“We’ve arrived.” He stopped outside one of the carriage houses.

She looked up at the two-story façade, with its massive double-doors and large fanlight and saw nothing to identify the place. “Where?”

“Domenico Vincenzo’s studio,” a deep voice answered.

Grace grabbed at Ross’s arm in surprise as a black form emerged from the shadows.

But Ross recognized the man, who was nearly as tall and broad-shouldered as he was, and extended his hand in greeting. “Ellsworth.”

“Spalding,” he returned tightly and shook his hand.

The man was clearly not happy to be called into service, certainly not at such a late hour. And not dressed as he was, in evening finery that proclaimed he’d been interrupted from a night at a society event, right down to the silver and gray striped satin waistcoat and diamond cravat pin.

He gestured a white-gloved hand down the alley. “You weren’t followed?”

“No.”

The man swung his gaze to Grace and raked an assessing look over her. Then he turned his head slightly to ask Ross, his eyes not leaving her, “Can she keep secrets?”

“You’d be surprised how well,” Ross drawled with a touch of private amusement.

She glared daggers at him.

But the stranger was satisfied. He walked up to the wicket gate set into the carriage doors and reached into his breast pocket for the key to the padlock. He unlocked it, and the door opened with a creak. He disappeared inside.

Grace clutched Ross’s hand to stop him as he began to follow. “Who is he?”

“Dominick Mercer, Marquess of Ellsworth. An old friend from university.”

Unease trailed down her spine. Another peer, another man who might recognize her. “Can he be trusted?”

He leaned over to whisper, “You’re not the only one keeping a secret identity, Mrs. Alden. Ellsworth will do whatever it takes to keep his hidden from the world.”

Her eyes widened. “Youblackmailedhim?”

He grinned. “I learned from the best.”

She scowled at him. But as he shifted away, he brushed his lips opportunistically over her cheek, eliciting a tremor from her. Then he took her elbow and led her inside, closing the wicket after them.

A spark flared as a flint struck on the far side of the room, and an oil lamp hissed to life. Ellsworth hung the lamp from a peg on the central post. As he turned up the wick, the dim halo of light grew in brightness to reveal a large room that had once been a carriage house but now served as—