Page 85 of An Inconvenient Duke

“Two of the men guarding the house followed after her, and one stayed behind in case she returns,” Merritt informed him. “They won’t let her out of their sight.”

The words swam on the page before Marcus’s eyes as his gut squeezed so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. “She’s been tricked,” he rasped out.Christ. “It’s a trap!” He threw the note at Clayton and charged toward the front door.

Pearce appeared in the dining room doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve been found out. Somehow Hartsham learned what we’d planned, and he’s lured Danielle away.” Marcus jerked on his coat and gloves. “I’m going after her.”

“I’m coming with you.” Pearce strode over to the entry hall table, yanked open the drawer, and withdrew a brace of pistols. “Once a soldier—”

“Always a soldier,” Merritt finished, reaching into his coat to hand one of his own pistols to Marcus, then slapped him on the back and headed with Pearce toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Gratitude tightened Marcus’s throat. But there was no time for emotion. He ordered Clayton, “Stay here and question that woman.” The glance he sent into the dining room was murderous. “And God help her if she lies.” Or if one hair on Dani’s head was harmed.

The three men raced outside into the rainy, black night.

From the doorway, Clayton stared after them for a moment, then signaled to one of his men standing watch outside the town house to come inside and guard the door. Then he walked into the dining room, pulled up a chair facing the woman, and sat down, noting how her eyes flickered with fear.

He gave her his best charming smile to put her at ease. “Good evening, ma’am. We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Clayton Elliott, Undersecretary for the Home Office.” He offered her a cup of tea from the tray sitting on the table. “Shall we talk?”

Twenty-Six

“We don’t have time for this,” Mrs. Slater grumbled as Dani called up to the driver to stop so they could change carriages a second time.

“I insist. Beatrice will be fine for the extra time this will take us.” She gathered up her skirts. “But none of us will be if the men from the brothel somehow managed to track you to my house and are following after us now.”

She stepped down from the carriage. Tossing a coin to the driver, she took Mrs. Slater’s arm and led the woman across the busy Covent Garden street where she waved down a hackney headed in the opposite direction. Anyone who might be following them in a carriage wouldn’t be able to turn around on the crowded street and chase after them. “St Paul’s Cathedral,” she ordered the new driver and ducked as she entered the small compartment. “Hurry, please.”

“But we’re not going that far,” Mrs. Slater challenged, her voice riddled through with growing exasperation as the horse started forward before they were properly seated.

“No, we’re not.” Dani watched out the window as the lights of the theatre district slipped past as the carriage rolled east. “We’ll stop before then and walk to the warehouse, doubling back two or three streets to make certain we don’t lead anyone to Beatrice and the girl.”

“You’ve done this before, then.”

“Countless times,” she whispered into the darkness beyond the window. But for once when she thought about the women, the crushing burden didn’t weigh down on her shoulders. The end was in sight, even if she had to travel through the dark night—and change carriages three times—to arrive there. “We’ll put the girl under a hooded cloak and take her to the Golden Bell, where hopefully one of the men will be waiting to take her out of London.”

“What men?” Panic edged Mrs. Slater’s voice.

Dani glanced at her. Even through the shadows, Dani thought she saw Mrs. Slater grow pale. “The men I contacted about the girl.”

Then the woman’s face turned absolutely white. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s all right. I’ve worked with them before. They can be trusted, for the right price.” At least she prayed that they could. The memory of how Kimball had attacked her in that alley teased uneasily at the back of her mind. “We’ll hand the girl over to them to smuggle out of London and back to Manchester and her family. Then you and Beatrice won’t be caught up in this any longer.”

Mrs. Slater turned her face toward the opposite window, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. “I hope so.”

So did Dani.

When the carriage drew near to Fleet Street, she opened the window, popped out her head, and glanced down the street—empty. No one had followed them. She banged her fist on the wall of the carriage and called out to the driver to stop.

“Quickly,” she ordered Mrs. Slater, nearly pushing the woman outside. She handed the full fare to the driver and ordered, “Drive on to St Paul’s.”

Then she grabbed her arm and pulled her into a nearby alley. No one was in the dark street to see them leave the carriage and disappear into the darkness, and anyone who might have been chasing farther behind would have followed the hackney onward to the east. They wouldn’t realize they’d been tricked until the carriage reached St Paul’s.

Dani led Mrs. Slater from one alley to another, their path further concealed by the thickening fog and drizzling rain. Within minutes, they were hidden in the rabbit warren of alleyways and streets snaking along the Thames. She motioned for Mrs. Slater to stay silent as they doubled back along the Strand to once more head toward Fleet Street. In the past four years, Dani had put down a wild goose chase through London so many times that doing so had become second nature to her. But it was also a skill she didn’t intend to call upon again after tonight.

Finally, she pointed down one last dark alley. Mrs. Slater hesitated, then followed warily between the brick buildings to an old abandoned warehouse, the one she’d used often for Nightingale.

“Here?” Dani whispered to make certain Beatrice hadn’t taken refuge in the wrong building.