Chapter 10
Normanton House, later that evening
The ladies left the men to their port for tea in the music room. While there, Dee accepted well wishes for her mother’s quick recovery. As soon as she could, she took Lady Beatrix aside to a far corner.
“I need your help.” Dee wished with all her heart she could confide in Fontus, but Barbeau would suspect. She had no idea which of the footmen might report any encounter with Fontus.
“Of course.”
“First, you must act as if I am sharing an amusing story.”
Lady Beatrix gave a sly glance and waved a hand. “Oh, la, Lady Deoiridh, I’ve never heard such a thing.”
Dee smiled. “Perfect. What I tell you must remain in strictest confidence, until you can inform Lord Fontus.”
“My lips are sealed.” The lady added a giggle to emphasize the part she played.
“I must leave.”
“Oh no, really?” The question was perfectly pitched to indicate amazement at someone’s outrageous behavior.
“Indeed.” Dee lowered her voice for Lady Beatrix’s ears alone.
The Danvers sisters approached as Dee finished her explanation and stood.
“Good night, Lady Deoiridh,” said Lady Beatrix, smiling.
“You cannot be leaving us this early,” Abigail Danvers protested.
“We were hoping you would share with us the amusing tale you told to Lady Beatrix,” Prudence said.
“I regret, I cannot,” Dee replied. “I must attend my mother.”
“I will happily share the story with you,” Beatrix volunteered.
“Well then.” Abigail nodded. “We will wish you a good evening.”
“God speed your mother’s recovery,” Prudence added.
Dee left, giving her excuses to Lady Somerville.
As instructed, she stole a cloak, the rattiest most worn-out garment she could find.
Then leaving by a side door, she dashed to the cottage where she kept the pistols received from her father.
Barbeau did not know she had lived in the cottage, and even if someone informed him where she’d gone, she doubted he would suspect anything, since the cottage was unoccupied for the evening.
All too soon, she was seated beside him in his curricle, bowling along at a rate far too great for a dark country road.
He’d not said a word when handing her up and had remained silent, focused on guiding the horses with as much speed as possible.
Clouds scudded over the moon, gathering in clumps. The surrounding woods thickened to a dense forest, plunging the dark night into pitch black. The wind picked up. The air smelled of rain to come.
Would a storm help or hinder Barbeau? She supposed all was a matter of timing. Could he get her and her mother away before any storm kept them landbound, before Fontus could arrive with help, before she could bring one of her pistols into play?
Had Lady Beatrix delivered her message? Was Fontus even now searching for her? Would he find the bits of fabric she managed to tear from the cloak she’d stolen? Barbeau’s concentration on driving made it easy for her to leave the trail. He never saw what she did.