Chapter 3 #2
“All right,” she said, a smile blooming on her lips. “In that case, Your Grace, I accept.”
Preparations for the trip took longer than Gregory would have liked, but there was much to do and the delay was unavoidable.
After breakfast, he ordered a bag packed and his plain black carriage readied for the trip then dashed off a note to his man of affairs letting him know their meeting would be postponed until his return.
Lady Dunne, of course, would need her own bag readied, but as she could not return to her townhouse for fear Lord Lovelace would be waiting there, they devised a plan to send one of his servants—dressed in plain garb—with a note for her maid, instructing her to pack a bag for her mistress.
The maid would then deliver the bag to a shop on Bond Street—which was apparently owned and operated by a friend of Lady Dunne’s—where it would be waiting for them to collect on their way out of London.
It was nearing the one o’clock hour when they finally set off, and as the carriage headed for Bond Street, Gregory wondered if they were perhaps being a trifle paranoid, but all he had to do was think of Lovelace’s hard eyes and he discarded the notion.
The man had looked capable of violence, and the last thing he wanted was a man like that following them.
The carriage wheels clattered noisily as they ambled up the street, though not noisy enough to drown out the wind whistling at the window, asking to come in.
Autumn had always been his favorite season. He loved the cool, crisp air, the changing leaves, the skies dotted with puffy clouds, buffeted by the wind like ships at sea.
His mother would not be pleased with him when she received the note he’d sent her. He’d told her he was going away for a few days, but he’d not said where.
He didn’t want her following them, either.
He knew what she’d say about all of this, that he was being foolish, that this wasn’t his concern, that he couldn’t help everyone who came to him with a problem.
And perhaps she was right. Perhaps he should mind his own business.
He was a duke with many responsibilities that kept him more than busy.
He could have made arrangements for someone else to look after Lady Dunne.
He could have ignored her altogether when he came upon her on the street that night.
But he hadn’t and he did not regret his decision. She’d needed his help that night and she needed his help now. He might be a duke, but he was also a man, a man with a conscience and the means and power to do some good in the world.
“Here we are,” Lady Dunne said as the carriage rolled to a stop outside a tidy little shop bearing a sign which read, in elegant script: Madame Adelasia’s Fashion Boutique.
Gregory passed his gaze over the storefront and surrounding pavement. There were carriages everywhere, and people, too, walking with packages, peering in windows, meeting on the pavement and pausing to chat.
“I do hope Betsy packed everything I’ll need,” Lady Dunne murmured. “My maid is a sweet girl, but she isn’t always the brightest penny in the purse. Perhaps I should have—”
Her words cut off with a choking gasp and then she slumped low in her seat, dropping like an undercooked souffle.
“What are you doing?” Gregory asked.
“Get down,” she ordered in a hushed voice.
He did as she commanded, ducking beneath the window as best he could.
“What are we doing?” he tried again, this time in a whisper.
“We’re hiding, of course. I thought I saw Lord Lovelace.”
He frowned, resisting the urge to pop his head out the window to look for himself. “Where?”
“A little ways up the walk. He was standing alone on the pavement, looking in one of the shop windows. I couldn’t see his face, so I don’t know for certain, but I–I think it was him.”
His gaze met hers as she worried her lower lip with her teeth, and he could tell by the expression on her face that she was almost certain the man she’d seen was Lovelace.
Bollocks.
They’d tried to be careful, but there was every possibility that the man had followed Lady Dunne’s maid from her townhouse to the shop.
“Did he see you?” Gregory asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t believe so. But if he had, wouldn’t he have approached us by now?”
“Yes, probably.” But not definitely. “He might also be watching for us, intending to follow.”
Lady Dunne frowned. “Damn.”
Gregory reached an arm out the window facing the street and thumped the door with his fist twice to draw his driver’s attention.
John’s broad face appeared in the window a moment later, his brow furrowed in confusion at seeing the occupants spread out across the bench seats.
“I want you to drive on, John, slow and easy,” Gregory instructed. “Once you’re certain we have not been followed, stop the carriage someplace where we won’t be observed.”
John nodded his understanding and a moment later, the carriage set off up Bond Street with a jolting start.
“Now what?” Lady Dunne asked, sitting up in her seat as Gregory did the same. “Do we leave my belongings behind and press on?” She frowned, clearly unhappy with the idea.
Gregory tugged his waistcoat in place and considered what they should do next. He had little experience with subterfuge, but he’d been schooled from a young age in the art of problem-solving. This problem could be solved, he simply needed a moment to think on it.
“I think I have an idea,” he said a few minutes later just as the carriage drew to a stop on a quiet residential street.
“What is it?” Lady Dunne asked, but just then John appeared at the window, and Gregory spent the next minute relaying a new set of instructions to his driver.
When he’d finished, John nodded then set off on foot to see the errand done.
“I hope this works,” Lady Dunne said, her eyes impatient.
“So do I.”
He sat back in his seat and hooked an ankle atop the other knee, fighting the urge to fidget. John was on his way back to the shop, where he would instruct the lady shopkeeper to wrap Lady Dunne’s valise in brown paper, thus giving the illusion that it was a shop purchase out for delivery.
It wasn’t a foolproof plan by any means, but it was the best he could come up with. He wished he could assuage Lady Dunne’s fears and tell her everything would be all right, but how could he make such a promise? He had no way of knowing if it was true, and he’d never been very good at lying.
“Does Lovelace know you have a sister in Cheshire?”
He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to ask this before, but it only now occurred to him.
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied after a moment’s thought. “I cannot recall ever mentioning it to him.”
Gregory nodded, his mind working. “Even so, I think we should play it safe and change our plan. If we take an indirect route to Cheshire, it will take us longer to get there, but it should make it harder for him to follow.”
“I agree.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I realize this is more than you had bargained for.”
Gregory gave her a reassuring smile. “Please don’t apologize. I only hope we can get you to your sister’s without incident,” he said. “And that some time apart will cool the viscount’s...ardor.”
Lady Dunne scoffed. “Ardor. It’s his pride that’s been affected, that’s all. I didn’t know it before now, but he’s the sort of man who does not like to be rejected.”
“I don’t know of any man who does,” Gregory said. “We are a prideful lot, I’m afraid.”
A laugh huffed from her lips. “But not all of you react to rejection by throwing a tantrum.”
“True.”
“He knew from the beginning that our affair would be brief. I told him so, before it even began. I said I would not be his mistress, that our arrangement would be casual and short-lived.” She sighed. “Stupid man.”
She looked at him as if intending to say more, but the moment she met his gaze, the irritation on her face gave way to puzzlement. “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his cheeks heating as he realized he was staring. “It’s only that the women I know rarely speak so openly. I’m…not accustomed to it.”
“If you’re trying to tell me I should guard my tongue, it’s no use,” she said, a wry smile on her lips. “I’ve tried, but I’m afraid it cannot be done.”
He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was saying. I like that you speak your mind.”
She cocked her head to one side and regarded him for a moment. “My husband always told me my bluntness was one of the things he loved best about me. I was never sure I believed him, either.”
This was the second time she’d mentioned her husband, and Gregory had noted the fondness in her voice, the affection in her eyes. She’d clearly cared for the man, but had she loved him?
Did she love him still?
And why did he want to know?
He wasn’t sure why it mattered to him, only that it did. Very much.
“Well, you can believe me,” he said lightly, even as he struggled to shove the serious thoughts away. “I like your bluntness, and I never lie.”
She inclined her head with an amused smile. “Then I thank you for the compliment, Your Grace.”
“Considering all we’ve been through, I think you can call me Gregory.”
She nodded. “And you must call me Justina.”
“Justina it is.”
He liked the feel of her name on his tongue, and the tiny thrill that shot through him at the informality.
They looked at each other for a long moment, smiling like new friends, then Lady Dunne—Justina—turned to face the window again. Gregory did the same, staring out at the autumn day while they awaited John’s return, though his thoughts were firmly on the intriguing woman beside him.