“I have already written a letter to Mr. Grimm asking him to consider selling to me. So we hadbetterfind a way to get the money.” Bonnie stepped back and glanced toward the door. “Iamnervous about you traveling all the way to York. It could be dangerous.”
“I will be fine. I look very different from normal, do I not?”
Tiffany brushed her palms down the front of her rough woolen skirt, then checked in the mirror once more to ensure the lumpybrown shawl they’d borrowed from Mrs. Oliphant made her look as shapeless as possible. Her oldest blouse, and one of the dirty caps Mother used to make Ember wear to hide her hair, completed the disguise. She and Bonnie had even rubbed a little ash along her jawline and cheekbones, and even under her eyes, to make her look gaunter.
“Yes, you do,” chuckled her sister from where she peeked out into the corridor. “But appearances are not everything, remember. Did you find a companion?”
Tiffany hesitated, knowing her sister wouldn’t approve of her choice. She wasn’t even certainsheapproved of her choice. “I did. We will meet at the station.”
Bonnie was distracted and didn’t ask who would be traveling with her, thank goodness. “Good. Everything looks clear out here. And in here…”
They both glanced toward the bed where a combination of pillows and a counterpane had been arranged to look like Tiffany was still sleeping under the blanket.
“Do you think she will fall for it?” Tiffany whispered.
Bonnie knew exactly whichshemattered. “You know Mother is content to allow us to recover in peace. I shall just tell her your cramps are particularly bad this month, and you do not want to be bothered by noise or light or pampering. Just let you die in peace, oh the pain, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Thank goodness for menses, eh?” Tiffany asked drily.
“Every two years or so they become useful as an excuse, but that does not make up for the pain in the arse they are the other twenty-three months.”
“Pain in the ovaries, I think you mean.”
Bonnie snorted, then glanced out the cracked-open door and gestured. “Alright, your escape is clear. Go now, but remember, I can only stall Mother for three days, no more!”
“Yes, and my thanks,” Tiffany hissed in a whisper, as she picked up the carpetbag they’d found in the attic and slipped by her sister.
She made it out of the inn without encountering anyone who recognized her, then picked up her skirts and practically ran to the train station. She was wearing Bonnie’s most practical pair of boots, which they’d scuffed so as not to draw attention, and she was grateful they’d thought of it. A faint smile came to her lips as she remembered the thoroughly impractical heeled slippers—Ember’s creation—she’d worn to the ball.
Even the memory of dancing with Lysander at that ball—Lysander, whom she’d now lost—couldn’t diminish the satisfaction of knowing Ember was happily married to Max DeVille and well on her way to creating a new line of footwear for the ladies of Scotland.
And I helped her by showing off those shoes at the ball.
There. She’d done one thing right, at least.
And now, she was on her way to have an adventure. Granted, not the kind of adventure she would’ve necessarily chosen, but sheknewthis could help Bonnie, and if she could help another sister achieve her dream, she most certainly would.
She was still grinning from the excitement when she reached the train platform, and when she saw Laird Gaberlunzie standing there, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared off in thedistance, her grin only grew. She slowed to study him, since he wasn’t looking at her, and quietly climbed up the platform on his blind side.
What fit of madness had possessed her to say yes to his offer yesterday? She’d fretted over it half the night, reminding herself she didn’t know him, and he could very well be an axe-murderer for all she knew.
But for some reason, she trusted him. She didn’t know why, but she knew—deep down, as if the knowledge was some sort of magicalknowing—he wouldn’t hurt her. And yesterday, he’d promised he’d allow no harm to come to her on this journey.
Perhapsthat’swhy she trusted him.
Or maybe it was because of the way he teased her, or the look in his good eye when he’d offered his protection. As if she wasimportant.
For a reason other than the way she looked.
Today at least, no one would look twice at her, not dressed as she was. In fact, she looked a proper match for someone like him with that ratty tam and the old kilt and dirt on his knees.
She eyed his legs, and realized they reallywerewell-formed. What was wrong with them to cause his limp? She wondered if she’d have the courage to ask on this adventure.
Well, one thing was for certain: if she were wrong about him, and she needed to get away from him fast, she’d be able to outrun him, thanks to that limp.
Snorting quietly, she then muttered, “Likely not an axe-murderer.”
He suddenly jerked and whirled around, lifting his arms as if in defense. When he saw it was her, he tried to turn the motion into a little wave, as if he’d meant to do it. But when he saw her grinning at his attempt, he scowled and dropped his arms. “Ye snuck up on me.”
