“How could you do that?” Fee stood back, tightly gripping the plush upholstery of a Chippendale chair.
“Does she know that?” Jessica asked.
“I doubt it. She has not said.”
“Oh, Evan.” Jessica now had tears in her eyes. “Why would she go? She loves you.”
“Someday I will tell you why. Today, I tell you only that I will find her.”
His mother bristled. “She is in danger?”
“She is, Mama.”
Each woman had a special little curse she loved to utter in ripe moments. This was one.
Evan filled with pride in the three of them. “Excuse me now. I have much to do.”
Jessica caught his sleeve. “Let no one hurt her.”
“Never.” He kissed his sister on her nose. “She is ours and we need her.”
#
Bowling Green House
Putney Heath, Wandsworth, London
January 23, 1806
The next morning, minutes before six, Evan’s hired guard, Neville, stood beside Evan on a corner near Putney Green and nodded toward his wife, who hovered on the far corner.
Neville, a fit and feisty boxer and runner for the gang leader Dáire O’Neill of Seven Dials, had fetched him just after five, knocking on the front door of Audley Street and summoning a very alarmed Davis.
“Not to worry.” Evan had waylaid Davis’s fears about the stranger who demanded the butler rouse his master at that dastardly hour of the morning.
But Evan knew they had much to worry about this morning. Evan had gone to the prime minister’s house after midnight and seen the sorry state of his leader. He had returned home, but not slept. He only paced. Durham had sent another note to him at five, this one with news that would shake the nation. Evan said nothing of it to anyone in the house. People would know soon enough.
#
A quick coffee for Evan and Neville, and the two men had gone from the house, this time via the kitchen door and a hack summoned by Davis from far down the street.
Neville scowled at Evan. The man was never happy, it seemed, on the best of days. Today was especially hideous. Neville nodded toward Inès, who stood unmoving on that far corner. “She stood here like that last night. Just staring at the house.”
Never taking his eyes from the lovely figure of his wife, Evan asked when she had taken up this spot.
“After eight last night. She walked around the block, then returned to stand there. Many carriages coming and going, lots of folks in and out o’ that house all night long.”
Evan was not surprised at that. He had been just one of the callers. Soon, thousands would know the reason for so many visitors.
Neville went on. “Stubborn, your lass, sir. Once around again, she watched from that far corner who came and went. That was till ten o’clock, when she went in search of a room for the night.”
“How do you know that?”
“I followed ’er, o’course. She went into a few pubs, but did not stay long. Out she’d come, aye, then go onward.”
“Where did she sleep last night?” God help him, Evan feared she had been followed by Vaillancourt’s agents. La Mère or Faucon?If they knew where she was, did they also know what she contemplated?
He ran a hand across his mouth. Standing here, staring at this particular house, Evan felt the wrath of God fall down upon him. He shut his eyes. It had come to him what she planned. He’d felt the horror of it all night long.Let it not be true.
