But when he opened his eyes, he allowed himself to acknowledge the words of his beloved wife’s plan. They were too vile to speak aloud.
He would not allow her to do it.Of course not.
So as she waited for her courage to lead her forward—and she clearly worried it would not—Evan vowed not to wait any longer for her to make her next move.
’Twas then Inès turned on her heel and strode away.
He and Neville followed.
#
Inès pushed open the door to her room. The carriage inn was the closest to the prim little house that the prime minister of Great Britain leased for himself and his niece.
The room was small, the bed smaller, and the mattress thin eiderdown. Her night had been frightening and fitful. Her dreams nightmares. Her hours of sleep few.
She leaned against the door and pushed the small bolt. She had asked the innkeeper not to enter her room, and nothing seemed out of place. He had complied.
She sat on the bed and fingered the vial in her coat pocket. She put a hand over her stomach, swallowing hard against her queasiness. But she would not stop. She would not fail now. She had her plan. Simple, it was. She’d ask to be received by Pitt. She’d say she had to discuss something with him and that she was acquainted, a friend, actually. The butler would ask if she would like tea—and most definitely, she needed him to deliver tea and biscuits, anything at all to cover the taste of the…
She caught a breath.
If the butler refused her, she would demand it. She did not expect the servant to recognize her. “Bechard” would mean nothing to him. But she did not intend to give him her married name. “Mannerly” or “Halsey” would definitely gain her an audience, but to use either of those was folly. She could not chance that the man would remember her, blame her and send the authorities scouring the city for her—or for her husband. She would rely on her persistence and the butler’s kindness to let her in.
She squeezed the vial tightly. So tightly that if it were glass, she could break it.
But it was porcelain. She’d given it to Mary to give to the apothecary to fill and had never opened it. No, never. Just sewn it into the hem of her coat. A good ploy many agents relied upon.
She sat, her heart pounding, her eyes hot with tears.
Would Luc love how she had saved him?
Oh, she knew. She knew.
One day, her brother would learn and walk away. Never to return.
Never to thank her.
Never.
And Evan?
She shuddered and stood. He would learn. Somehow. He was too careful, too devoted, too determined about everything he cared for. He would learn.
He would hate her. Loathe her. Regret every moment he ever spent with her.
She cried out. One hand to her stomach, one hand to her forehead, she bent and sobbed out her hatred of all she would do here.
One knock came at her door.
She sucked in air.
With a crack that burst her hearing, the door splintered the frame and banged against the wall.
Her heart slammed shut.
Her tears froze on her face.
A hand out, she backed away from her husband. “No! Leave me!”
