Page 29 of Sinfully Daring

Chapter 8

Dearest Torie,

I am so sorry I shall not see you at Mrs Palmer’s ball. What a rotten moment to come down with a cold! I wish you were going to be there to hold my hand. It’s all rather daunting, and yet I dare not complain too much as I have nagged and nagged everyone to let me come out this year instead of next. And you may stop laughing at me, for I know you are, you horrid girl.

My gown is glorious, however, and I hope I shall not behave too dreadfully and make a spectacle of myself. I mean, it’s bound to happen eventually, but I’d rather put off the inevitable until at least my third season. Assuming I’m not married by then, which seems most unlikely.

I try to imagine it sometimes, finding a man who makes me feel the way Mama described with Papa, but they loved each other from children, so it is not at all the same. I rather wish I could have one of those ‘love at first sight’ moments people speak of, for I fear missing the man of my dreams because I wasn’t paying attention properly. It would be just like me. Oh, what a ninny I am. Do get better soon! I need you!

―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Cara Baxter (daughter of Luke and Kitty Baxter, The Earl and Countess of Trevick) to Lady Victoria Adolphus (daughter of Robert and Prunella Adolphus, Their Graces, The Duke and Duchess of Bedwin).

Early hours of the 4th of July 1842, Peregrine House, Grosvenor Square, London.

Barnaby watched Louis as the carriage crossed Grosvenor Square, though he could see nothing but the glitter of his eyes against the unremitting black. His driver would let Louis down on the far side of the Square, so no one would suspect Barnaby’s involvement in this dreadful scheme. He wished to God he could have talked Louis out of it, but he may as well talk to the wall, so he held his tongue, afraid to upset his friend and damage his trust. He suspected trust was something Louis did not give lightly or easily, and he did not wish to risk that. Yet he had a bad feeling about all of this. Knight was not a man one crossed, and he wondered if Louis understood what he was getting into.

Sometimes Barnaby wondered if he was getting into something himself by being Louis’ friend, for the man was clearly hiding a great deal. Not that it would have changed a thing. Louis was Barnaby’s friend. That was all he needed to know in the end.

The carriage drew to a halt and Louis moved, reaching for the door.

Barnaby reached out a hand and grasped his arm. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he said desperately.

Louis smiled, patting Barnaby’s hand. “Ne t'inquiète pas, mon ami. I will be fine, and so will Evie. I promise.”

Barnaby sighed and nodded. “Have it your own way, but if you need me—”

“I know,” Louis said softly. “And I am more grateful than you know.”

With that, he slipped out of the carriage. Barnaby shifted to the window, looking out at the lamplit street, but Louis had already gone, vanished into the shadows.

Though he had sounded sanguine enough when speaking to Barnaby, Louis had not underestimated the difficulty in getting into the Knight residence. Unlike at Swan Hall, this would not be a simple case of climbing a building. What he had not explained to Barnaby, however, was that he was very used to breaking into large and exclusive houses with too many servants. Having been a servant himself—if you could give such an exulted title to a boy treated like a mangy dog—he also understood how houses like this worked. The easiest way in was the place no one wanted to be, the same route the rubbish took.

He slipped past a night watchman prowling outside the garden walls and climbed the high gates that secured the entrance to the back of the house with ease, running noiselessly down the alley. The door into the basement and the storerooms was easy to locate and though the lock was a secure, modern one, it was child’s play for Louis to pick. A moment later and he was inside, careful to relock the door after him so as not to raise suspicion. He could hear voices from the kitchen, as there would still be a few staff on hand in a household like this, even at this ungodly hour, just in case the family needed anything. Louis clung to the shadows, his eyes having adjusted to the dark as he moved down the corridor in search of the servant’s staircase. Twice he had to duck out of sight, but luck was on his side tonight and he made the staircase with no problems.

From past conversations with Evie, he knew she was on the third floor, facing the square, information she had dropped innocently, and he had tucked away, out of habit. He’d had no nefarious intentions, nor did he consider his intentions in such a light now. He ought not be here, of course, but he loved her, and he was gambling his all on the fact that she loved him too. Not that she had ever said so, but then neither had he, until the note he’d written that night. Now she had it in black and white. His heart stripped bare.

He paused in the darkness, suddenly breathless. Not from nerves because of what he was doing, but because he would face her shortly. He would stand before her with his heart exposed, as if it beat on the outside of his chest. Louis understood what it was to be vulnerable, to be at another’s mercy, as few did. Yet the realisation that he was about to face the possibility of her rejection struck him then and made him more afraid than he’d ever been.

Don’t be a fool, he told himself, closing his eyes. She won’t let you down. Not her. Not Evie. She had put the candle in the window for him. Why do that if she did not want him to come to her?

Steeling himself, he carried on, listening at the bottom of the staircase and discovering the house above him quiet. He ran, slowing towards the top to scan the corridor, pleased by the plush carpets that would muffle his footsteps. The next staircase was just the same and the next, and to his relief reaching the third floor posed no difficulty, but now he must find her room, very aware that her siblings must sleep on the same floor, perhaps her parents too. He froze as a door opened and closed somewhere in the house, listening intently. There was no other sound, so he carried on, and eventually found himself standing before a window on the landing that looked out over the square, judging where he was in the house by what he could see. Then that door to his right was Evie’s.

Heart thudding, he tugged the silk scarf from his face and moved towards it, turning the knob silently and easing it open, relieved to discover the hinges well oiled. He slid inside, closing it behind him, and paused as he heard a little gasp of shock.

Evie.

She stood before him in the golden lamplight, dressed all in white, like a virgin sacrifice. Her nightrail was a feminine extravaganza of ruffles and ribbons, putting him in mind of sweet treats and expensive confections, and the desire to unwrap her was tantalising. His immediate instinct was to run to her and take her in his arms, but the look in her eyes made him stop in his tracks.

His heart froze, the first stirrings of panic rising in his gut. He leaned back against the door, watching her warily. She stared at him, studying him as if she had never seen him before, as if he was something other than she had believed him to be. So, her father had spoken to her about what he’d discovered.

“What did he tell you?” he asked, wondering if she could hear the fear in his voice as audibly as he could. There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

“Bad things,” she whispered, wrapping her arms about herself as if she were cold. “Terrible things.”

They stood that way, a distance of mere feet between them and yet in this moment it felt like an ocean, as if she was being drawn farther away with every passing second.

“Are they t-true?” she asked him, her green eyes full of anxiety.

Louis gritted his teeth, his jaw flexing, but there was little point in lying, and he had sworn to always give her the truth, had he not. He wanted her to know the worst of him and love him anyway, but he had wanted more time than this, wanted her bound to him before she could run from him in fear, cowardly as that was. Louis lowered his lashes, staring at the floor with a frown as he wished he could deny it all, but he could not. He would not.