Page 75 of Dangerous

“My lady,” he said levelly, taking her hands in his and holding them tight. “You must go to Ramsay. He will do everything he can to make sure no harm comes to your son. You know that is the only way.”

“I can’t go to London, Bouchard. We don’t have the time!”

“Ramsay is not in London. He is in Eastbourne, at his family’s country house. It will not be out of our way at all.”

“He is at Lessing Hall?”

Bouchard nodded.

She chewed her lip but then shook her head. “I can’t go there—he has family there, they will find out about this and my husband will learn where I am before I can even leave the country.”

“Ramsay is alone, the rest of the family are in London.” Bouchard’s eyes flickered nervously. “I cannot say why, but there is nobody at Lessing Hall save for the baron.”

Mia didn’t care why Ramsay was by himself. She stared into Martín’s eyes, which had shifted from arrogant to earnest. If this man—a man with a fierce reputation of his own—counseled Ramsay’s guidance, she could not dismiss his suggestion without due consideration. She had to go to Eastbourne to get on Bouchard’s ship, so talking to Ramsay would not take her out of her way. Still, it was almost more than she could bear to bring her problems to Ramsay. He would fight her with every weapon at his disposal. Chief of those weapons would be exposing her plans to Adam. And she knew, beyond any doubt, Adam would not risk his unborn child on such a journey.

But what other choice did she have?

“You will not help me otherwise?”

He shook his head.

“Be ready to leave tonight.”

* * *

Mia left Martín in the small park, a thousand thoughts running through her head as she made her way home. The pain in her chest as she made plans to sneak off almost dropped her to her knees.

She loved Adam, but she loved Jibril, too. It was not a contest as to which she loved more; she would go into the same situation to save either of them. Adam had the power to stop her. If he did, and if anything happened to Jibril, Mia knew she would never forgive her husband. She could not risk that, even though it meant risking the life within her, which she knew meant so much to him.

She would have to act fast. She’d have no trouble feigning sickness and avoiding the play tonight—she was sick, sick with grief.

Before Mia knew it, she was climbing the steps to the town house. She handed her cloak to the waiting footman before stripping off her gloves and checking her reflection in the large mirror. Her face gave no sign that her entire life had just collapsed. “Is Lord Exley in?”

“He went out a little while ago, my lady. Shall I check with Batson and see where His Lordship was bound?”

Mia almost wept with relief. She wouldn’t need to run the risk of facing him. Yet. For the first time in days she was grateful he was avoiding her.

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

LaValle was busy with something in her dressing room when Mia entered her chambers.

“My lady?” The Frenchwoman frowned. “Are you unwell?”

Mia lifted a hand to her forehead. “My head aches dreadfully. Perhaps you could prepare me a posset like the one you gave me at my father’s house?”

“Bien sûr, madam! But I will have to check with the kitchen. I am perhaps missing something to make a proper dose,” she mused, her mind already on her task.

“Yes, well, you go and find what you need,” Mia urged.

“Shouldn’t I help you undress, so you may go to bed?”

“I’d rather you make the drink for me.”

LaValle nodded and departed without another word. Mia wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep until the nightmare was over, but she needed to pack her bag before LaValle returned.

It took her longer than she would have liked to find a bag small enough for her to carry. It only had room for one change of clothing and some essentials. She would wear several layers of clothing on her person when she left this evening.

Leaving—how was she to leave the house without being seen? She bit her lip—there were hours yet to come up with something. In the meantime, she needed to write a letter to Adam. She could not simply leave without a word and abandon him to even more horrid speculation.