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Will crouched in the floor of the carriage and readied himself.
“Be careful,” she whispered, bending to place a quick kiss on his mouth.
“You do the same. Don’t stop at Farnsworth’s for more than a moment, and stay close to the carriage if you can. He’s likely being watched.”
She nodded. “I will wait to hear from you.”
The carriage slowed, and Will grasped the door handle. “I’ll try to push it back as I exit. You’ll have to catch it.”
“I will—now go before it’s too late!” she hissed as they began making the turn.
Her heart leaped into her throat as he opened the door and paused in the gap. Then he was gone. Reaching out, she caught the door as it came toward her, its hinges protesting as the carriage swayed. Snatching it shut, she threw the bolt and sank back against the squabs.
Now that she was alone, the tears she’d held in check coursed down her cheeks.
Please let him be safe!
…
Will landed on his feet and kept moving, immersing himself in the crowd. Only one or two had acknowledged his exit from the carriage with raised brows, but they’d soon turned their attention elsewhere. Keeping one hand on the handle of the pistol in his pocket, he hailed a sedan chair to the nearest inn.
The sooner he got off the street, the better. His clothes alone were enough to make him a target for common thieves, and he didn’t want to take any chances. It would be a terrible irony if he managed to escape Boucher’s grasp only to fall prey to a cutpurse. Once at the house, he’d send someone with a message to Sir Gonson with details regarding his situation and a request for assistance.
His primary concern wasn’t himself, but rather Jacqueline and the girls. She’d be safe inside the school as long as no one was allowed in. He’d checked the entire building himself today, from cellar to attic, to be sure there was no secret way to get inside. Jacqueline had spoken to her staff, and they were prepared to defend against an attack in whatever form it took.
At the inn, Will hired a carriage to take him to St. James. His nerves were on edge until they crossed Portugal Street. He ventured a look behind. All was clear. Perhaps luck had indeed been on their side and he’d escaped unseen.
The moment he arrived at the house, he set the next phase of the plan into motion.
Not one, but three men were sent out with messages. One to Sir Gonson, one to Jacqueline, and another to some personal friends. His colleagues could be counted on to watch only his back. Sir Gonson would care little for the welfare of the school—his main interest would be the capture and conviction of Boucher.
Will’s friends would stand watch over the school and safeguard those within while he cut off the head of the serpent.
Playing the part of a rich lord involved more than donning a new set of clothes, which Will did at once. As soon as his messengers departed, he went about reinstating the illusion of Lord Huxton. A few of Huxton’s calling cards had been found among his other props, and a footman was dispatched to begin delivering them to his neighbors to inform them he’d just returned from abroad.
“Is everyone ready?” he asked his “valet.”
“Yes, my lord,” answered Richards, a grim smile lifting one corner of his mouth.
“You don’t have to call me that, you know.”
“When you’re in this house, I do,” the man answered back. “Everyone has been informed. We’re ready.”
“It’s unlikely to happen until well into the night, if indeed not tomorrow,” Will told him as he adjusted his cuffs. “She’ll need time to formulate a plan and organize her men.”
“I would be slow to make such assumptions. If her people are as firmly entrenched as the letter you spoke of would indicate, she may be well prepared to move at any given moment.”
He’s right. “As you say, then.”
“Shall I instruct the kitchen regarding your dinner, my lord?”
Will repressed a sigh. “Whatever has already been prepared will do fine.”
“Filet of beef, rare, with wine sauce it is, my lord,” said the other man without missing a beat. “Shall I have it sent up or do you wish to dine formally?”
In other words, play my part. “I’ll dine downstairs, of course,” he said, resigned.
Richards acknowledged his concession with a short bow and departed.
