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“What hope have they?” whispered Jacqueline once they were out of earshot. “If those brutes get inside…”
“With all good fortune, Loxdon’s people and my friends will see they don’t get past the doors. We must leave them to it and focus on our own task.” Bending, he placed a kiss upon her brow. “Trust me. They’re in good hands.”
“I do trust you,” she said softly. “And I pray you are right.”
Together they helped with the preparations. When the clock showed half past one, he nodded to Jacqueline and went to fetch Sally while she took care of spiriting Emma away.
When he took Sally aside and showed her the letter, however, she began to cry. “If she’s sent for me, then she knows,” she sobbed. “She knows I betrayed her! Marian…”
It took him the majority of ten minutes to calm her down enough to listen. “You cannot tell her about Abigail. Swear you will keep silent. Otherwise, Emma’s sacrifice will mean nothing.”
One sodden vow and a short walk later, they were at the front with the others.
Just before two o’clock, Mrs. Orson, who’d been sent up to spy on the street below, came running into the foyer. “A carriage has come and is waiting out front.”
“Are there others about?” he asked the out-of-breath woman.
She nodded. “People have begun coming out of their homes. I saw Mrs. Tinsley and Mr. Dibbs from across the street. They were walking together as if they were old friends.”
Beside him, Jacqueline stiffened. “If those two are walking as a pair, then something is definitely wrong. They may be neighbors, but there is no love lost between them.”
“I would not blame them for being nervous,” he replied. “They cannot have missed the noise and commotion. The good news is they felt safe enough to leave their homes.”
Jacqueline raised a brow. “Or perhaps they were told to leave.”
“I doubt Boucher’s hired killers would be so indiscreet as to allow anyone who has seen them to walk away. I’ll take it as a good sign that it’s safe to open the door.” Nodding to Thomas, Gerald, and Peg, he helped Jacqueline raise the bar and unlock the door.
There were no ruffians, just a carriage with a liveried man waiting patiently beside it.
“One would think we are to be taken to a ball,” muttered Jacqueline.
But his sharp eyes saw the truth. The “footman” was far too much of a ham-fisted brute, and the odd bulges beneath the skirts of his jacket told him there were weapons hiding under it. The way the driver stared boldly at them was another giveaway.
“Only two of you?” Will murmured as he approached.
The other man’s lip curled in a sneer. “Make no mistake, sir, there are many eyes watching. Breathe wrong, and you’re dead. Do yourself a favor—come quietly and live a little longer.” His pale blue eyes scoured him from head to toe. “I assume you’ve done as you were told and are unarmed?”
Will slowly lifted his arms. He’d chosen his clothing with care, opting to leave off wearing a jacket. He wore only a shirt, waistcoat, and a pair of breeches with boots. To the average eye, there were no places in which to conceal a weapon. “I’m happy to subject myself to a search if you feel the need.”
With a snort, the footman jerked his chin toward the carriage.
It was Jacqueline’s turn to run the gauntlet. Taking her cloak from around her shoulders, she held it out while the man examined it. Her face tightened w
ith annoyance as he poked about her skirts and searched her pockets.
“Where is the other one?” the footman asked her. “There are supposed to be two children. I see only one.”
She relayed the story of young Abigail’s cruel death by poisoning. As she did, Emma’s face crumpled, and she began to cry piteously. The man eyed them both for a moment, and then gave Jacqueline a nudge toward the carriage.
By contrast, he grunted a familiar greeting to Sally, whose face colored. Though it was obvious the pair knew each other, he still made her relinquish her cloak so he could check it. Handing it back, he nodded approval and motioned for her to pass.
Will let out the breath he’d been holding when tearful Emma was given a cursory glance and dismissed to enter the carriage without any invasion whatsoever.
People always overlooked children when it came to threat assessment. Though Emma was fourteen, she was quite small for her age and looked several years younger, thanks to having suffered privation. She’d offered to carry several blades as well as a small pistol similar to those Jacqueline had concealed under her skirts. Like her headmistress, she wore the firearm strapped to one of her legs, along with an assortment of small, sheathed blades.
Still sobbing, she climbed aboard after Sally and Jacqueline, and then Will followed. He remained silent until the carriage lurched into motion. “You know him, our footman,” he said to Sally over the sound of Emma’s sniffles.
Without looking up, Sally answered, “Yes. I’ve met him at the marketplace several times. He’s also the one with whom I communicated using the lamp.” Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. “He’s not a bad sort, really. This is just what he has to do to feed his family.”
