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"Not a soul so much as stepped into my office, much less examined my mail." Damen sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "It was a wasted effort. In fact, the only productive thing I did all morning was to put on a convincing show. Anyone scrutinizing me would think it was a day like any o
ther. That way, should my scrutinizer meet with your uncle, he can truthfully say I behaved in my typical fashion. George will have to conclude that your absence came as no unwelcome surprise to me, which would support your claim that it was I who advised you to go to Philadelphia."
"Or indicate that you haven't an inkling that I've gone at all," Anastasia pointed out. "Uncle George will probably try to find out, either directly or through his informant, which of the two it is. Not that it would alter his plans. Either way, I'm sure he'll be sending Meade after me." An ironic smile touched her lips. "But while it won't alter his plans, it will certainly improve his humor if he decides the latter is true. Just think, if I acted on my own, with no urging from you, Uncle George would have the pleasure of telling you what I'd done. You'd doubtless be furious at the recklessness of my actions, and more than ready to wash your hands of me."
"Turning my full attentions to Breanna."
"Exactly."
Damen sucked in his breath. "Every time I think about what that bastard has planned, what he means to do to you, I want to choke him with my bare hands."
"I know," Anastasia responded quietly. "But then you'd be the one in prison and I'd have to live without you. I don't intend to do that. Nor do I intend to let whoever's deceiving you continue on at the House of Lockewood, unknown and unpunished. The same applies to Bates, Lyman, Meade, and whoever else is involved in this."
"Like M. Rouge and his contemptible clients," Darren muttered. He straightened, shot Anastasia a probing look. "Are you ready to go on our little jaunt?"
A terse nod. "Very ready."
Damen's closed carriage rounded the drive at Medford Manor, coming to a halt before the front steps.
"Don't forget," he cautioned under his breath. "Stay under that blanket. Don't move or poke that curious head of yours out to see what's going on. We don't know for sure that your uncle is away. Nor do we want any of the servants to see you. Remember: you're on a ship on your way to Philadelphia."
"And you're alone in a carriage having a conversation with a horse blanket," came the muffled retort from beneath the opposite seat.
Damen rolled his eyes, torn between amusement and worry. He knew Anastasia. And she wasn't going to stay still for long—especially after a lengthy, cramped carriage ride from London, during which she'd been allowed to emerge and stretch her legs only when the roads they'd been traveling were deserted enough to ensure she wasn't detected—and, even then, only after the carriage curtains had been tightly drawn.
Oh, Damen knew how much Anastasia loathed confinement of any kind. But he wasn't taking any chances with her safety.
"I'll linger inside only as long as I have to," he advised the horse blanket. He bent down, as if to retrieve his glove. "Promise me you'll stay put."
"Promise me you'll bring Breanna."
He grinned. "I promise."
"Then so do I."
"Good." Damen straightened just in time for his driver to come around, open the door. "Wait here," he instructed the driver in a normal tone, as he alighted from the carriage. "I'll be out shortly. You'll be taking Lady Breanna and me for a ride in the country."
"Very good, my lord." The driver nodded, shutting the door and resuming his seat at the reins.
Damen climbed the steps and knocked.
Wells opened the door at once. "Ah, Lord Sheldrake," he greeted. "Lady Breanna will be delighted to see you."
"I'm looking forward to seeing her as well." Damen glanced down the hallway, trying to determine if George was at home.
"I hope you don't have pressing business to discuss with the viscount," Wells continued. "He had an appointment in Town and won't be back for several hours. He'll be sorry he missed you."
"Ah." Damen shot Wells a grateful look. "That's quite all right. My business with the viscount can wait. I really came to see Lady Breanna."
"Then I won't keep you waiting."
Breanna reached the bottom of the staircase, smiling as she approached Damen. "I'm so glad you're here."
"As am I." Damen cleared his throat. "I realize you invited me for tea, but it's such a beautiful summer day that I thought perhaps you'd enjoy a ride in the country instead. Unless, of course, you haven't eaten."
"I've solved that problem," Wells interrupted. "Wait here." He hurried off, reappearing scant minutes later carrying a basket. "Mrs. Rhodes was kind enough to pack up these sandwiches. She'd prepared them for you to eat in the garden, but they'll taste just as good elsewhere. So long as you're enjoying the summer day, it doesn't matter where you are."
"Thank you, Wells." Breanna squeezed his arm.
