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“Good man. I suggest you leave the castle no earlier than a day after my departure to avoid suspicion. Return to London and wait for my word.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rafe ducked his head to his chin and left the room. He then took Sylvia’s arm. She was still worryingly pale. “Everything will be all right. I promise.” Then, without thinking, he pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. She relaxed a little, and Rafe pulled her to his side. “We’re going to leave through the servants’ staircase and go out the back. The train station is about two miles from here.” Sylvia nodded, but she still looked dazed. “Take a breath,” Rafe instructed and breathed along with her. “There. Now we go.”
He needed to focus on their escape, but the feel of Sylvia tucked against him, the sound of her soft inhalations, and the tight squeeze of her hand was a welcome comfort. The servants’ staircase was cool and quiet, as by this time most of them had gone to bed. They crept down the darkened stairs as quietly as possible, but Sylvia tensed at every creak. When they finally stepped out into the night, Rafe took in a gasping lungful of crisp air. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath.
Sylvia began to sag beside him, but Rafe propped her up. “We can’t stop yet, my little bird,” he whispered. Then he pointed up ahead. “We’ll cut through the back garden and head toward the main road.”
“But what if someone sees us?”
“They won’t. Come along.” He took her hand and strode down the path. If he acted confident, Sylvia wouldn’t know how bloody terrified he was. Rafe had been in tighter spots before, but he had either been alone or with another agent. Putting Sylvia in any kind of danger was maddening, but it was a risk he had to take. There simply was no other choice. The moon was even bigger tonight, and though he was grateful for the light, it also increased the chance that someone would see them. As they darted across the lawn, Rafe glanced back at the castle. The drawing room was toward the front of the property, and only a few rooms on the upper floors emitted faint light. Hopefully no one happened to look out their window at this precise moment.
Up ahead, the labyrinth rustled softly in the breeze, making it look particularly Gothic and menacing in the moonlight. Sylvia paused just a moment, distracted by the sound.
And then Rafe heard the click of the gun.
Chapter Eighteen
All right, Davies. You know how this goes. Put your hands up and turn around. Slowly.”
Rafe squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, then raised his hands and nodded at Sylvia to do the same. “It’s fine,” he murmured, trying his best to reassure her. She didn’t look very convinced but complied all the same.
“Wardale,” Rafe began once they faced their pursuers. “Not exactly surprised to see you here, but using the dastardly gardener as your lackey is an inspired touch.”
Brodie frowned and rolled his substantial shoulders back. Apparently he didn’t like being described in such terms.
Wardale’s lip curled into something resembling a smile. “Don’t listen to him, Brodie. Davies never knows when to keep his mouth shut.” He took a few steps forward, eyeing the pair of them.
Rafe exhaled loudly. “Can we get this over with? Sylvia and I have a train to catch. We’re eloping.”
Don’t let him see your fear. He will use anything he can against you.
Wardale’s half smile turned into a grin. “Oh, is that what this is? My mistake. I’d have thought you were stealing away in the dark of night because of the incriminating papers you found.”
Rafe bit the inside of his cheek. He would have to play this straight and hope it worked. “There never were any threats, were there?”
“Correct. Brodie helped me with those letters. Though I think he took real pleasure in calling me a rat, didn’t you?” The gardener grunted his response, and Wardale laughed.
“I was only here to help you spy on your guests. Gather more material for blackmail.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Davies. Too bad it took you so long to catch on.”
“And my brother knew all of this the entire time,” Rafe ground out.
Wardale nodded. “He failed to gain support for a bill I was very invested in seeing passed, so he dangled you before me to make amends. Even I couldn’t resist having someone like you in my pocket.”
“Careful there. I don’t belong to you.”
“Yet.” He drew out the word, enunciating it perfectly. “You know, part of surviving on the street means watching what a man does and finding his weakness before he can find yours. Then doing whatever it takes to beat him. The Crown would do well to consider recruiting urchins like me rather than fancy lads like you.”
Rafe saw Sylvia turned toward him out of the corner of his eye. He needed to change the subject away from himself. “What do you have on Gerard?”
Wardale could barely hide his glee. “He’s been keeping an actress as his mistress. Sound familiar? Like father, like son. Blathering on about the importance of conservative values in parliament and then sneaking off to Covent Garden at night.” He chuckled, then glanced at Rafe. “My goodness, you really didn’t have any idea, did you? And you look positivelyscandalized. Aren’t you supposed to have elevated debauchery to an art form?”
Rafe clenched his hands into tight fists but said nothing.
“I suppose it’s the part about following in your father’s footsteps that grates the most, isn’t it? And after all that fuss Gerard made about your mother.” Wardale clicked his tongue. “Despite your pretenses otherwise, it was you who took the more noble path.” He shook his head. “I didn’t expect you to have such an ingrained sense of justice. It’s really quite irritating. You could be so much more if you’d simply let it go.”
