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Chapter One
Miss Dinah Mulgrave liked many things about London; there were carriage rides and elegant ballrooms, there were ices at Gunter’s and ever so many dresses and hats to be bought. But, without question, the best thing about London was...
Themen.
Tall with dark hair, fair with beguiling blue eyes, always well-togged, filling out their jackets most becomingly. If Dinah wasn’t fully aware that her time in London was rapidly coming to a close, she would be most tempted to remain unattached for no fewer than three years so that she might enjoyallthe Season had to offer many times over.
Such was not an option, however, and she knew it.
Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to her family, catching a handsome husband wasnotthe only thing Dinah had on her mind these days.
It was thatother thingthat had brought her out of doors this evening. Any other day, Father would have insisted they be sitting down to dinner about now. No matter his new status as a knight and that they currently resided in London, Father hated eating after the sun went down. Some habits were just too ingrained, Dinah supposed. However, with guests coming tonight—again—dinner would not be served for a few more hours. If she hurried, she would be back in time. She had no desire to worry her family, as they most certainlywouldworry if they found her missing.
Dinah glanced back at the house Father was letting for the Season. Though far superior to their usual home two days’ ride from here, it was quite simple in comparison to where most people stayed in Town. But it suited Dinah quite fine. After all, she needed to keep what little anonymity she had left. It made her job much easier.
Lifting her skirt, Dinah turned and hurried down the street. There weren’t many people about, and if any of them did glance her way, hopefully they’d assume the petite girl attired in a bland dress who’d exited the house from the servants’ door could not be anyone more noteworthy than a maid.
The day was hot, and soon, beads of sweat caused the back of Dinah’s dress to stick to her most uncomfortably. Mr. Harding had said there would be transport waiting for her at the end of the street. Perhaps she would be cooler once inside and in the shade? Probably not. Shade did not protect one from the muggy humidity.
As promised, a simple farmer’s cart awaited her at the corner. No shade for her then; ah well, it wasn’t important anyway. A man with leathery skin and a wide-brimmed hat sat in the driver’s seat. He seemed to be waiting for someone. She hoped he was waiting for her. She’d know soon enough.
“Good day to you,” she called up, shoving aside every lesson Lady Charlotte Blackmore had taught her about refining her speech and sounding as much like a maid as she could.
The man made no attempt to hide his roving eyes, even as he grunted in return.
Either this was the right man, or she was very possibly making a monumental mistake.
Not that this would be the first.
If there was one thing Dinah prided herself on, it was getting out of scrapes. Part of the reason she was so good at it was that she’d had a lot of practice.
“It’s frightfully hot today,” she pressed on, watching his expression closely while also trying to appear unaffected.
Something shifted in his eyes. Was that recognition of the prearranged phrase? Or simply surprise that she, a stranger, was continuing a conversation with him?
“I know a farmer’s field not far from here where the trees keep it a might bit cooler.”
That was the phrase she’d been hoping to hear. Dinah’s stomach relaxed a bit. “Do the sparrows sing when the sun sets?”
His own expression eased even as he scooted over on the bench. “That they do. Climb up,” he said, finishing the prearranged sentences, “and I’ll show you the spot.”
Dinah easily pulled herself up and settled herself on the bench beside the man. He smelled strongly of body odor and tobacco. But Mr. Harding had said the man would take her to and from the job, and Mr. Harding, one of England’s most respected Bow Street Runners, had never steered her wrong before. They rode in silence, leaving the bustling streets of London and moving quickly toward open fields.
Once they reached an empty road, the man finally spoke once more. “When Mr. Harding said I would be driving a woman, I expected someone not so...”
“Beautiful?” Dinah asked, batting her eyes.
The man only scowled. “I was gonna say young. Does your family know what you’re about?”
“Oh gracious, no,” Dinah said, still cheerful. With any luck, if she stayed positive, some of that would rub off on him. “But Mr. Harding doesn’t have me doing anything overly dangerous tonight, so you needn’t worry.”
“You’d best be right.” He called to the horses, angling the cart down a small dirt road to their left before turning back to her. “Let’s get one thing clear. I’m not here for some stupid ideal. I’m getting paid, and that’s all. You’re pretty and seem sweet enough, but not you nor nothing else is worth my life. I’ll take you where you need to go, and if all goes well, I’ll see you back home. But if there’s any trouble—any yelling or shooting—I’m gone and you’re on your own. Got it?”
A foreboding settled into Dinah’s chest, cold and uncertain. “Very well. I understand.”
“And you’re still wanting to go?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Do you know what’s at stake tonight?”
