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As he departed, he heard Cal mutter, “And he leaves me to pay the bill. Again.”
EMILY HADN’T EXPECTEDto travel in style, but she had not been prepared for the filthy hackney in which she’d been placed. The straw on the floor was matted and dirty, and she dared not look too closely because she feared there were things moving in it. The seats were sticky and their fabric torn. The roof of the conveyance bowed in, and she rather feared it would fall on her at any moment.
“I shall have to burn this dress when I return,” she said. “IfI return.”
Will grinned at her from the other side of the hackney. “It must be difficult to live in the world of mere mortals, even if only for a few hours.”
“No more difficult than passing through the world lying to every person you meet.”
His expression turned serious. “Emily—”
“Lady Averley to you, sir.”
“Emily,” he said, ignoring her request. “You understand why I couldn’t tell you the truth of who I was. If you had been the traitor, then by telling you I would have endangered the life of the queen.”
Emily bristled. It hurt to think that he would ever have believed she was a traitor or that she would want Victoria dead. It hurt even more to know she had trusted this man, given herself to him, all the while he’d been pretending.
“And when you realized I was not in league with the cutthroats, what prevented you from telling me the truth then?”
He looked away.
“You let me come to your bed, let me believe you cared for me, when all along it was part of a scheme to—to investigate me.”
His head reared back as though she’d punched him. “That was not part of the investigation. I knew you were innocent by then.”
“And yet you continued on with your lies about who you were.”
“I may not have told you the whole truth. I’m an agent for a specialized group who operates in secrecy. I can’t go around announcing our existence. And what I told you about myself was otherwise true. I am Willoughby Galloway, and my parents are Lord and Lady Smythe. I do have a sister. I did go to Lyme Regis as a child.”
The mention of Lyme Regis, of their first connection, stung. At least that was true. At least he hadn’t played her for a complete fool.
“And I do care for you. That wasn’t a lie.”
Emily looked away, not certain what to believe. How could she know whether some new “truth” about Will might be revealed that would change everything? How did she know he wasn’t lying to her even now?
“You shouldn’t even be here. If Baron knew...”
“Which baron do you refer to?”
She saw the change in his expression. Saw his eyes shutter. Emily waved a hand. “Never mind. Nothing you say at this point will be true anyway.”
“I can tell you Baron is his code name. He’s my superior, and he wouldn’t be pleased to have you here.”
“Then perhaps he shouldn’t go about accusing innocent people of mischief. It tends to make us want to clear our names.” She folded her arms and stared out the window at the streets ofLondon. After so much time in the countryside at Averley and then in the palace, she had almost forgotten how crowded the city was. It seemed every street was bursting with barrows and carts and people on foot. So many people—young and old, whole and missing limbs, men and women. She was in a hackney—and a rather shabby one at that, but Will had said most drivers wouldn’t go all the way to Wapping, so beggars couldn’t be choosers. She had rarely traveled in a hackney before. She’d always been in a coach driven by a smart coachman and accompanied by liveried footmen. When she’d passed people on the streets, they’d paused and looked at her pass and gawked. Some had waved. Others would stare or even bow. No one paid her any attention now. No one had the slightest idea who she was.
She had the sense that it could be thrilling to pretend to be someone else. Perhaps that was what Will found enjoyable about his work. He could be someone else for a time. Emily thought she might like to be someone else on days like today. Will’s betrayal had wounded her already bruised heart, and now all the old pains were coming to the surface. There was the surprise and anguish of Jack’s sudden death. And before that the child, a little girl who had come too soon and been stillborn.
Even now, all of these years later, the pain of it still took her breath away. She wished, with all her heart, she could be someone who didn’t know those losses. Even if for just one day, one hour. She’d thought she had found a balm with Will. When she’d been in his presence, in his arms, the old hurts had seemed to fade.
But now she knew it had been lies, a veil pulled over her eyes, only to be ripped away and expose her pain anew.
They had been traveling for some time in silence, the bustle of London behind them as they moved closer to Wapping. The dockside area had its own congestion, and she marveled at thecarts passing them on the road, stacked high with crates and barrels and boxes from all around the world. She rather thought it must be some sort of competition—which driver could stack their goods the highest. Some of the barrels or crates were stacked so high they teetered, and Emily feared they would tumble down if the cart’s wheel hit a bump in the road.
“We will reach the posting house shortly,” Will said. Emily looked away from the window and her view of another cart. “When we arrive, do exactly as I say. Don’t speak. Let me manage everything.”
“Will we go straight to the meeting?”
“I’ll need to find a place to observe who goes in and out. I’m afraid a lot of my work is sitting and waiting. It can be cold and uncomfortable.”
