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“Oh, no,” Chambers protested, “I couldn’t possibly–”
“I’ll take that.” Sloppily plucking the whisky from Ezra’s hand, Sir James Sandor, a baronet who was as tall as he was wide, tilted his head back and consumed the dregs with a satisfyingpopof his lips. “Ah, nothing beats a Scot when it comes to whisky or women.”
“Isn’t your wife from Wales?” This from the third drunk, Lord Masterson, a man of similar height and build to Ezra, but with brown hair instead of blond. His recent engagement to the daughter of a duke had taken him off the marriage mart and solved the problem of his gambling debts all in one fell swoop. As he looked to be the most inebriated of the three, it was apparent that this was a celebration.
“Cardiff,” replied Sandor, his eyes twinkling. “But my mistress is from Edinburgh.”
This earned hearty whoops of laughter from the entire group. While they slapped each other on the back, Flavia took her opportunity to escape.
‘Good luck, darling’she mouthed to Ezra before she sauntered away, her cool, measured gaze searching the crowd for a benefactor worthy of her time and expertise.
Left alone–and why should that bother him as much as it did?–Ezra turned to his mates and put on an affable grin, the same way he put on his socks or his trousers. “What are your plans for the evening, gentlemen?”
Masterson grabbed a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing servant and chugged it down.
Chambers and Sandor exchanged a conspiratorial glance, then looked back at Ezra.
“Well,” Sandor began after a pause, “since you asked….”
2
Highway Rogues & Robbery
Annabel chose toleave the ball early. She told Lenora that she was tired, and that was partially true. While her mind remained alert and attentive, her spirit was tired of the long line of Lord Wimplebottoms waiting for their turn to dance. Her poor feet couldn’t take another pouncing, and her heart…her heart was ready for the day to be done.
Draping a fur-lined shawl over her shoulders to ward off the winter chill, she left her sisters behind and climbed into Perth’s large black coach by herself. She had half-expected Eloise to join her, but for reasons unknown (and highly suspicious), the youngest Rosewood siblings had insisted on remaining behind. She’d said it was because she liked the food, but it was far more likely that she had concocted some wild plan to blow up the Assembly Room so that she wouldn’t have to attend another ball. With Eloise, you never quite knew.
“To Monmouth House, my lady?” asked the driver.
“Yes, please,” she replied, arranging a blanket on her lap and nestling her feet between two coal buckets filled with hot bricks.
The driver nodded, and they set off, but hardly any time had gone by at all before he was back, the lines of his face taught with frustration while the horses tossed their heads and pawed impatiently at the ground. “My apologies, Lady Annabel. There is some sort of blockade on Belmont Avenue. We’ll have to go around the park the long way, then cut across on Elmshire. It will take longer than usual.”
Annabel bit the inside of her cheek to withhold a sigh. “I suppose we’ve no choice in the matter, do we?”
“I’m afraid not, my lady.”
She gave him permission to alter course with a slight nod, and after he’d returned to his seat and collected the reins, the horses veered sharply to the right, the wheels of the coach spraying a shower of tiny stone as the driver expertly navigated the narrow, crowded streets that comprised London’s main thoroughfare.
They exchanged the congestion for a long, dimly lit stretch of road that ran parallel to Hyde Park. With only a sliver of half moon and the random gas lamp to light the way, the bridle paths and walkways that appeared so inviting in the sun were eerily forbidding in the dark. A tree filled with crows, so black they were nearly invisible, watched in silent, beady-eyed disapproval as the noisy carriage disrupted their slumber. A crow, presumably the leader, gave a loud, disapproving caw and the rest promptly joined in, causing Annabel to turn away from the window and draw the blanket up to her chin.
Shivering, she silently urged the horses faster. It wasn’t that she wasafraid. This quadrant of central London, less than a mile from Buckingham Palace, was renowned for its safety. Bobbies patrolled the corners, their loud whistles warning off thieves and pickpockets. But that did not mean crime was nonexistent, and after two years of seclusion at Clarenmore Park, the city seemed louder, faster, and infinitely more dangerous than she remembered. Especially when she was stuck in a carriage at night, in the pitch dark, traveling past a vacant park.
You’re fine, she told herself.Bridget is the sister with the imagination that runs away from her, not you.
Bridget, the dreamer.
Eloise, the wildling.
Lenora, the mother.
And Annabel, the…well, she wassomething. Just maybe not what she’d thought she was.
A daughter without parents.
A sister without a brother.
