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Ranelaw stepped from behind a tall shrub and grabbed her arm as she threatened to barrel past. “Cassie, she’s not here.”
The girl stared at him in consternation as the footman Ranelaw had bribed entered the untidy shrubbery behind her. “Your note said she needs to see me. It’s urgent.”
“I’ll take you to her. She doesn’t want to be seen.” Surreptitiously his hand tightened around her slender arm, although the girl displayed no glimmer of suspicion.
Poor foolish butterfly.
“Is it Mr. Benton?” she asked in a low, urgent voice. “I hope not.”
“I’ll let Miss Smith tell you,” he said in a reassuring voice. He was surprised Cassie was so quick to mention Benton, although he supposed the girl must know about her cousin’s scandalous past. He reached into his coat and withdrew a notebook and pencil. “You’ll need to tell Mrs. Merriweather you’ve been called away to a crisis at home.” He didn’t want to risk someone rescuing the chit before the damage was done.
“Oh, you’re right. I’d hate her to worry. She’s been so kind.”
Cassie’s large blue eyes focused on him with a guileless trust that startled a distant yelp of contrition. He ignored his conscience and extended the notebook and pencil.
While Cassie scribbled a short note, he tried to stir some anticipation for what was about to happen. He should be breathless with suspense as his plot poised so near fulfillment.
For four agonizing days, he’d struggled to scotch his turbulent, confused emotions. Eventually thanks to resurgent pride and copious liquor, he’d succeeded. Now he was wrapped inside thick sheets of ice, safely locked in a frigid, gray Arctic where nothing mattered.
He felt nothing.
No guilt. No longing for Antonia. No triumph that his plan succeeded either.
He was some monstrous machine that performed at the twist of a key. He’d operate until someone turned him off. If he’d been capable of satisfaction, he’d welcome his lack of turmoil. The world was much easier to navigate when one became numb to all feeling. He honestly believed he could cut off his hand without a twinge.
“Here.” Cassie passed across the notebook. Ranelaw cast his eyes over the message, ripped the page out, folded it, and gave it to the waiting footman.
“For Mrs. Merriweather,” he said shortly.
The man bowed and left with impressive swiftness. Considering the coin Ranelaw had poured into his pockets, the fellow should sodding well fly.
“We can’t delay.” Walking so fast that she had to scurry to keep up, he drew an unresisting Cassie toward the nearby gate. It opened onto a side alley leading between high walls from the street down to the river.
“Poor Toni, it’s so unfair,” Cassie said breathlessly, as if she addressed someone who gave a damn. “She’s sneaking back to Somerset to hide. That vile John Benton should be the one to run away.”
“I’m sure,” Ranelaw bit out, increasing his already punishing pace. The last thing he wanted was a cozy chat about Antonia Hilliard.
“I wish you’d shoot Mr. Benton,” Cassie said, scuttling in his wake.
That attracted even Ranelaw’s distracted attention. He came to an abrupt halt and turned toward her. “Pardon?”
Cassie stopped and stared back with a surprisingly hard expression in her fine eyes. “You should shoot Mr. Benton. He acted dishonorably and Toni has nobody else to stand up for her.” She paused and frowned. “Apart from me. And I can’t challenge a gentleman.”
In spite of himself, Ranelaw snorted with dismissive laughter. He opened the gate into the alley. “You’re a bloodthirsty creature, aren’t you?”
She stood her ground and studied him with a thoughtfulness he didn’t appreciate. “I look after the people I love. So does Toni.”
“Very commendable,” he said dryly, ignoring the pointed comment at the end.
Impatiently he gripped her arm and hauled her toward the street where his coachman waited with a light gig harnessed to his two fastest horses. This was the riskiest part of Ranelaw’s plan. In front of the Sheridan mansion, there was a chance someone might see them, but he couldn’t turn a carriage in the alley.
Cassie craned her neck, checking the street. “Where’s Toni?”
He stepped in front of her to block her view. Or anyone’s view of her. “I told you, I’m taking you to her.”
The lie emerged so easily that the girl immedia
tely accepted it. He handed Cassie into the carriage, vaulted up beside her and seized the reins. Bob coachman stepped aside and they set off with a clatter of hooves and wheels.
