A Most Dangerous Profession(15)

“She won’t; Mr. Hurst says she’s due to leave tomorrow morning. He’s goin’ to visit her this evenin’, though, so dinna be surprised to see him. In the mornin’ we’ll be travelin’ with Mr. Hurst.”

Leeds brightened. “Where are we goin’?”

“I dinna know, but I’ll be a groom and ye’ll be a footman. Buffon will be comin’, too.”

“That lace-bowed jackanapes?” Leeds sighed. “I suppose there’s no help fer it. How does Mr. Hurst know so much about this woman’s plans?”

“How does he know anythin’? He’s a smart one, he is. One o’ the best. And I’ve a feelin’ that whatever important business Mr. Hurst is upon, this woman might be a big part o’ it. She might be a spy.”

Leeds looked every bit as impressed as Stewart wished. “Och, I’ll no’ leave me post.”

Satisfied he’d done his best to convince Leeds of the importance of their work, Stewart bid him good night and disappeared into the darkness.





CHAPTER 5





Diary entry by Michael Hurst as he waits for his release from captivity.


Yesterday I discovered that my assistant, Miss Smythe-Haughton, has initiated a hare-brained scheme to charm my captor in the hopes of winning my release without the onyx box. I dislike her undertaking such an endeavor and expressed my displeasure, which she ignored. While the box is a crucial link to finding the long-lost Hurst Amulet, that cannot justify her putting herself at such risk. Especially when I saw the expression on the sulfi’s face when she attempted—of all the witless things—to dance for him during dinner.

Miss Smythe-Haughton might be a crack cryptographer and have a way with winning support from the locals, and she may be the only woman I know who can ride camels as if born to it, but the woman dances like a lame bear. Since the sulfi did not order her beaten, I must surmise that he has an excellent sense of humor.

An hour later, Robert rode into the inn yard. He cast a quick glance around and saw Leeds idly grooming a horse in direct sight of the door.

Leeds flicked Robert a glance from beneath the brim of his hat and nodded toward the wide door.

Robert touched the brim of his own hat and dismounted, tossing the reins and a coin to a waiting linkboy before entering the inn.

Mr. King, the proprietor, bustled forward. “Och, if ’tisn’t Mr. Hurst! How good to see ye, sir.”

“And you. I trust you’re busy this time of year.”

“Filled every room,” the innkeeper said proudly.

“Excellent.” Robert removed his hat and set it upon the hall table, his gloves neatly placed across the brim, and then allowed the innkeeper to assist him in removing his greatcoat. “I came to visit a certain guest of yours, and I must ask for your discretion.”

Knowing well how generously “discretion” could pay, Mr. King beamed. “Indeed, sir, I’ll no’ breathe a word. Which guest are you wishin’ to visit?”

Robert took a shiny guinea from his pocket and dropped it into the landlord’s hand. “Her name is Mrs. Randolph. If you’ll give me the room direction, I shall announce myself.”

“Ah, Mrs. Randolph. She’s a loverly woman. In fact,” he added archly, “the porter just delivered her bath. She’s in room seven, top of the stairs to the right.”

“Thank you. Do you happen to have an extra key?”

“Of course!” The landlord scurried to a small room off the foyer and returned with a large iron key. “Here ye are, Mr. Hurst. If ye need anything else, jus’ say th’ word.”

“Thank you.” Robert took the key and crossed the foyer. So Moira still had a weakness for a hot bath. He wondered what other things about her were the same. Did she still enjoy warm, buttered bread? Reading the morning paper over hot tea and crumpets? Lolling in bed until the afternoon?

Of course, Moira’s idea of lolling was rather vigorous, and the memories warmed him as he headed up the stairs.

After he found her room, he pressed his ear to the door. He heard humming, followed by a splash.

Good. She won’t have that damned pistol on her. Still, he’d take no chances. He pulled out his small silver mounted pistol and checked it quickly. Then he slipped his key into the lock, turned it, and swung the door open.

Moira was indeed naked and glorious in the bath . . . and holding a pistol aimed right at his heart. “What an unpleasant surprise,” she murmured, her smooth voice at odds with the anger that sparkled in her green eyes. “May I suggest that the next time you decide to surprise a person, that you have your pistol ready before you get to their door? I heard the chamber click.”