A Most Dangerous Profession(30)



“We should . . . leave . . . right away.” Her lips had gotten difficult to move.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Are you worried . . . that I might still beat you to Ross’s?”

Robert looked inordinately amused. “If we were to leave this room at the exact same second, I would reach our destination first.”

“I was . . . beating you . . . before . . . the accident.”

“You wouldn’t have had an accident if you hadn’t been pushing so hard.” His brows lowered. “You took a very foolish chance.”

She’d have taken a million other, more dangerous chances to win Rowena’s release. She started to say so, but her mind was already slipping away. And within seconds, she was fast asleep.





CHAPTER 9





From the diary of Michael Hurst, awaiting his release from the sulfi holding him hostage.


I’ve received word that William is on his way with the onyx box. I hate to give it up, but what must be, must be. I hope he also remembers the port I requested last month. Being in such close quarters with Miss Smythe-Haughton is taking a toll. Despite my warnings she has tried to develop a friendship with my captor, with dire consequences. The man now thinks himself enamored of her and has offered to purchase her.

I must admit, I am sorely tempted. I certainly hope William remembers the port.

The next time Moira awoke, the sun was well up in the afternoon sky. In Robert’s place by the bed was an overly cheery maid named Firtha, who began to flit about the room and chatter nonstop in a way that made Moira’s mood even less sunny.

With Firtha’s help, Moira washed and changed into a fresh gown. Though the simple tasks tired her, she felt much better. She should be ready to travel come morning. “Firtha, I’m starving.”

“Och, miss, I’ll ha’ a tray brought immediately.” Firtha rang a bell and asked the answering footman to bring some luncheon, while Moira moved to a comfortable chair by the crackling fireplace. She hoped for a little peace with her meal, but with her tray came her hostess.

Lady Anne was a broad-faced woman dressed in a new frilly gown that reflected last year’s fashions to perfection. Obviously glad for some company other than servants, she welcomed Moira and then recounted the exciting events of the day of the accident, asking a myriad of questions.

Moira answered every inquiry politely, glad that as the conversation continued, her hostess seemed quite content to carry on both sides. That left Moira to her own thoughts.

Perhaps the time had come to include Robert in her plans to obtain the onyx box. She had a risky idea of how to retrieve it without Lord Ross being any the wiser, and a little help would be welcome. But the truly big question, the one that burned in her heart, was how did Robert feel about Rowena? Once they freed her, would he wish for custody? Panic immediately began to rise at the thought.

I can’t think about that now; I’ve got to get that box to win her freedom. And the sooner I speak to Robert about it, the better. She picked up her teacup and waited for her hostess to pause for a breath. “Lady Anne, I would like to visit my husband before dinner. We need to plan our travel now that one of the coaches is gone and—” She stopped at Lady Anne’s incredulous gaze.

“But my dear, I thought you knew. Mr. Hurst already left.”

Moira set the teacup into the dish so hard that it rattled. “What?”

“He didn’t say good-bye, but left us a very nice letter.” Lady Anne grimaced. “Oh, dear, he left you a letter, too. I should have thought of it, but I was so happy to see you sitting up that—Firtha! Pray go downstairs to the front hall and bring back the letter addressed to Mrs. Hurst.”

The maid dipped a curtsy and left while Moira curled her hands about the arms of her chair in frustration. He left me a letter? Why in hell didn’t he just wake me up and tell me he was leaving? But she knew the answer: she would have argued and he didn’t wish to hear her objections. The coward!

Lady Anne sighed. “I can see you’re upset, and no wonder. Men can be so impatient.”

“What time did he leave?”

“Early this morning. I’m surprised I didn’t hear his coach being brought around, for my bedchamber is right off the main courtyard and I’m a notoriously light sleeper. If he hadn’t left a note we would never have known he was gone until breakfast.”

“He can be very impulsive.” And arrogant, and a great pain in the ass, too.

Karen Hawkins's Books