Page 51 of An Honorable Deception
He dragged in a long breath to keep himself calm. Samira now. Babs later. “Alethia is safe. She’s at my estate in Northumberland, and I assure you no one will get past my security. You needn’t worry about her—but she is quite rightly worried foryou.”
She was shaking her head. “You think any security can keep her safe for long? Any gate? Any guard?”
If it was her own father threatening her? Dread pulled him down. They’d left a note for her parents. He’d know where she was. He and Lady Barremore had returned from that house party a few days ago. Who knew if Vernon and Rheams and Dunne had confessed the failure yet or if they were still trying to cover it up, but hewouldfind out. There was that second letter he’d left for the lady.
So then, they’d move her. To the Abbey, for now. Then perhaps to Merrit’s uncle Preston’s estate. Who would think to look there? He conjured up a smile. “Idohave a lion with a stellar track record for protecting women in danger.”
She blinked at that, and the surprise of it had her arms dropping down a notch. That seemed promising. “I beg your pardon?”
He would have clarified. Would have tried another argument. If a sneeze hadn’t come from the wardrobe.
They both froze. Yates spun on his heel. Samira stood up, but if she meant to stop him, she wasn’t fast enough. He was already opening the wardrobe door.
A girl sat on the floor of it, her knees pulled up to her chest. She too had the features that said she’d come from India, a sheepish smile still innocent enough to make him think she hadn’t been here long. And when she said, “Pleasure to meet you, my lord,” it was a decidedly Cockney accent.
He didn’t know whether to smile or frown. He settled for crouching down so that he didn’t tower over her, and so that he wasn’t blocking the light. Even with it, he couldn’t tell how old she was. Eight? Ten? “And here my father swore there were no closet elves left in England, that the brownies had scared them off.”
The girl’s grin went brighter.
He held out a hand. “Yates.”
“Lucy.” She shook his hand like she greeted lords all the time and scurried out of the closet. Her gaze moved to Samira. “You should let him help you.”
Samira folded her arms over her chest. “I will let him helpyou.”
“Barclay will come for me. I told you, I only need a window. This place can’t keepmein.”
“Barclay?”
She smiled again. “My brother. More or less.”
Barclaydidn’t sound like the name of an Indian lass’s brother—but then,Lucydidn’t sound like her own name either. “Where are you from, Lucy?”
“Poplar.” She darted over to the window and examined it with the same practiced eye he’d used. “But that’s not where the marks are. I was in Mayfair when they nabbed me yesterday and hauled me to this place—though apparently the ‘special patron’ they nabbed mefordidn’t show until now. Barclay’d have been in a panic when I wasn’t back by nightfall, though, and my sisters will be scouring the city for me. Now’s definitely the time to get out.”
His brows rose a bit more with each additional piece of information. “Sisters?” he said.Marks?he thought.
She opened the window and peered down as best she could, given the grate. He had no doubt she could fit between the bars, but she eased back down off her toes, uncertainty on her face. “These stories are farther apart than I thought. Cathedral ceilings on the ground floor, I suppose?”
Too far a drop for her comfort, it seemed. Yates slipped his hands into his pockets. “If you don’t want to wait for Barclay, I’ll catch you. For that matter, if you’re not fond of heights, I can carry you down.”
She blinked at him like an owl. “The stairs? You seem to’ve pulled the wool over those blokes’ eyes, Yates, but they’re not going to let you carry me out of here. Five minutes ago was the first I’d been out of their guard’s sight.”
“Down thewall.” He nodded toward it. Grinned. “I’ll have to go down the stairs first. No wayI’llfit through there. But then I’ll climb up. You can slip through, get on my back. I’ll climb down with you.” Darkness had claimed the cityscape at this point, and these windows faced nothing but the blank brick wall of the next building, a narrow ribbon of alleyway between them. The perfect cover.
Samira moved to Lucy’s side, storm clouds in her eyes. “What kind of lord scales walls? And has lions on his estate?”
He shrugged. “The kind who gets bored easily?”
Lucy was nodding. “Deal. And then you can come back for Samira.”
“Deal,” he echoed.
But Samira backed up a step. “Take Lucy out. See her back to her family—but I’m not going.”
Maybe, if he couldn’t hear the shadowed symphony of dread and fear and resignation in her voice, he would have thought she really didn’t want to leave. That she was bound to his lordship by some twisted form of loyalty or affection.
But it wasn’t that. He knew it wasn’t. She honestly believed that if she stepped out of this house, Alethia would be harmed.
