Page 54 of Lady and the Scamp

He winced. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I should have told you before we...before. I couldn’t have told you everything, but I should have told you something about who I really am. Please believe that everything between us last night was real.”

He heard a sound that might have been a sniffle. “I’d like to believe that, but—”

The sound of low voices approaching silenced her as they both tensed. Will could have sworn at the bad timing of the approaching group. It seemed that Emily was finally softening towards him. Now he might never know what could have been. Two men and a woman came through the drizzle. None of the party carried an umbrella, and Will made space for Emily beside him as the group neared the warehouse. She peered out from under the canvas, watching their approach. One of the men produced a key to the warehouse, opened the door, and a moment later, a lamp flickered in the window.

“That’s most likely a sign that all is clear,” Will whispered. “There will be more arriving shortly. Did you recognize any of those three?”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s hard to tell with the rain and the shadows, but they didn’t seem familiar.” A moment passed in silence. “Are those really the assassins? The ones who tried to kill the queen and then attacked the coach?”

“Some may be the same, yes.” He reached for her hand and took it in his. Hers was small and cold, even with her gloves on. “They can’t see you here. Stay under the canvas and don’t move. You’re safe.”

Of course, she would have been safer in her chambers in the palace, but there was nothing to be done about that now. She’dleft that safety, and then offered to be of assistance. And he needed her. The Crown needed her.

Her hand on his tightened, and he cut his gaze toward the sound of approaching voices. The voices were low and hushed, and soon two more men were visible, followed by a lone woman then a lone man. “That’s seven,” he whispered when all were behind the closed door. “Do you know any of them?”

“That last man had his hat pulled low. But he didn’t seem familiar. I’m sorry.” She turned her head, and her face was quite close to his under the canvas. “I don’t think I’ll be any help after all.”

Will debated what to do next. He could take her back to London. That was the safest option. At least it was safer for her—not the queen. Once again, he felt torn between his duty and his feelings for Emily. He had sworn to protect the queen, but his heart had made a different vow. His heart wanted to keep Emily safe.

“Two more,” she whispered, going very still beside him. Will squinted and spotted the men coming from the opposite direction. Wherever the others had been, these two had not been with them. They didn’t speak, and the shorter man walked with his arm slung about the taller man’s shoulders. It was an awkward way to walk and drew Will’s attention because the shorter man’s hand was clamped on the other man’s shoulder—almost as if he was leading the man.

Or directing him.

Emily’s hand squeezed Will’s, and he glanced at her, careful not to turn his head or make any movement under the canvas. The afternoon was gloomy, but it wouldn’t be enough to hide them when they were so close to the approaching men. The shorter man opened the door and then stood aside to allow the other to enter first. The taller man paused, looked about him,then ducked and entered. The shorter man followed, closing the door behind him.

Will waited for thirty long seconds, counting them off and making certain no one else approached. Then he pulled the canvas down and turned to Emily. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but he could feel her trembling. “You knew him?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Which one? The taller man?” That made the most sense. He was being led by the other.

“Yes. I think he is a footman in the palace. I recognize him because—I just recognize him.”

Of course, footmen were supposed to be tall and strong. The taller man fit that criteria, from what Will had seen.

“Do you know his name?”

He heard her breathing, could all but hear her thinking. “James? John?”

They were typical names given to male servants and probably bore no relation to the man’s actual name. “You’re certain?” Will asked.

“Not certain, no,” she said. “I can’t be certain. Not from this distance and in this drizzle.”

Will wanted to leave it there. He wanted to hail a hackney and take her back to London, back to the palace. Then he wanted to spend the rest of the night apologizing to her for all the wrongs, real and imagined, he’d done.

But he couldn’t do that. He had a duty.

Will lifted the canvas again and surveyed the area. He watched for at least a quarter of an hour, and when he was certain no one else approached, he pushed the canvas back and hopped off the wagon.

“What are you doing?” Emily hissed.

“We are taking a closer look,” Will told her. She gaped at him as though he must be mad. He held his hands out. “Come on then.”

She shook her head but took his hands. He helped her rise then lifted her down from the wagon by the waist. And if he allowed his hands to linger on her waist just a little longer than was necessary, she didn’t remark. He straightened the canvas back on the wagon so it looked undisturbed then took Emily’s hand and led her toward the side of the warehouse. The last thing Will wanted was to be standing at the front window when someone decided to step outside for a smoke or a piss.

But there were no windows on the side of the warehouse and when he went around the back, there was only a large door, big enough to open most of the back of the warehouse so that goods might be delivered by wagon. A rusty padlock had been clamped on it, and he tugged at the thing, but it was solid. He didn’t have any of the tools he typically used to pick locks, not that he was very good at it at any rate. Will made his way back around the side of the warehouse to where Emily waited.

“Well?” she whispered.

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