Chapter 32

32

T ime ticked by slowly, testing Samantha's patience to the limit. Still she waited, her stomach tight in anticipation, each breath a controlled effort to steady her nerves. She could not afford to make mistakes now by rushing to Adrian's side.

"Take these with you as well." Standing below stairs in the hallway connecting the back entrance to the door leading out from the kitchen, she handed the traveling bags to Murry. The files she'd ordered him to collect had been packed into satchels that he, Ward, and Turner would transport out of the City. "I'll meet you later as discussed. Now go."

Murry curled his large fists around the handles on each of the bags, his expression grim, assessing, weighing whether or not to follow her orders. "Are you sure this plan will work?"

Failure wasn't an option, so she gave a quick nod, even though she knew damn well any number of things could go wrong. If she only had to save herself, it might have been different. But with Adrian watching for Lady Eleanor's murderer and the authorities closing in, the situation was unpredictable.

"Distraction is our only option." She glanced at her pocket watch, saw the time, and strode for the kitchen door while pulling a cap down over her head. "If you can lead the rest of those bloodhounds astray, my husband and I might stand a chance."

Her only awareness of Murry's departure was the sound of the door leading out to the mews slamming shut. She'd watched from her bedchamber window when Emma had left and had seen the two hackneys fall in behind the Croft carriage.

There was no need to check the back entrance to know this would also be watched. Which meant Kendrick knew she would try to protect Adrian. He'd figured her out and would without doubt make her pay the price if he caught her.

First things first though. She had to warn Adrian so he could flee – maybe get him out of the country if need be. With all the servants on alert, a hush had settled upon the kitchen, everyone watching and waiting for something to happen.

Shoulder pressed against the kitchen door, Samantha peered up at the street and said a quick prayer. Even though the stairwell obscured her view slightly, she did not miss the clatter of hooves and spoked wheels as a carriage raced through Portman Square. Determined to use every second Murry provided to her advantage, she hefted an empty crate onto her shoulder and pushed the door open.

She was already striding along the pavement when two additional hackneys rumbled by in pursuit of Murry. Not slowing her pace, she scanned her surroundings, attempting to pick out anyone looking remotely suspicious. To her relief, she recognized the few people she saw as servants from neighboring houses and Mr. Jenkins, who lived on the opposite side of the square.

Dismissing him on account of his age, which made it unlikely for him to be part of Kendrick's scheme, she headed toward Oxford Street. From there she'd hire a hackney so she could reach the harbor, pick up Adrian, and get the hell out of the City.

Shadowing a skillfully trained agent like Mrs. Croft was no simple feat. She'd worn a careful disguise when she'd left Croft House by way of the service entrance, and the dim evening light made it all the more effective. Peter Kendrick's hackney driver hadn't even realized she was the woman he was supposed to follow and had consequently remained where he was.

The upside to this was that Mrs. Croft didn't know Peter had not been fooled by her ploy. Unfortunately, it also meant she was able to put a good distance between them, nearly disappearing completely from view before he got out of the hackney, paid the driver, and went in pursuit.

Catching a fleeting glimpse of her as she took a left turn and vanished from sight, he broke into a light jog, careful to stop and peek round the corner in case she threw a glance over her shoulder. Oxford Street was busier than the side street they'd come from, with several pedestrians obscuring his view. It would also hamper hers, he realized, as he continued walking. He fell behind a couple of ladies, his even strides ensuring he kept his distance while using their bodies as shields.

Mrs. Croft was right up ahead, the crate she'd carried when she'd left her house discarded at some point along the way. Were it not for the fact that he'd noted the color and style of her clothes, he'd never have guessed the person he followed was female. Her disguise was impeccable, right down to the manner in which she walked, her long even strides as purposeful as any man's.

It was remarkable to watch. Even her shoulders were squared off, the cut of her jacket concealing the feminine silhouette hidden beneath.

She glanced to one side, toward the traffic, and suddenly hopped off the pavement, her hand shooting upward to hail an approaching hackney. Peter slowed his pace as he came up alongside a parked carriage and a delivery cart.

He stepped between them, glanced toward the hackney which had now stopped, and barely managed to catch Mrs. Croft instructing the driver on where to take her before her gaze turned in his direction. A sharp intake of breath filled his lungs as he pulled back from view. His heart raced as he wondered whether or not she'd managed to spot him.

Closing his eyes, he did his best to filter the street noise around him, intent on the one sound he needed. It finally came – a bit faint but certain enough – wood meeting wood as a door was pulled shut.

Daring a look, Peter poked his head out from hiding just in time to see the hackney drive off. It moved at a steady pace, but was slightly hampered by traffic. Seeing no other hackneys nearby, he knew there was only one option if he was to stay on Mrs. Croft's tail.

He'd have to make a run for it.

So he broke into a sprint, racing after the vehicle as fast as he could. It didn't take long before his lungs burned, his heart pounding against his ribs just as hard as his feet hit the ground. A carriage pulling into traffic farther ahead came as a blessing, forcing Mrs. Croft's hackney to slow and… Merciful heavens, it pulled to a stop.

Peter pushed himself harder. The vehicle wasn't far now, just another ten yards at most. He had to reach it before it set off again. His gaze was already on the axel, gauging the decreasing distance. Increasing his pace until it felt like he'd choke on each breath, he reached out and grabbed it, pulled himself to it, and managed to climb on right as the carriage lurched into motion once more.

The momentum sent him reeling, hands reaching for anything that might stop his body from sliding off the wood rod that connected the wheels. Gasping for air, he twisted and managed to grab the right mudguard. A bit of uneven roading nearly made him topple right off, his muscles straining to pull his body into a more secure position. It took a moment that involved scooting backward so he could rest his shoulders against the cabin, legs dangling over the edge while he held on with all his might.

Ragged breaths worked their way in and out of his lungs, gradually slowing until he no longer felt as though his heart was about to explode. Despite the discomfort of his position, there was much satisfaction in knowing success would be his. He'd soon be apprehending the woman who'd managed to outsmart Lord Carver.

And he could not wait to see Sir Nigel's face when he brought her and Croft to Bow Street.

It was nearing nine o'clock when he received the note his mistress had sent him. His lips curled as he read the urgent words she'd written:

"A constable was just here to see me. I'm not sure how, but he knows we're involved and began asking questions. Specifically regarding you and your employer's whereabouts on August 15th. I told him you were here, but I'm not sure he believed me. Please come and see me so we can discuss this and so I will know what to say in case he returns."

He crumpled the paper, tossed it into his bin, and set it on fire. He watched the edges turn black, the paper ball shriveling as it burned. It was earlier than he was used to when making his late-night visits to Genevieve's lodgings. Extra precautions would have to be taken.

So he rang for his butler and told the man that he planned to retire. The staff was dismissed. A fifteen-minute wait followed, just to be sure no one lingered downstairs. Silence settled upon the house, a few more minutes ticked by, and he finally left his bedchamber, careful to lock the door firmly behind him.

Positioned in a nearby alley with a direct view of Miss Fontaine's building, Adrian pressed back into the darkness. The pungent smell of rotten seaweed licked at his nose. The rowdy chatter of sailors enjoying drinks at a nearby tavern filtered through the cool air.

It seemed like forever since he and Samantha had parted ways. At least two hours, he reckoned. Murry ought to have shown up by now. Odd that he hadn't and something of a problem as well. It prevented Adrian from entering Miss Fontaine's lodgings and guarding her door. Doing so without the others blocking the exit would just allow the killer to turn and run as soon as he saw him .

Now Adrian had to wait outside and approach from behind if he was to trap the man inside the building. A flaw that put Miss Fontaine at greater risk.

Adrian cursed but dismissed all potential concerns when the sound of a carriage approaching caught his attention. The vehicle clattered onto the cobbled street that led to the docks, the horses whinnying as their driver pulled on the rains.

A door opened on the opposite side from Adrian and someone stepped down. Payment was made and the driver allowed himself a moment to sort something out before flicking the horses onward, the clip-clop of hooves and creaking of wheels slowly fading as they moved away.

Adrian ignored all but the masculine figure disappearing into Miss Fontaine's building. He pushed away from the wall and crossed the street, reaching the door at the same exact moment an older woman came the opposite way.

The woman stopped to stare Adrian up and down while blocking the entrance. "I've not seen you here before. Mind if I inquire about your errand?"

"I'm Miss Fontaine's brother. Just got into Town and thought I'd come by first thing, see how she's faring before I head off to the inn." He attempted a bland expression accompanied by a polite smile.

"Now might not be the best time. I reckon she's entertaining Mr. Trenton at the moment. Just saw him go up."

Adrian did his best to feign outrage. "There's a man with her?"

"Not unusual for a woman in her line of work," the old woman said, her voice critical. A soft knock fell on a door upstairs, and Adrian pushed his way past her, jostling her with his shoulder. "Mind your manners, will you."

Muttering a hasty apology, he started up the stairs, the scrape of his boots against each step masked by the creaking of hinges as somebody opened a door.

"Thank goodness you're here." Miss Fontaine's hushed voice was filled with concern. A rustling sound followed, then the snick of a door being closed.

Adrian flew up the remaining stairs, the unforeseen delay and the lack of assistance he'd received causing concern to fester deep in his gut. There would be no escape for the man he was after. Trapped in Miss Fontaine's apartment, the scoundrel would not have a chance to flee. But what of Miss Fontaine's safety?

He could only pray she wouldn't be harmed as he found her door and thrust his shoulder against it as hard as he could.

Wood splintered and buckled, granting Adrian entrance. Miss Fontaine shrieked. The man who stood before her whirled, a menacing gleam in his bright blue eyes.

"Mr. Croft," he sneered. "I ought to have known."

Adrian stepped toward him. "Looks like there's been a miracle, Mr. Lawrence, for it does indeed seem as though you can walk."