Page 77 of How to Fall for a Scoundrel
He was probably spending his time entertaining Hugo, but she missed him, more than she’d thought possible. She wondered if he thought of her at all.
She spent her time researching the layout and history of the Tower, and trying to think of alternative ways to get inside the walls if her request for a tour was denied. It would have been easier a few years ago, when the Royal Mint had been housed there. They could have disguisedthemselves as one of the many hundred workers employed there, and slipped through the gates.
Or they could pretend to be delivering ale to one of the inns that provided food and drinks to the garrison of soldiers and yeomen guards stationed within the walls.
Her mind whirled with possibilities.
If their visit proved successful, and the doctor’s notes proved that Harry was indeed the rightful Earl of Cobham, she would be happy for him, even if it meant that she’d probably lose him in the subsequent social whirl.
Armed with a title to accompany his good looks, money, and quick wit, he’d be inundated. Every debutante, spinster, matchmaking mamma, and widow would be hoping to catch his eye or become the next countess, and despite the fun they’d had together, she was sure he’d choose someone other than herself.
“What will we do if the documents aren’t in the Tower?”
Ellie glanced up at Tess and frowned. She’d been daydreaming, looking out of the window at the tree-lined square, but it was almost as if Tess had been reading her thoughts.
“It’s certainly a possibility,” she said slowly. “Emberton could have lied about leaving them there. Or someone could have discovered them by accident and disposed of them. I suppose if we come back empty-handed, we’ll just have to try every other avenue of investigation before we admit defeat.”
A letter bearing the seal of the Lord Chamberlain’s office finally arrived the following Tuesday, and Ellie ripped it open with impatient fingers.
She let out a shriek of triumph that caused Daisy to miss her playing card target; her knife embedded itself in the frame of a charming painting of Venice that Tess had hung on the wall.
Tess appeared in the doorway. “You’ve been granted a tour of the Tower?”
“Yes! With the Keeper of the Jewel House, a gentleman by the name of Edmund Swifte.”
“When?” Daisy demanded.
Ellie checked the letter again. “I’m to present myself, and one guest, at the Lion’s Gate entrance at nine o’clock on Friday night. I’ll write and tell Harry.”
“You mean you don’t want Tess or me to go with you?” Daisy teased.
“Well, you have to admit that finding the documents is more important to Harry than to either of you. And while you’re both excellent partners when it comes to being sneaky and creating diversions, I think we can all agree that Harry is the master.”
Tess laughed. “That he is.”
Harry’s reply was short and sweet.
I’ll be ready. H
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ellie dressed with care for the Tower, in a practical blue dress and a dark navy cloak, and by the time Harry’s coach pulled up at the front door she was almost shimmering with nervous energy.
Remembering rule number three, she’d armed herself with a small folding knife—the kind that might come in useful for opening a letter, not for stabbing someone. Daisy had offered her a blade, but Ellie had refused on the grounds that she’d probably slice off her own fingers if she tried to use it.
Her leg started jiggling with nervous excitement as she sat on the seat opposite Harry, and he leaned forward and pressed his hand to her knee, stilling the motion. The warmth of his palm spread through her skirts and the silk of her stockings, and heat spread up her leg at his touch.
She wanted to cross the carriage and sit next to him, to have him put his arm around her and hug her, but she didn’t move.
His face alternated between light and darkness as they passed the rows of newly installed gas street lamps.
“I’ve wanted to prove who I am for years,” he said softly. “But since coming back to London, since working with you, that desire’s become even more imperative.”
Ellie frowned. She was about to ask what he meant, but the carriage rocked to a stop in front of the impressively high walls of the Tower. The crenellated tops disappeared up into the darkness.
Determined to see as much as possible, she slipped her glasses onto her nose.
An imposing stone gate with two rounded turrets and a carved royal crest above the entrance stood before them, the way barred by a set of black ironwork gates. Two yeomen, in their uniforms of scarlet and gold, stood guard, but when Harry approached, a third man dressed in a dark coat and white shirt stepped out of the shadows.