Page 14

S IR S EBASTIAN WAS TRUE TO his vow to see that her secret was safe until the morrow.

He played the part of a concerned spouse as he escorted them to the left of the building to the colonnade for sedan chairs, paying to place her and Charlotte in the chairs, despite her protests.

It was only a few minutes’ walk to reach her home.

But he insisted and dutifully strode behind them until they reached her home.

He was regarding the terrace home as Vivienne stepped out of her sedan chair.

She was thankful to see lights flickering in the windows, welcoming her home after such a horrid night.

She nodded to Charlotte, who slipped inside, leaving Vivienne with Sebastian, who tipped the men that had carried them home.

She hadn’t needed the ride, and the cost was more than she wished to pay. “Thank you for escorting us home, Sir Sebastian. If you wait here a moment, I can fetch coins enough to reimburse you.”

“There is no need.”

“There is every need. A gentleman should not pay for a woman’s way unless—”

“Unless they are married, and until tomorrow we are.” He smiled sadly. “I’m afraid I have not changed my mind on the timeline, but may I ask where you hail from and what is your real name?”

She glanced back at the front door, where Charlotte stood watching from the sidelight. “I am reluctant to share such information with a perfect stranger.”

“I think I have earned that right, and besides, how might I find you after you retire using my name if someone directs mail to my place of residence? I promise I have no ill plans toward you.”

“I doubt that will happen, but you are correct that you deserve to know.” She sighed.

“I am Miss Vivienne Poppy of Chilham, in the county of Kent. My stepmother is the late Mrs. Hart-Poppy. My stepbrother, Lucius Hart, resides in Chilham, but forgive me if I do not volunteer his address. I have little wish for him to be alerted and even less for him to come fetch me.”

He lifted his hat. “Your confidence will not be cast aside, Miss Poppy. Until tomorrow.”

She nodded and slipped inside, her shoulders sagging in defeat as her friend embraced her. “Oh, Charlotte, what are we to do now?”

“We pray for a miracle.”

The lights were out now. Bash affixed his highwayman mask, tying it low enough to hide it under his collar, and tugged on his wide-brimmed black hat to disguise his missing locks.

He directed Brigand to the back door, which had a ledge wide enough to secure a foothold if he grasped the windowsill above it while Brigand stood beneath it.

The transition from standing atop his saddle to the doorframe was fluid.

He at once pivoted and reached for the first-floor windowsill.

He shoved it open and climbed through, his boots landing lightly on the hardwood floor. He paused. The house was silent.

From his time watching her home before, he thought she lived on the first floor.

He padded down to the room he believed was hers and paused outside the door.

He might just leave the funds at her door, but dare he trust such an amount with servants about?

He pushed open the door and, on the tips of his boots, strode inside her bedroom.

The curtains had been left wide open, the window cracked, allowing fresh air and moonlight to fill the spacious chamber.

Her soft snoring came from under the mound of covers.

He swallowed a chuckle at her being sprawled across the bed.

It was little wonder she could not sleep out of doors on the ground if that was how she usually slept.

He strode to the window seat and set the purse on her book, the coins rattling.

Her snoring jolted, and he stilled, waiting for her breathing to even again. She jerked up in bed, eyes on him.

“Bash.” Her tone was even, as if she wasn’t surprised to see him in her bedroom—nor afraid.

“Evie.”

“So you did return to rob me again.” She sighed. “I knew I should not have given you my address.”

He grinned. “To trust a highwayman is never encouraged.”

“Indeed. I spy a leather purse on my window seat.” She slipped from her bed, drawing a blanket around her shoulders to cover her thin nightgown. “Pray, what are you stealing from me now?”

He did not move away, letting her approach him … How could he bolt when he had thought of little but her since their parting? Tonight they had held each other’s hands as they’d stood together for the minuet, but it was not with the familiarity of the highwayman and his lady, as he had wished.

“You are not afraid I shall scream?” she whispered. She stood before him now, gazing up at him with those wide eyes.

“The rules from the other night still stand.” He grinned. “I trust you would not wish to risk your reputation by alerting all to the man standing in your bedroom.”

She laughed softly. “Nay. My reputation is all I have left.” She lifted the purse and plucked the rolled note in the knotted string. “‘From your honorable highwayman.’” She shook the bag. “And yet from the sound of this letter, it does not seem you are stealing my jewels. What are you about, Bash?”

“I decided I did not need your money.” He leaned against the window frame, crossing his arms as he studied her.

“The pouch is far too heavy to be my money alone.” She looked up at him through thick lashes.

He shrugged. “It was your idea. For the trouble I put you through, I’ve added a small sum. Consider it a lesson on investment opportunities. Some adventuring pays in dividends, and others in disaster.”

She opened the bag, gasping. “One would think you are sweet on me. There is enough in here to see me through the year!”

“One would be right in assuming so.” He dared to reach out and brush a curl from her cheek. She did not jerk away. Was it his imaginings or did she relax, as if she missed his touch as much as he did hers? “Do not give my weakness away. I have a reputation of my own to uphold in the underworld.”

“I will not.” She leaned into his palm, her voice strained. “I thought calling yourself a noble thief was an impossible promise, and here, you have proven me wrong with a generosity I have not experienced from a man since my father’s death.”

He swiped his thumb under her lash, capturing a tear. “Not all noblemen wear finery, my lady.” He tossed open the window and hitched his right leg over the sill.

She gripped his arm. “Whatever are you about? You’ll fall to your death if you do not take care.”

He grinned. “Have you forgotten my talents already?” He released a low, sharp whistle.

The clopping of hooves brought a smile to her cheeks.

“Of course. Brigand is your partner in every situation. You are fortunate that I have only two people under my roof and they are even more exhausted than I.” She moved to the side table and lifted the lid to a small china pot.

“I didn’t clean up after tea.” She grasped his hand and dropped sugar lumps into his palm. “Thank him for me.”

If he leaned forward, her lips would meet his.

At her flushing face, it seemed the lady was not opposed.

But what kind of knight would that make me?

He pocketed the lumps and tipped the brim of his hat.

He swung his left leg through the opening, gripping the sill as his feet found purchase at the ridge.

“Bash,” she whispered, leaning out of the window.

With her braid spilling over her shoulder, she was fairly impossible not to kiss. “Yes, my lady?”

“I have not turned you in, and after tonight, I may not yet.”

Her smile nearly made him forget he was perched on the ledge.

“Farewell, my lady. May God bless you.” Gripping the colonnade with one arm, he released the window.

Stretching out his body, he dropped to the first-floor ridge.

From that ledge he repeated the action and was face-to-face with the frieze and its triglyphs and emblems. It was an easy drop onto Brigand, who was standing at the entryway.

Bash glanced up to see her leaning through the window, her golden hair still spilling over her shoulder as she observed him. He voiced his hope. “Until we meet again, my lady.” He wheeled Brigand about and into a trot.

Bash removed his mask the moment he faded from Evie’s view.

Once through Bath, he urged his mount into a gallop.

He would be home at Lark Manor within the hour, as it was only a few miles outside Bath.

The ride was shorter than he remembered …

but that was likely due to his mind being occupied with thoughts of the lovely Evie Poppy.

The manor was alight yet, and just the sight of it made his heart pound with longing to be within its walls once more.

He had loved growing up here. His grandmother had taken the place of his sweet mother after she had passed when he was but six years of age.

It would be a wonder to see Grandmother again after nearly a year apart.

He hadn’t intended to be gone for so long, but being a yeoman left little room for family visits, especially when the Prince Regent kept him so busy.

He passed through the iron gates and dismounted, his boots scattering the gravel underfoot.

He left Brigand’s reins over his back, trusting him not to wander too far.

He rang the bell and waited at the door, shifting from foot to foot, wondering what was ailing Grandmother that kept the servants up so late.

The butler answered. Ladd’s eyes widened before he stepped aside to allow Bash entrance. “Sir Sebastian? Thank God you arrived home in time.”

Ladd’s tone halted Bash’s greeting. His stomach sank. He should’ve never delayed his arrival for a masquerade ball, even if it had been for the sake of protecting Grandmother. “What’s wrong? Has she taken a turn?”

“This afternoon, sir. We feared the worst had come, but she received a correspondence two hours ago that brought a bloom to her cheeks, and she was able to drink some broth.” His words were tinged with newfound hope.

Bash dropped his hat in the butler’s ready hands and raced up the steps two at a time, his greatcoat fluttering behind him.

As he halted outside her door, his breathing coming quick, he bowed his head.

Lord, please, I cannot lose her. Please don’t let me lose her.

She’s all I have left. He slowly opened the door.

The fire crackled in the hearth, and in the massive bed was a form too small to be the grand lady he knew and loved.

How had she weakened so in only a year? He crossed the room, his throat catching at the sight of her gray skin and her lovely silver locks spread over the silk pillowcase.

A letter rested in her hand. He sank onto the side of the bed, making the mattress dip, and took her free hand in his.

Her pulse was impossibly faint. “Dear heart, I am home.”

Her stubby white lashes flickered, the aging blue eyes at once lighting in recognition. “Sebastian, my sweet boy. You’ve come home to me at last.” Her withered, mottled hand reached for his cheek, stroking it tenderly. “And without your hair it seems. Whatever possessed you to part with it?”

“Necessity.” He smiled, then leaned into her papery hand and pressed it to his lips. “How are you feeling, Grandmother?”

“The good doctor thought I would be gone by now.” Her words came in pants, as if even speaking was trying for her. “B-but I surprised them all.”

“What does he know?” His voice sounded rough to his ears.

“A great deal, but there is one thing he did not take into account.” Her eyes sparkled as she lifted the paper an inch toward him. “The power of a dream long since dreamed.”

He relieved her of the letter but did not take his gaze from hers. “What do you dream?”

She lifted a shaky hand, pointed her finger, and weakly jabbed it into his chest. “You. My dear friend s-said that she heard … a Lady Larkby has made quite the splash in Bath. You have given me a new life, my sweet boy, with the hope that I might live to meet her before I go home to my Lord and Savior.” She seemed to gain vitality as she spoke and looked beyond his shoulder.

“Where is she? Where is my new granddaughter? I-I long to hear about your whirlwind romance from a female.”

The hope in her voice pierced him. How could he tell this sweet woman that her hopes were in vain?

He lifted her hand to his lips. Indeed, it was impossible.

“It was undeniably a whirlwind romance. She is from Bath and is packing her things as we speak. She will arrive to Lark Manor on the morrow.” God, forgive me, but surely, this is the nobler path, yes?