Page 46

B ASH SNAPPED THE REINS AND glanced sideways at her on the milk cart, which they had paid the owner handsomely to rent for the day.

Evie’s ebony breeches revealed shapely limbs.

He averted his gaze. Even if they had a certificate of marriage, she was not his until she said she wished to be his completely.

Love was a good place to start. Given time together, he hoped for their relationship to grow.

First, he would court her in the manner she deserved, wooing her using that list of Wynn’s, which he had thankfully memorized, and learning all he could of her while sharing his memories, feelings, and hopes with her.

Then, perhaps one day, she would wish to become more—to raise a family of their own.

They crossed the streets of London, pausing at Wynn’s home long enough to bang on the door and ask for him to ride to fetch Telford.

Fortunately the barrister was in London for another yeoman’s wedding, so Bash gave Wynn instructions to pass along to him.

Telford would know what to do and how to look into granting custody of Grandmother to Bash, as well as the legality of his grandmother’s fortune being taken.

Bash had no need of the money himself, but he hated the idea of his cousin stealing from their grandmother.

He prayed that Grandmother’s good health would hold.

“And you are going to charge headlong into this asylum with your bride?” Wynn’s eyes widened at the sight of Evie in Bash’s clothing.

“It’s our only option,” Evie interjected.

Wynn nodded. “Godspeed then. I will ride for Telford at once.”

“If you are caught up in this, you are risking your position as a Royal Horse Guard,” Bash warned. “There is more afoot this night than what we were able to tell you.”

“I gathered, given that shiner you are sporting. Besides, you would do the same for me.” Wynn lifted his hand in farewell.

Bash directed the ancient horse and snapped the reins, hoping the plodding animal would speed it up.

“Where are you headed? The Bedlam asylum is in the other direction,” Vivienne whispered as Wynn’s home fell behind.

“As Bedlam is a private institution, I have no doubt that he sent her to St. Luke’s to avoid paying one farthing for her accommodation.”

“Lord, have mercy. He wouldn’t.” She pressed a hand to her stomach at the name of the infamous asylum reserved for those who could not afford Bedlam’s care.

Few visitors were allowed inside, and even fewer patients were ever released.

He had little idea of what the inside looked like—no one really knew besides the patients and the staff.

Unlike Bedlam, which allowed for visitors, the one free to patients was shrouded in mystery—and any mystery when dealing with the care of unfunded guests left little hope for their treatment.

“He stole a widow’s home and fortune. He has no moral compass.

No, I would bet my position that he took her to St. Luke’s, and I intend to get her. ”

It took a bit longer to reach that asylum, but as they approached Old Street, it was nearing five of the clock, when it appeared that the staff shifts were changing.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of the massive wall surrounding the imposing building of clamp brick—about five hundred feet long.

It appeared there was only one entrance, at the center, where a guard stood with a pike, poking at cobblestones.

Beyond the building to the left, the obelisk spire of St. Luke’s Church rose above the buildings, a glimmer of hope above such an ominous prospect.

“Bash, how on earth are we supposed to get inside? I was picturing it being a small building with a few windows and maybe another entrance. This is a fortress.”

“A fortress guarded by a sloth.” He pointed to the guard standing outside the gate, looking bored. “That’s our ticket inside.”

They climbed out of the cart, and Bash scowled at her swaying gait. “Walk like a man, Evie! Do you want to draw the eye of every seedy man about?”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m walking with purpose.” She gave a sample of her pace.

“You are wiggling.” He demonstrated, swaying his hips.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking from the effort of keeping her laughter at bay.

“’Tis not a laughing matter.” He gently chided as he sensed the banter helped her nerves. He placed his fists on his weapon harness. “Your disguise is the key to our success.”

“You are right. I’m sorry. Sometimes in tense situations I find that laughter is better than the fear.”

“As do I.” He motioned for her to try walking again. “Now, act like a man.”

She slouched her shoulders and kicked her legs as she walked. “How’s this?”

He ran a hand over his jaw and sighed. “It is a wonder that you escaped your stepbrother long enough to reach Bath if that is the extent of your acting skills.”

“It wasn’t that hard. You know very well that I was not disguised as a man for that adventure.”

“Let us be thankful you were not.” He grinned and grasped her hand. “Are you ready, my lady?”

She drew back her shoulders. “Let’s free an innocent woman.”

He released her and approached the guard, with Evie close on his heels. “Good morning, mister.”

The guard frowned as he craned his neck, looking down the street. His replacement must be taking his time arriving. “Is it? I was supposed to be in the cups by now with a wench on me arm.” He frowned at the approaching figure. “Where were you, George? You kept me waiting a good quarter of an hour.”

Bash tucked Evie into the shadows with him at the man’s approach.

George grunted, rubbing the sleep from his puffy eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here now, Frank.”

“Yeah, and you are going to owe me for keeping my silence about you being late for the third morning this week.”

“Have a drink on me.” George dug in his pocket and flicked him a copper.

Frank caught it with ease, slapped him on the shoulder, and ambled toward the pub.

Bash turned and followed Frank. “So you are keeper of the keys for the asylum?” Bash said casually as Evie strode beside them, her gait awkward. He fought to keep his expression relaxed.

Frank frowned. “What of it?”

Bash flipped a gold coin in the air, catching it with his palm and tossing it up again. “I have need of your keys. I will give you one guinea now for the use of the keys, one more for direction inside, and two more upon our escape.”

His eyes widened. “For such a sum, I could quit my job.” He licked his lips, his fingers twitching. It was only a matter of time before he agreed. “What do you and the young man have need of inside?”

Bash flipped the coin again. “Never you mind, but I like you. I shall add another coin for your silence.”

Frank grinned, revealing mottled yellow teeth. “Your servant.” He tossed him the keys. “Buy me a drink while I draw you a map of the inside.”

“With what paper?”

Frank lifted a small book of poems from his pocket and a nub of a pencil. “I get bored on the job and my girl likes it when I memorize poetry for her, so I mark the ones I memorize. Give me another copper and I will tear out the title page.”

Bash caught sight of Evie’s shoulders tensing, but she kept her face stern to hide her feminine features. “It would be a pleasure, but the lad is rather young to be exposed to such things.”

Frank roared with laughter. “If you think this pub is too rough for him, he has no business being inside St. Luke’s.”

“Fair enough, but we have no time to spare.” Bash withdrew another coin, handing it to the man.

He drew a rough sketch, mumbling instructions on where to find the women’s ward as he ripped out the title page.

“There are about three hundred cells inside. The men’s ward is on the left.

The women’s is on the right. It’s pretty straightforward.

You bring the keys to the Hare and Hen afterward, along with my money.

” He shoved the paper into Bash’s hands.

“If you don’t, I’ll tell the Bow Street Runners everything I know about you, and you’ll forfeit all anyway. ”

Bash nodded and scooted Evie away. “That was close,” he murmured, holding the map out for them both to study.

“Good thing you have all those special skills working for the Prince Regent, stealing from innocent young ladies. This should be child’s play for you.”

Bash swallowed back the laughter bubbling in his chest. “Good thing you think you have all the skills necessary to join me, based on your writing research.” He pointed at the map. “So he said that all staff entered and exited from the main door. No back door. That will complicate things.”

Evie nudged him, pointing to a group approaching the gates. “More staff?”

Bash nodded. “They most likely will not change the staff for another twelve hours.”

“There’s little chance we can sneak inside amongst them, even if we are posing as orderlies from Bedlam coming to fetch a patient.”

He nodded to the milk cart. “What if I were a deliveryman?”

“And I?”

He eyed three empty barrels outside the grocers beside the pub. He peered inside. “These look passably clean. I’ll purchase these from the owner. Would you like to be my delivery?”

Vivienne was the obvious one to clamber inside one of the three barrels Bash had stacked in the milk cart. Her knees pressed under her chin, and she tried not to think about her confined space, which was already making her limbs ache and smelled faintly of rotten apples. For Grandmother.

“Who are you?” she heard a gruff voice ask.

“They hired me last week. The other guard let me inside last time, but we were a bit slower this morning. You are George, aren’t you?”

“What’s in the cart?” George’s voice changed from outright hostility to caution.

“Nothing but lard for the cook.”