Must Love Breeches (34 page)

That evening, Ada and Isabelle worked their way through the crush of bodies at the Edgerton ball. Isabelle had filled Ada in on recent events, including the fact Lord Montagu now knew her secret. She omitted the not quite so little matter of their having had sex, but she told her everything else. So Ada could better understand her predicament, she did confess her growing feelings for Lord Montagu.

What had happened to him, though? He’d said he’d be here. In fact, during their long carriage ride back to London, he had said this was the last house he needed to search. While he hadn’t confessed all he was up to, she trusted him enough not to pry further. But his absence worried her.

Had he already arrived and begun snooping? What if someone caught him? A chill streaked up her spine. If something happened to him—

Fare thee well! and if forever,
Still forever, fare thee well
Lord Byron,
Fare Thee Well
, 1816

Phineas rummaged through the mahogany desk dominating Lord Edgerton’s study. Not surprisingly, the unlocked drawers had elicited nothing out of the ordinary.

His entire focus now centered on the one drawer left, enticingly locked.

Phineas retrieved his set of picks enclosed in a worn, leather pouch, and rolled it open. He studied his foe. Thankfully, it was a simple two-pin lock. He slid out a small, hooked pick and a standard torque wrench from his array of tools. He inserted the pick and closed his eyes, the better to concentrate and visualize the position of the pins. The tip of his tongue darted back and forth at the edge of his lips while he worked the pick.

The final pin clicked into place a few minutes later, and Phineas smiled. He tugged on the handle, the rasp of wood against wood like the sigh of a lover giving up her secrets. The drawer’s interior revealed a leather-bound journal as the sole occupant. Surely this would contain the evidence he sought. He withdrew it and closed the drawer.

The usual satisfaction he felt at such a moment was absent. Instead, it was his interactions with Isabelle that fired his blood now. And she could not be his.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Cursing silently, he stashed the journal inside his coat and glanced around the room. Behind a curtain would have to suffice. He picked up his candle, licked his thumb and forefinger, and snuffed it. He stepped onto the broad windowsill, letting the heavy brocade curtain swing back and hide him from view.

Had he left everything in its former place? He had closed the drawer, but there had been no way to relock it. Uncertainty gripped him, but it was too late to check. He was reasonably certain his candle’s glow had been too feeble to show under the door. He steadied his breathing and strained to hear, careful to keep his body from touching the curtain.

The door opened and quick footsteps approached the desk and his hiding place.

Another pair of footsteps entered, but more slowly. The soft glow of a candle showed through the curtain.

“Well, Edgerton, what was so urgent you had to drag me from Miss Dalton’s delectable form? I nearly have her won over, you know. By God, this had better be important.”

“Sorry to ruin your designs on the Dalton chit, my man, but I am having increasing doubts about this business. A damnable affair. Are you entirely certain no one outside our group
knows
?”

Phineas tensed. It would be providential indeed if they discussed the affairs that concerned him most.

“Of course no one knows. You are worrying about nothing, as usual.” A scrape of a match, a flare of light, and a pungent smell evidenced a pipe had been lit. Must be the stranger, as Edgerton partook of snuff exclusively.

“But what about the items found missing at the Huxtables?”

His companion snorted. “Huxtable is a sap skull. Most likely he misplaced them, that is all. You are letting your fancy run too free. It will soon be over, never fear. Chin up, and all that.”

Edgerton grumbled something, however, Phineas could not make it out.

“Leave Miss Rochon to me,” the companion said. “I have a perfectly splendid plan on how to exploit that bit of news. My interview with Mr. Podbury proved very enlightening, to be sure.”

Phineas nearly gasped but caught himself in time. Miss Rochon?
Isabelle?
His heart felt as if someone squeezed it, his skin grew clammy. How could she be involved in this? Did they suspect his scheme and therefore seek to control him through her? His muscles bunched, automatically wanting to spring away and seek out and protect her. He had to find her. Fast. Before these two did. He had promised her she would not be in danger when they embarked on this scheme.

Unfortunately, he had to wait through thirty minutes of their insipid chit chat, which descended to ribald accounts of their most recent exploits. While they chatted, he consoled himself that she was safe. When they finally left, he indulged in a huge sigh of relief.

Again, he desired to spring into action. They had a head start. Did they know she was in attendance? Though it took every shred of his self-control, he resolved to wait five minutes to ensure they had indeed departed.

Devil take it, close enough.
Phineas swung open the window, peeked outside, crawled out, and sought purchase on the large granite blocks comprising the house’s structure. He descended several feet, his fingers gripping each granite-block edge. He risked a peek.
Far enough
. He pushed away from the wall and landed, a trifle awkwardly, but all in all, a successful escape. He brushed his hands together.
Now to find Isabelle.

“I see you still prefer exiting from second story windows. At least this time you didn’t meet with the business end of a sharp, metal object.”

Phineas jumped at hearing a voice, but sagged against the wall upon recognizing it.
Isabelle
. The next instant, he snaked an arm out and pulled her against him, tucking her head under his chin, inhaling her unique scent.
She was safe
.

“How did you know I was here?” he managed to say between breaths. Scaling the wall and being surprised in that manner had rendered him breathless.

“I didn’t. Though I was wondering where you were and whether I’d see you emerge from a window. I came out for some fresh air and heard a noise. Proved to be you. Quite an impressive feat, seeing you come down like that. Had a lot of practice?”

He gently eased her away from his body. Her smile warmed him. “Heaps.” He folded her arm under his. “We ought to leave. Now.” He dragged her across the terrace and the side lawn.

“Can’t we go out the front?” Isabelle stumbled beside him.

“No,” not sparing her a glance.

Phineas expected a debate, but thankfully she remained silent and complied with his demand. When he had her safely inside his carriage, then he could allow himself to relax. He squeezed her through a break in the hedge and out the side gate. They walked down the mews with all due haste. At the cross street, he paid a willing lad a bob to fetch his coachman.

Ten minutes later, he had her tucked inside his carriage and on their way to Somerville House.

“What’s happened? You look rattled. Did you find something?”

“I am uncertain as yet. I took a journal from a locked drawer right before Lord Edgerton entered the study.” She gasped. “Worry not, I managed to hide in time. However, I overheard his discussion with a gentleman whose voice I did not recognize. Let us just say, I did not care for the direction the conversation took.”

He studied her. His instincts counseled him not to tell her, but a normal lady she was not. From what he had discerned in the brief time they had had to discuss her own time period, ladies were different, more independent, more in control of their lives. She would wish to know what transpired. Indeed, she would expect it.

He took a deep breath. “Who is Mr. Podbury?”

She frowned. “Mr. Podbury?”

“His name surfaced in their discussion, and it was implied he had a connection with you.”

“Mr. Podbury,” she repeated in a whisper. “He was that funny fellow Ada and I went to see at the Royal Society. He believes in time travel and is researching it. He somehow knew I had traveled back in time, but I made up some stuff to get him off track.”

“I wonder...”

“What? What did you hear?”

“Isabelle, I believe you may be in danger. Indeed, I am certain you are. I do not know what they have planned, but it appears you may be a target. They mentioned your name, and that they had spoken to Mr. Podbury. I do not like it.” He paused, thinking furiously of his options. “I shall stay at Mrs. Somerville’s in a guest chamber until the morrow, at which time I shall hire several Bow Street Runners to protect you, propriety be damned.” It would torture him to sleep so near her when she was unobtainable, but he could not think of his own needs at the moment.

“Is that really necessary? I’m sure I’m not in any danger.”

“I am not so sanguine. Isabelle, these people are ruthless. I have witnessed the devastation they leave behind. They also hold prominent positions in Polite Society and will do whatever it takes to remain there, including disposing of a bothersome female, a foreigner at that. I do not know how you fit into their schemes, however, and that is what concerns me.”

Isabelle took a deep breath. “Okay.”

His hand lifted—to touch her?—but he let it drop. She could not be his. He cleared his throat. “We must be vigilant.”

May 22

Katy!

Lord Montagu believes me! We had a
long
talk last night, and I was finally able to convince him. Uh...by the way, I slept with him, and it was pretty hot!

...File this under weird: I found out that my house in Guildford actually belongs to Lord Montagu! We searched under the floorboards in the study on the slim chance my case was already hidden there, since his mother’s name is Elizabeth, but no such luck...

“Miss Rochon, may I speak to you in private?”

Isabelle shoved the letter she’d been writing to Katy under the blotter on her escritoire and faced Mrs. Somerville.

Mrs. Somerville’s lips were set in a grim line.
What in the world?

“Of course. Please, come in.”

The older woman stepped into Isabelle’s bedroom and paced for a minute. “I will be frank with you, Miss Rochon. I received a letter from Lady Byron in this morning’s post that has put me in a rather uncomfortable position.”

This couldn’t be good. “Uh, Lady Byron? Has she returned from Bath?”

“Yes. According to her, she has been beset by letters from her friends anxious for Ada’s welfare. In short, she has requested I terminate our association and turn you out. She also demands Ada’s immediate return to Fordhook. She is concerned about your influence on her daughter.”

Isabelle’s stomach disappeared. What was she going to do? Maybe she could salvage the situation—she’d gotten along well with Mrs. Somerville up until now.

“I have to say,” Mrs. Somerville continued, “I am somewhat concerned myself. Lord Montagu insisting on staying here last night, your two day’s absence, and now the place crawling with Bow Street Runners—”

“But they are for my protection. That was also why Lord Montagu stayed last night. He explained it to you.”