all?”
She thought about the message from Reeves, and about the visit from Bridgewater’s father, and about Thomas, the boy who’d been captured and questioned, but she had no idea how much of that she should share. She hoped Bridgewater’s note would indicate that.
“He sent me with a message for you.” She pulled the note from her pocket and slid it across the table.
Much to Panna’s surprise, Clare ignored the letter and reached for her ponytail, pulling the ribboned bow free. Drawing the fabric taut, he examined its length as if he were reading a ticker tape.
“Oh, Christ.” He leapt up.
“What is it?” Panna frowned.
He held the ribbon before Aphrodite. She paled and handed it to Athena. “I’ll take the horse.”
“As fast as you can, lass.”
Aphrodite threw on a coat and grabbed a pistol from the wall. A moment later she’d flown out the door, and the thunder of the horse’s hooves filled the night.
For a second or two, Panna was shocked, but her surprise soon evaporated with the cold realization that she had served as an unwitting mule for Bridgewater. When had he written the words? She thought of the pencils hanging from ribbons on the map in the hidden room. It must have been then, while she’d bided her time imagining the possibilities of the surveying seat. Heat blossomed on her cheeks at the thought of the kiss they’d shared. She combed her memory for the sequence of events. The kiss had definitely come before Bridgewater tied the ribbon. Had the kiss only been a pretext to get her hair down so he could retie it?
The buzz of shame in Panna’s ears was so loud now, she feared that everyone in the room could hear it.
“What about the note?” she said at last.
Clare’s gaze fell to his boots. He had watched the realization of her betrayal crawl across her face. He picked up the note, broke the seal, and unfolded the paper.
“I apologize, Miss Kennedy. Though he was only arrested this morning, Bridgewater has been under watch for a long time, and the whore’s ribbon is a trick we have used a number of times to great success.”
“I am not a whore. I am a friend of Bridgewater’s—a library keeper from Penn’s Woods.”
“Oh.” Clare processed the implications of that statement and his eyes softened. “Then I can see where it would be doubly hard for you.”
Yes, being seduced by a lord so that she might serve as a living, breathing envelope for his war correspondence was not easy.
“The note,” she repeated sharply. “What exactly does it say?”
He sighed and pushed the paper toward her.
Nothing.
The paper was completely blank. Bridgewater hadn’t trusted her. He’d needed to get the message to Clare, but he had been careful not to put his faith in the crazy interloper who’d appeared out of nowhere, even after she’d made her feelings for him as clear as glass.
“In that case, I suspect you have a pretty good idea where Lord Bridgewater is,” she said with irritation.
Clare’s brow went up. “ Lord Bridgewater?”
“Yes. Or Lord Adderly, or whatever this prodigal son is called.”
He nodded. “I do know his whereabouts.”
“I want you to take me to him.”
Clare, not a man to be forced into anything, looked at her, unmoved.
She stood. “Look, I made it here on my own. I can certainly make it back without your help.”
He caught her arm. “I cannot recommend it.”
The thought that she’d been tricked not just into becoming a mule but into placing herself willingly in the arms of a man who intended to hold her against her will made her both scared and angry.
“Does Bridgewater own this place?” she demanded, shaking her arm loose.
“What if he does?” Clare said. “I earn my place here.”
“And I suppose he calls upon you here from time to time?”
Clare’s brows knitted. “Aye, he does.”
“Of course he does. And Aphrodite, Athena, and Artemis are the women who have been carting his messages back and forth?”
“They
She thought about the message from Reeves, and about the visit from Bridgewater’s father, and about Thomas, the boy who’d been captured and questioned, but she had no idea how much of that she should share. She hoped Bridgewater’s note would indicate that.
“He sent me with a message for you.” She pulled the note from her pocket and slid it across the table.
Much to Panna’s surprise, Clare ignored the letter and reached for her ponytail, pulling the ribboned bow free. Drawing the fabric taut, he examined its length as if he were reading a ticker tape.
“Oh, Christ.” He leapt up.
“What is it?” Panna frowned.
He held the ribbon before Aphrodite. She paled and handed it to Athena. “I’ll take the horse.”
“As fast as you can, lass.”
Aphrodite threw on a coat and grabbed a pistol from the wall. A moment later she’d flown out the door, and the thunder of the horse’s hooves filled the night.
For a second or two, Panna was shocked, but her surprise soon evaporated with the cold realization that she had served as an unwitting mule for Bridgewater. When had he written the words? She thought of the pencils hanging from ribbons on the map in the hidden room. It must have been then, while she’d bided her time imagining the possibilities of the surveying seat. Heat blossomed on her cheeks at the thought of the kiss they’d shared. She combed her memory for the sequence of events. The kiss had definitely come before Bridgewater tied the ribbon. Had the kiss only been a pretext to get her hair down so he could retie it?
The buzz of shame in Panna’s ears was so loud now, she feared that everyone in the room could hear it.
“What about the note?” she said at last.
Clare’s gaze fell to his boots. He had watched the realization of her betrayal crawl across her face. He picked up the note, broke the seal, and unfolded the paper.
“I apologize, Miss Kennedy. Though he was only arrested this morning, Bridgewater has been under watch for a long time, and the whore’s ribbon is a trick we have used a number of times to great success.”
“I am not a whore. I am a friend of Bridgewater’s—a library keeper from Penn’s Woods.”
“Oh.” Clare processed the implications of that statement and his eyes softened. “Then I can see where it would be doubly hard for you.”
Yes, being seduced by a lord so that she might serve as a living, breathing envelope for his war correspondence was not easy.
“The note,” she repeated sharply. “What exactly does it say?”
He sighed and pushed the paper toward her.
Nothing.
The paper was completely blank. Bridgewater hadn’t trusted her. He’d needed to get the message to Clare, but he had been careful not to put his faith in the crazy interloper who’d appeared out of nowhere, even after she’d made her feelings for him as clear as glass.
“In that case, I suspect you have a pretty good idea where Lord Bridgewater is,” she said with irritation.
Clare’s brow went up. “ Lord Bridgewater?”
“Yes. Or Lord Adderly, or whatever this prodigal son is called.”
He nodded. “I do know his whereabouts.”
“I want you to take me to him.”
Clare, not a man to be forced into anything, looked at her, unmoved.
She stood. “Look, I made it here on my own. I can certainly make it back without your help.”
He caught her arm. “I cannot recommend it.”
The thought that she’d been tricked not just into becoming a mule but into placing herself willingly in the arms of a man who intended to hold her against her will made her both scared and angry.
“Does Bridgewater own this place?” she demanded, shaking her arm loose.
“What if he does?” Clare said. “I earn my place here.”
“And I suppose he calls upon you here from time to time?”
Clare’s brows knitted. “Aye, he does.”
“Of course he does. And Aphrodite, Athena, and Artemis are the women who have been carting his messages back and forth?”
“They
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