Too Dangerous For a Lady by Jo Beverley Page A

a letter. She hadn’t posted the letter at the Lamb, so she had taken it with her.
    Solange returned to her parlor smiling. She would soon have her papers back.
    She found Isaac and the Boothroyd exactly as she’d left them, like a tableau.
    â€œNever moves,” Boothroyd said. “Hardly ever blinks.”
    â€œNever mind that. You are to hire a horse and follow a coach going toward Chester, which will turn off toward a place called Picton to go on side roads to a place called Tranmere. The name of the party is Selby.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause the man you chased was Granger and he passed the papers to the lady you encountered in the innyard. She is part of the Selby party. You will follow and retrieve them.”
    He didn’t like being so thoroughly in the wrong. “I should stay with you and him, ma’am. I’m to guard you both.”
    â€œThe letter presents more danger than anything else. Follow the Selby party and get it back.”
    â€œHow? I’m no high toby.”
    It was a fair point, and attempting to hold up a coach full of people in broad daylight would be a challenge to even a clever highwayman. “I gather the side road will be slow and little used. Keep them in sight until they turn off, then watch for them to stop for rest or new horses. The woman in the straw bonnet will leave the coach. You seize her.”
    â€œWith her family looking on?”
    â€œIf you do it quickly, they won’t have time to react. You need only carry her far enough to search her. Search her thoroughly. Cut off her clothes if necessary.” His small eyes sparked at that. “When you’ve retrieved the letter, break her neck or she’ll describe you to the magistrates.”
    He chewed it over. She watched for any recognition that the family might provide a description of him. It would beinconvenient to lose him, but that was a risk she was willing to take. As it was, he should have time to get clear away.
    He came up with a different, and surprisingly pertinent, objection. “She’s seen me. I won’t get close to her without a screech.”
    Solange found a brown muffler she’d knitted for Isaac. “The day is chilly—you have a toothache. Wrap that around the lower part of your face.”
    He took the scarf. “What do I do with the letter?”
    â€œBurn it. Down to ash. Then you return the horse here and take the next coach to London to join us.”
    She gave him some money. He put it in a pocket, directed a scowl at Isaac, and left. She could only pray that he be up to the task.
    Too late she realized that if he was arrested for murder, he might talk. Did the British government use torture? If not, they were weak fools. If he talked, he’d name her and tell what he knew of the Crimson Band. He knew little of importance, but the possible risk made the next step clear. Enough of Waite’s caution. The time to act was now.
    She packed and then gently stirred Isaac out of his trance. Soon they were downstairs waiting for the coach that would take them to Worcester. The next day they’d go on to London, where the angry poor and the tumultuous mob needed only a spark to explode into revolution. With or without the Spencean Crusade, she’d give them a spark.
    More than a spark.
    A conflagration.

Chapter 10
    â€œT hank you for this,” Mark said, spooning up the last of the mock turtle soup. “It’s surprisingly good food.”
    â€œFor a small and simple place? Mrs. Upshaw worked for my family before she married.”
    â€œYou come from this area?”
    â€œNot exactly. I’ve been visiting my grandmother and aunt near Lancaster. Delightfully eccentric, both of them.”
    Mark just managed not to express surprise. Braydon was one of those self-contained men whom it was hard to imagine in the bosom of any family.
    â€œWhere do your mother’s family live?” Braydon asked.
    â€œThey