His Lady Midnight (4 page)

“How would that rectify anything?”

“I'm not sure.” He laughed. “That is honesty, you must own.”

“If it would make you feel better about your f
aux pas
, I will do as you ask.”

“Are you always so dashed decorous, Phoebe?”

“No.”

She could not help smiling when he stared at her as if he could not help himself. Mayhap he had not expected her to be that honest, because he clearly had not believed a word she had spoken until now. She was not certain how to show him that she had been square with him without telling him all that had happened tonight and why.

The hatch opened on the top of the carriage. When she looked up, amazed, the coachee called down, “My lord, we are being followed.”

“By whom?” Galen asked.

“I don't recognize the carriage,” the coachman replied, “but they are motioning for us to pull over to the side of the road.”

“Don't!” Phoebe gasped.

When the viscount's gaze caught hers, she wished she had remained silent. Yet how could she? He leaned toward her, his cape that was as raven as his hair brushing her cloak. With another gasp, she undid the ribbon at her throat and pulled off her own cloak. If she had been followed, she must not let this muddy garment betray her. She balled it up and looked around her. Where could she hide it?

“Allow me,” Galen said, holding out his hands.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder and out the window at the back of the carriage as she pressed the cloak into his hands. The other vehicle was closing the distance between them.

When his fingers enfolded hers along with the cloak, she looked at him. The light from the lantern might be faint now that her eyes were accustomed to its soft glow, but his eyes burned like two dark fires. That heat surged from his skin through her as he said, “I have no idea what kind of trouble you have gotten yourself into, Phoebe, but, in spite of what you may have heard of me, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman protects any lady in his company.”

“Thank you.” How many times had she said those words? Many times, but she could not recall a single time when she had meant them more sincerely than she did now.

He opened a drawer under the opposite seat, stuffed the cloak into it, and, as he closed it again, called, “Alfred, pull over and let's see who wants to speak to us so desperately.” He peered out of the back of the carriage. “I see two sailors and a man dressed like a gentleman.”

“Sailors?”

“Does that mean something to you?”

“There were three sailors on the wharf when I was there, but—” She was saying too much already. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she rose to her knees to see what he could. He seized her shoulders and pushed her back against the seat.

“Galen!” she cried. “What do you think you are—?”

“Be quiet!” He pressed his hand over her mouth. “Don't say a word.”

She peeled his fingers from her lips. “What do—?”

“If you value saving your reputation and anything else you fear for tonight, keep out of sight.” He blew out the lantern overhead and motioned for her to remain in the shadows.

She nodded. Mayhap it was some other sailor. There were hundreds in London at any time. Mayhap this was just coincidence. She wished she could believe that.

She peeked out of the back window. There was the filthy sailor Jasper had been speaking with on the wharf! What was he doing here with a man dressed in the finest fashion?

“Do you recognize them?” Galen murmured.

“Yes, one of them.”

“Who is he?”

“I can't explain.”

“Phoebe—”

When she saw the men walk toward Galen's carriage, she grabbed the lapels of his coat. In the thin light from a streetlamp behind the carriage, she saw his eyes widen in shock before she hid her face against his shoulder. “Pull your cloak around me,” she whispered.

He chuckled as he obeyed, his arms enfolding her against him. “As you wish, my lady.”

“Draw your cape around both of us,” she ordered, wishing almost anyone else had been in this carriage when she climbed into it. She was trembling even more, but it was not only the fear of the sailor now. How could she be so want-witted? When she had last met Galen, his courteous touch had sent delight swirling through her. To be in his arms now … She tried to concentrate on what she needed to do so her work could continue uninterrupted.

“Why?”

“I don't want them to recognize me.”

He was abruptly somber. “Why?”

“I could be in a great deal of trouble.” This was not the time to dissemble.

“When did they last see you?”

“Just before I reached your carriage.”

“So that's why you wanted to get rid of your black cloak?”

“Yes, I had it on before so they could not see me in the darkness along the docks.”

“You wore it the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“The hood, too?”

“As soon as I realized they had seen me.” She glanced back at the carriage behind them, but gasped when her bonnet was plucked from her head. “What are you doing?”

He did not answer as he shoved the bonnet in the drawer with the cloak. She heard the straw crack when he pushed the drawer closed again. Before she could react, he sifted his hands through her hair, loosening it to fall around her shoulders.

“Are you mad?” she asked. “I shall look like a harlot.”

“Mayhap I am mad, because I'm trying to help you when I have no idea what sort of bumble-broth you have mixed me up in.” Drawing her hair forward over her shoulders, he shook his head. “I hope they did not catch sight of your hair, because it will distinguish you immediately. I've never seen such glorious gold before.”

“I—”

“Say nothing.” He drew her head back down to his shoulder. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, “But you need to put your arms around me if you want this to look truly authentic.”

“Galen, I believe you are taking advantage of this.”

“You may be right.” His smile appeared and was gone before she was quite sure she had seen it. “However, you do need my help. So put your arms around me.”

Slowly, she lifted her arms to his broad shoulders. The aromas of clean wool and some musky cologne filled every breath. “I want you to know now, in case something goes awry, how I appreciate you helping me.”

“Hush,” he murmured.

“I want to—” She stared up into his eyes, which were so close to hers. Not even a shadow could have slipped between them. His fingers splayed across her back, keeping her close so she would not look back at the door. He need not have worried, because she doubted she could have looked anywhere but up into his volatile eyes.

“So would I like a few things myself right now, but unfortunately …” He turned her face back against his shoulder as he raised his voice. “Good evening, sir. You sailors are quite far from the river. Did you misplace your ship?”

She tensed as the carriage shifted, and she knew someone had put a foot on the step. She wondered if the man was going to open the door and demand that they get out. When Galen's hand patted her back gently, she released the breath she had been holding. She had to trust him now as she had trusted only Sam and Jasper for so long. She hoped he was as worthy of her trust.

“I'm looking for a woman and a man,” came an answer in a voice that belonged to the Polite World.

Phoebe breathed a whisper of gratitude. Jasper must be safe!

“You've found one of each.” Galen's voice sounded slurred, as if he had been drinking heavily. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Should call 'im cap'n.” At the voice, Phoebe stiffened. She knew it instantly. This
was
the sailor who had been bargaining with Jasper. “'E's—”

“Cut line,” ordered the other man, obviously not wanting to divulge his name. “I'm looking for two people, my lord. One, a man who may have been shot. The woman may have been as well.”

Phoebe bit back her gasp when Galen's fingers settled on her leg. Then she realized he was drawing his cape surreptitiously over her gown to hide the bloodstain. What a miracle that she had found such an unexpected ally!

“Haven't seen anything.” He gave a hiccup and chortled. “Been too busy with my special friend here.”

“Miss?” called the man. “May I ask you what you have seen?”

She turned only far enough to get a glimpse of the man's shadowed features before Galen turned her face back toward him.

“You may not ask her anything.” He hiccuped again. “Could cause all kinds of trouble if
he
found out she was with me. Last chap ended up in a duel at Hyde Park. Don't want
him
to pop the fly at me. You understand, don't you?”

The man cleared his throat, embarrassed.

Phoebe's dismay deepened. The man must be of a higher class than the sailor who demanded that he ask her to answer. If a gentleman was involved in trying to halt her, her work must have garnered more attention than she had guessed.

“She's been with you all evening?” the man asked.

“I think so.” He gave another drunken laugh. For a long moment, she heard no other sound, then he added in a whisper, his voice once again completely sober, “Don't move yet. They are leaving, but I don't trust them.”

“Neither do I.”

“Why don't you take the time while we're waiting for them to be on their way to explain what is going on?”

“Galen, I …” She closed her eyes and nodded. He had saved her from the ire of the unjust justice of the courts. She owed him the duty of the truth. “I will tell you if you will take me home posthaste to Grosvenor Square.”

He nodded. “If you think that is wise.”

“I think it is what I must do.”

He gave the order to his coachman, then sat back, folding his arms over his chest. “Tell me why you were fleeing these men, Phoebe.”

It did not take long for her to explain how, when she had learned that Jasper's younger brother was about to be sent to Australia, she had devised this scheme to bribe underpaid sailors to release some of the prisoners to her. By the time she was explaining how easily she found work for the prisoners in Exmoor and how they must stay there for the length of their sentence before they could return home, the carriage was turning into the street leading to Grosvenor Square.

“You are mad, you know,” Galen said when she finished telling how everything had gone off course tonight.

“Mayhap, but it is something I feel I must do.”

As the carriage started to slow, Galen glanced out the window. With a curse, he threw the hatch open again. “Alfred, keep driving.”

“Where to, my lord?”

“Take the Bath road.”

“My lord?”

“You heard me.”

“Aye, my lord.” He shut the hatch.

“The Bath road?” Phoebe repeated, sure she had misheard him. “But my home is right over—”

Galen pulled her away from the window. “Let me guess. It's the one where our friend's carriage is slowing in front of even now.”

“Our friend?” Her eyes widened as she saw the coach that held the man and the two sailors. “I must warn my household.”

“How can you do that without betraying yourself?”

“I don't know, but I must—”

“Not panic.”

His words, which she had repeated to herself so often in the past five years, released her from the serrated claws of her own fear. Nodding, she sighed. Panic was more dangerous tonight than ever.

“You will have to depend on them to take care of themselves,” he murmured as they drove past at a pace that should not draw the men's attention. “I suspect you have trained them for this very emergency.”

She nodded, unable to speak as they turned onto a street leading away from the square.

Galen faced her. “If I knew you would be safe, I would take you to my house on Berkeley Square, but I doubt if you'll be safe in London anywhere tonight.”

His words sent another chill through her, but she ignored it. Now was not the time to worry about the past. She must think about the future and how she could keep her work from being halted. “If we aren't going to your house, then where are we going?”

“To a friend's home near Bath. It's called Thistlewood Cottage, and I hope it is isolated enough so that we may hide there.”

“We?” Horror sank to the very depths of her heart. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“No? I was not honest with them when I let them think you were a lady who was having a secret
affaire de coeur
with me.”

She reached out to put her hand on his arm, then drew back her fingers. The motion, which would have been so commonplace with anyone else, seemed far too intimate with this man whose very glance unsettled her. “I am so sorry, Galen.”

“It is too late for apologies, and you need not apologize. As I told you, it was my decision to help you.” When he grinned, she was shocked more than she had been at anything tonight. “This should be fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yes. Although the Season is just underway, it seems to be picking up exactly where the last Little Season ended. Mayhap I have come to London for too many Seasons, because all I can see ahead of me here is ennui and playing chaperon for my brother. Helping you should be much more fun.”

She stared at him. This was not a game. This was life and death, the lives of those she helped and her death if she were caught. He had to understand that.

“Galen, if you were to be connected with me, you could be ruined or sent to hang with me.”

He waved her words aside. “Your warning may be too late, Phoebe. It should not take long for them to connect the lady in my carriage with you. All they need do is look at a portrait of you in your house, and they will know that the beautiful woman in my arms was you. Blast! I should have hidden your hair. I don't want us to be stopped before we can leave London.”