She looked at Alex. He still had one arm in a sling and by his own admission he was unable to walk more than a few steps. He could not help her. There was only one solution. Having made up her mind, she looked up, saying brightly, ‘I had best take this paper to my lawyer and have him deal with it immediately.’
‘And what of the other business—the journal?’
‘You must not worry about that, Alex.’
‘I always worry when I see that look on your face.’
She gazed at him, her eyes very wide.
‘What look?’
‘That innocent, butter-would-not-melt look. I insist that you tell me what you are planning, madam. No, don’t walk out on me—Elle—Eloise!’
But she was already at the door and as she closed it behind her she heard his angry exclamation and the clatter as his breakfast tray slid to the floor.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack was putting the finishing touches to his neckcloth when he heard voices on the stairs outside his rooms. He nodded to Robert.
‘Go out and send them away. Tell them I’ve already left town!’
He shrugged himself into his waistcoat, scowling as he heard the low rumble of voices growing louder. Damn Robert, could he not even obey a simple order?
‘Sir, ’tis Mister Mortimer, and he says he knows you are here and he must speak with you.’
Jack’s frown turned to a look of exasperation as he watched Alex limping into the room.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’ he demanded. ‘You are as pale as your shirt!’
He quickly lifted the half-filled portmanteau from the chair. ‘You had best sit down.’
Alex was leaning heavily on his stick and with a grimace he lowered himself on to the chair.
‘Yes, well, I wasn’t planning on coming this far today!’
‘You walked here? Damned fool.’
‘No, of course I didn’t walk! I took a cab, but just those stairs to get up here have taken their toll.’
Jack waved his hand impatiently.
‘And what has brought you here? I don’t suppose you came to see me off.’
‘It’s Elle,’ said Alex without preamble. ‘I can’t help her, so I need you to do so.’
Jack looked towards Robert, dismissing him with the slightest movement of his head. ‘Does Lady Allyngham know you are here?’
Alex shook his head.
‘She came to see me this morning, and I did as you asked. I told her you had already gone.’
‘Thank you. Now I suggest you go home and let me get on with my packing.’
‘But this is important, Jack!’
‘Not to me! I am done with her. She does not want my help; she has made that very plain on more than one occasion.’
‘This is not about what Elle wants. I am afraid she is going to do something foolhardy.’
Jack gave a bitter laugh.
‘There would be nothing new in that! No, she has chosen her path. God knows I tried to befriend her. I even thought—but she is done with me. She is going to marry Deforge. I won’t try to stop her.’
‘But the fellow’s a rogue!’
Jack shrugged. ‘I have told her what I think of the man,’ he said coldly. ‘If she chooses to ignore it then I can do nothing to help her. I only hope she fares better than his first wife.’
Alex waved his good hand.
‘I am not talking about her marriage,’ he said impatiently. ‘I think she has conceived some madcap scheme to recover the journal!’
Jack looked at the pale face staring up at him and bit back a stinging retort.
‘Alex, tell me why I should put myself out any more for this woman? She is not at all grateful for anything I have done so far and at our last meeting she made it very clear that she wanted nothing more to do with me.’
‘I thought you loved her.’
Jack looked away. He picked up his brushes from the dressing table and threw them into the portmanteau.
He said coldly, ‘It is impossible for me to love someone who is not honest with me.’ He turned, subjecting Alex to a fierce glare. ‘From the very beginning she has refused to share her secrets with me. I wanted to help her—hell and damnation, I wanted to marry her, regardless of the crimes she may have committed in the past, but I am convinced now that there is no future for us. She is determined not to confide in me. She does not trust me.’ He snapped shut the portmanteau. ‘All she will say is that the secrets are not hers to share.’
‘She is correct,’ said Alex slowly. ‘But they are mine. And I will share them with you.’
There is an hour when the fashionable London streets to the west of the City are silent and deserted, between the night-soil cart rumbling through to collect the pails and the moment when the cook’s boy emerges, yawning, and waits to follow his master to the market.
Eloise stood in the shadows, looking across the street at Sir Ronald’s imposing town house. The windows were dark and the only light from the house was the dim glow of a lamp shining through the fanlight. With her heart thudding heavily against her ribs, she slipped across the road and into the deep shadows of a side alley. She ran freely and realised with some little shock that it was more than ten years since she had last worn breeches. She had bought them that afternoon at one of the less fashionable bazaars off Bond Street. Her maid had been surprised at her purchases but she had explained that she was buying a set of clothes as a present for a young relative. Even as she counted along the windows to find the right house, part of her mind was thinking of what she might do with the clothes when this night’s work was over. If she was successful.
The third set of windows from the alley belonged to Sir Ronald’s house. Everything was in darkness. She had been watching the house for some time, and thought that by now everyone would be asleep, even Sir Ronald’s valet, who would be dozing in his chair by the front door. She only hoped that his master would not come back early: it was well known that Josiah Forbes preferred dancing and theatricals to cards, but he and his wife were exceedingly rich and influential, so those receiving an invitation to one of their select little parties deemed it expedient to make the long drive out to Edgeware. For once she was thankful that her reputation as the Wanton Widow had so far spared her that treat.
She crept along the dark, narrow alley, trying not to think of the dirt and debris beneath her shoes. The brick wall was a good six feet high, but she had climbed higher. Not for a long time, of course: not since she was a girl, making up wild adventures at Allyngham with Tony and Alex. How long ago that seemed now!
‘Can I help you over the wall, my lady?’
Eloise smothered a scream as she spun around to peer at the black shape towering over her. It was far too dark to see, but there was no mistaking the deep, mellow voice, and even as her heart settled back into a steady beat she felt her fear subsiding.
‘Jack! What are you doing here?’ she hissed.
‘I have come to help you.’
Her spirits lifted. She said gruffly, ‘I thought you had left town.’
‘No. Alex was worried about you and since he is not fit enough to help you, it seems I must.’
The elation she had felt a moment ago was somewhat dimmed. Could it be that Jack was doing this for Alex’s sake? From his angry tone it seemed likely. She reached out in the darkness and gripped at his coat with her fingers.
‘You must go away, Jack, now,’ she urged him. ‘It is far too dangerous for you. If I am caught, then Sir Ronald may be angry, but he will still want to marry me to gain control of my fortune. I may even be able to placate him, if I am alone…’
He silenced her by pressing his fingers to her lips.
‘Let us be quite clear about one thing, madam, you are not marrying Deforge, whether we succeed tonight or we fail. Now no more talking or the sun will be rising before we get out of here!’
His tone brooked no argument. Eloise allowed herself to be lifted up on to the wall and she nimbly swung her legs over and dropped to the ground on the other side. Jack followed a moment later. Fitful moonlight illuminated the yard in shades of blue and black, and she concentrated on finding the best route up to the study window. She scrambled on to a water barrel and from there climbed on to the roof of the outhouse. Her soft shoes made no noise on the tiles: she gave a fleeting smile, remembering Alice’s comments that a pair of solid leather boots would be more fitting for a schoolboy than dancing slippers. That, of course, was before she had shocked her maid into silence by explaining the real reason for her purchases.
The moon slipped behind a thick cloud, plunging her into momentary darkness and she stopped, unable to see her way. She felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder, steadying her. As the darkness eased she moved forwards until she was standing directly beneath the study window. When she had been inside the room with Sir Ronald she had noted that the window had a new sash frame, secured only by a brass fastener. She took out her penknife and reached up, planning to slide it between the two frames and push back the fastener. Behind her she heard a faint snort and Jack leaned close to breathe his words into her ear.
‘You need to grow another six inches to reach the catch, my dear. Allow me.’
In an instant the deed was done and Jack was carefully pushing open the window. Another moment and they were both standing in Sir Ronald’s study. The moon shone directly in through the window, bathing the room in a silvery light and making it unnecessary for Eloise to use the tinderbox and candle she had thoughtfully tucked into her pocket. She moved swiftly to the desk, penknife in hand, but once again Jack forestalled her.