"You have to go before I decide I can't wait."
I kissed my fingers then touched them to his cheek. "I'll leave you to your work."
He grunted and saw me to the door. He shut it between us, but not before I saw him drag his hand through his hair again.
We visited Lady Gillingham late in the afternoon. Lincoln had insisted on coming with me in case Lord Gillingham put up an argument. He sat beside me in the gently rocking coach, our shoulders bumping. He set a satchel on the other seat.
"We can't force our way in to see her," I said. "It's his house, and she must do as he says. If he forbids us to speak to her then we have to abide by his rules." I shook my head. "Men like him are beasts. I wish the law didn't state that women had to obey their husbands when they're being turds."
When Lincoln didn't respond, I glanced at him, only to see him watching me intently. "I would never forbid you to do or say anything, or to see anyone."
"I know." I took his hand in mine and squeezed.
"Then … ?" He shook his head and looked out the window.
"Why haven't I picked up the ring?"
"You're not ready," he said. "I understand."
Did he truly? Sometimes, I wasn't sure why I hadn't put the ring on either. I loved him and I knew he loved me. I wanted to marry him. But I didn't want to rush. No matter how much he said that nothing would change between us, I knew it would. Legally, I became his property. I'd been free and independent for so long, the step into marriage seemed enormous.
Yet he'd already given me a cottage, in my name, and had it written into legal documents that no husband could take it from me. Were those legal documents binding? I felt stupid for not knowing. The property contract might as well have been written in Latin, it was so complicated, and I'd never even been into a bank, let alone had an account in one. A woman had to utterly trust that her future husband had her best interests at heart before she put his ring on her finger.
"It's growing dark," he said.
"Yes. So?"
"If Gillingham forbids us to see his wife, we'll wait until it's completely dark and climb in through her window."
I stared at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"It's how I got in last time."
"You expect me to go too?"
"You're capable. I've seen you scale walls and climb trees no matter how you were dressed."
"Yes, but I'd wager her rooms are not on the first floor, and probably not even the second, and a house is not a tree."
"There are foot holds on the window frames and plumbing pipes. Your legs should reach them. I brought rope to tie you to me, just in case. If you slip, you won't fall far. But I don't think you'll slip."
"You are serious." I laughed, despite my apprehension. "But my dress will get in the way."
He handed me the satchel. "Your boys clothes are in there."
I pulled out the trousers and shirt. "You're mad."
He suddenly grinned. It made my stomach do a little somersault in delight. "I know you like to climb," he said.
The prospect of climbing again did thrill me. I enjoyed being outdoors, up high, where no one bothered to look and the view took your breath away. "This is a strange way to bring us closer together," I said. "Most men go courting with flowers and tickets to the theater. You bring rope and trousers."
"I'm not like most men."
We asked the butler if Lady Gillingham was at home, and were met with guilty silence then a stumbling, "Er, well, she's indisposed at the moment. That is to say, she's out. Taking in the air, sir."
"She's gone for a walk?" I inquired, all innocence.
"Yes. Hyde Park."
"Excellent. Perhaps we can join her."
His eyes widened. "No!"
"Why not?"
"I just remembered, she's not at Hyde Park." The butler chewed the inside of his bottom lip until I urged him to go on with a nod. "Her ladyship is … somewhere else. She didn't tell me where she was going."
"Is Lord Gillingham at home?" Lincoln asked.
Why did he want to speak to that horrid man? I thought we wanted to avoid him.
"His lordship is in his study, sir," the butler said, relief flooding his face. "Would you like me to announce you?"
"No." Lincoln turned away and waited for me to go before him down the steps.
"Why did you ask after Gillingham?" I said as he opened the coach door. "Did you simply want to know if he was there?"
He nodded. "Gus, drive somewhere until it's dark then bring us back, but not here. A street or two away will be sufficient. Charlie and I can walk from there."
"A half hour ought to do it," Gus said with a glance at the sky.
"I'll turn my back while you change," Lincoln said as we drove off.
"You expect to be climbing to her room after all?" I asked.
"I do. The butler was lying. She's at home."
"I know. But what if she goes out for the evening?"
"Then we'll wait for her return in her room."
"But a maid might see us in the meantime."
"If you don't wish to go, I can do it alone."
"And sit with Gus in the cold carriage and wait for you? No thanks. I'm coming."
He gave me a satisfied smirk. He'd known all along that I wouldn't allow him to go without me.
He turned his back and I changed into the boys' trousers and shirt. In the confines of a moving carriage, it wasn't the smoothest change I'd done, or the quickest, but I managed.
"You can look now," I said, doing up the top button of my shirt. "Help me on with the jacket."
I lifted my hair and he slipped the jacket around my shoulders. His fingers skimmed my bare skin. The touch was fleeting and impersonal, thanks in part to his gloves. I sighed inwardly, wishing for more.
I slid across the seat until my back rested against his chest. I grasped his arm and positioned it around my waist. He tensed and his fingers hovered above my hip, not touching.
After a moment, I felt his body relax, as if he'd given up the fight to remain unaffected by our closeness. He kissed the top of my head.
"Will you leave your hair up?" he asked.
"Down, I think. I could tuck it into my clothing." I reached up and began plucking out pins. "The darkness will hide its length, and hopefully my feminine curves."
The vibrations from his chuckle rippled through me. "Sometimes I wonder how you fooled me back then. I had no inkling. I must have been blind."
"I was as thin as a rake with no feminine curves to speak of. You weren't blind, you simply didn't expect a girl so you didn't see one."
"Julia suspected."
I knew she'd been the one to first put it to him that I might not be a boy. I'd hated her for it then. Sometimes, I still hated her but for different reasons. But that hatred was no longer as strong as it had been. Perhaps because she held no hold over Lincoln, or perhaps because I felt a little sorry for her nowadays.
"Whatever her faults," I said, "she is very astute when it comes to understanding people."
"Not all people. She has underestimated someone badly." He meant the person who'd gone to the newspapers with the story of Lady H's past as a dancer.
I collected the hairpins and tipped them into my reticule. Lincoln removed his gloves and set them on the seat beside me.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He responded by raking his fingers gently through my hair. "It's so long now," he murmured, fascination edging his tone. "Much longer than mine."
"You had a trim only last week."
"I might cut it off altogether."
"No!"
I felt his grin against the top of my head. "You need time to get used to the idea."
"A lot of time. I like it the way it is."
He massaged my scalp. I closed my eyes and sighed. We sat like that for a long time, not speaking. I didn't feel the need to fill the silence, and it seemed he didn't either. When the coach jerked forward, I opened my eyes.
"We're moving," I said, reluctantly breaking contact.
His eyes, half hidden beneath hooded lids, followed me as I slid along the seat away from him. "Are you ready?"
"Of course. I'm looking forward to it."
We stopped again in a street I didn't recognize but had townhouses similar to those in Mayfair and Belgravia. Lincoln alighted first and did not lower the step or assist me down. I jumped.
"Come on then." I skipped off, beckoning for him to follow.
He caught up to me, the satchel slung over his shoulder. "You need some practice first," he said.
"You want me to scale one of these walls as practice?" I asked, waving at the nearest house.
"Not quite." He led me down a lane and then into a yard surrounded by stables. "Climb that far wall."
I looked at the wall. It was well above my height but the three crates stacked nearby told me we weren't the first to climb over it. It was dark now and we were alone in the courtyard, except for a horse snuffling in one of the nearby stalls. I arranged the crates and scrambled up. I could just reach the top of the wall with my fingertips if I stood on my toes. Using my shoes for grip against the brickwork, I hauled myself up.