Chapter Twenty-Four
Hawk reached out and tugged the mop cap Lizzie wore so it covered more of her hair. “There, now you look like a scullery maid.”
Lizzie grinned. “Ah, a step down from my last employment.”
Although she had agreed with Hawk’s plan, now that the time had come to put it into action, she was frightened. She was in the middle of London, the Home Office was looking for her, and someone who probably worked for the Home Office wanted her dead.
Dressing up as servants was a good idea, and certainly a clever way to get them from Hawk’s townhouse to Lord Campbell’s without being seen. She pushed from her mind the plan to break into her father’s townhouse to look for damaging evidence that the Home Office had not found. What if they uncovered nothing, which was a possibility, since she had no idea what they hoped to find or even where to look? They would still want to talk to her, and Hawk could only resist his orders for so long.
She shuddered, wishing the entire thing settled. Then what? Would Society welcome her as Lady Hawkins? Or would young ladies and their mamas eschew her out of jealousy—having captured such a coveted bachelor? She might even be given the cut direct.
’Twas better to concentrate on one thing at a time.
Hawk pulled up his jacket collar. “Remember to keep your head down. Walk fast to the hackney, as if you are late to arrive back to your employment and are concerned about trouble with the housekeeper.”
Startled, she looked up at him. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“Of course. But I will leave in about five minutes and walk to Cam’s house. One servant scurrying along at night, while not common, is not noteworthy. Two servants together would garner too much notice from anyone riding by.”
“But I don’t even know Lord Campbell.”
“Not to worry. I sent a missive along to expect you, by yourself, this evening. He has alerted his staff and will have someone at the back door to let you in. And, as I said, I will be right behind you by no more than twenty minutes.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “And the hackney is on the street behind us?”
“Yes. One of my footmen arranged for it to be there, and he just checked. It awaits you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. “Be careful. Walk quickly, don’t speak to anyone, and get inside Cam’s house as fast as you can.” He kissed her on the forehead, turned her around, and opened the door. “Go.”
Her heart thrummed as she hurried down the garden path and then opened the back gate to the street. Twenty feet down a hackney waited. The night was quiet, almost eerie, although she allowed that was probably her nerves. Her quick footsteps echoed in the night as she made her way. She was out of breath and her heart practically beating out of her chest when she reached the vehicle.
The driver dropped to the ground at her approach and tugged on his cap. “Good evening, miss.”
Afraid to speak, Lizzie merely nodded and entered the coach. It was a short ride, no more than seven minutes, and as she supposed the driver had been instructed, he pulled up to the back entrance of the townhouse. Once more he climbed down from his perch and opened the door. “We’re here, miss.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled. Not looking around, afraid to see something she didn’t want to see, she practically ran from the carriage, through the garden gate, and up the pathway. She must have, indeed, been expected because the door to the service entrance opened the minute she reached the bottom step.
“Good evening, my lady. Lord Campbell awaits you in the library. If you will follow me.” A very polished and livery-attired servant met her at the door. Her heart still pounding, either from fear or from the run, she trailed behind him.
They passed a food storage area, the kitchen, a wine cellar, the scullery, then servant offices and sleeping quarters. They made their way up the cramped, twisted servants’ stairs to the ground floor. A lovely carpet covered the polished wooden floor of the corridor. The servant cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure she was still with him. “Almost there.”
“Thank you.”
He came to a stop and knocked lightly on the door. A voice within bid him enter. He opened the door and stepping inside, said, “My lord, our guest has arrived.”
The servant moved aside, and Lizzie entered the room. It was spacious, shelves of books lining the four walls. A large Cherrywood desk occupied the center of the room. A low fire burned in the fireplace, and Lord Campbell rose from the comfortable-looking chair next to the window.
He laid a book alongside a glass of some sort of liquid. He walked toward her, studying her. He bowed and took her hand. “My lady, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
She dipped a slight curtsy. “Thank you for your assistance, my lord.”
Lord Campbell was a tall man, as broad shouldered as Hawk. His curly ginger hair skimmed the top of his cravat in the back. The locks covered his forehead, right above the greenest eyes Lizzie had ever seen, surrounded by shining bronze eyelashes.
His smile was both welcoming and mischievous.
He addressed the servant, who still stood at the door. “Frankel, take the lady’s coat and have Cook send in tea.”
Lizzie shook her head. “It is quite late, my lord. That will not be necessary.” She unbuttoned the plain dark garment and shrugged out of it.
“Nonsense. Nothing helps an escape in the darkness more than a good cup of English tea.” He smiled at her. “Is that not so?”
She immediately liked this man, who was as imposing and handsome as Lord Hawkins. Even though he was as fully dressed as a gentleman should be, he looked like sin searching for a place to settle in for the night. She was quite sure he had many a lady swooning at his feet. Except Lord Campbell didn’t do the things to her insides that Hawk did.
“Once you are settled with tea, you will please explain to me what it is Hawk has dumped onto my front doorstep.” Another teasing smile.
…
Hawk quelled the desire to check his surroundings as he strode from his townhouse to Cam’s residence. Ordinarily, he never walked the streets unaware of what was going on around him. Even in the better neighborhoods, he carried his pistol in his coat pocket and had a dagger strapped to his calf. But a servant would merely hurry along and not dare to look anyone in the eye. And tonight, he was a servant.
Once they were safely settled in Cam’s townhouse, they could plan their trip to Lord Loverly’s. After Hawk had discovered whom the lovely governess in his cousin’s house was, he’d sent word to Cam to be prepared to assist in a delicate matter.
At the time, he hadn’t revealed Lady Elizabeth’s identity, and why they were secreting themselves in his house. He couldn’t trust missives, or just about anything, until this matter was settled and Lizzie was safe.
From Hawk Manor, he’d sent another note with the needed information for Cam to secure the special license. But the entire story would come out tonight. Lizzie would need more than the security of Cam’s residence over the next few days. In fact, if Cam had done what Hawk had requested, her protection, especially from the Home Office, would be solidified.
Thankfully, a light mist had arrived with the darkness. Familiar with the path from his townhouse to Cam’s, Hawk didn’t need a clear night, but used the gaslights that lit the street to guide him.
Hawk arrived at the back door, which swung open immediately. “Good evening, my lord. The young lady and Lord Campbell are in the library.”
The servant and Hawk wended their way through the basement, up the servants’ stairs, and to the ground floor. Hawk knocked briefly at the library door and entered the room. Lizzie sat across from Cam, a small table with tea service between them. They both looked up as he entered. Lizzie released a visible sigh of relief and offered him a warm smile that did strange things to the area of his body near his heart. And behind his pantaloon flap.
“Brandy?” Cam held up his own glass.
“Yes. I will get it.” Hawk moved to the sideboard and poured himself a healthy measure of the liquor. Swirling the glass, he walked to where Lizzie sat and settled alongside her. He sipped the liquor and took her hand in his.
Hawk faced Cam. “Before we start, Cam, I want you to know that Lady Elizabeth Munro is Lord Loverly’s daughter.”
If Cam had been surprised, he didn’t show it, but then he had always been very good at keeping his reactions and emotions in check. A man you did not want seated across from you at the card table. Hawk had learned that lesson too many times.
“Ah, now I understand the surveillance of Loverly’s townhouse.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his foot on his knee. “Lady Elizabeth was just about to relate her story. Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Hawk,” Cam said.
Hawk nodded. “I received a summons from the Home Office advising that Lady Elizabeth Munro had been located at my cousin, the Earl of Wycliff’s, Manor house. She had taken a job as governess to the man’s four children.” Hawk stopped to take a swallow.
Cam’s eyes shifted to Lizzie once during Hawk’s account, then back again. “Go on.”
“For some time, the theory had been that Lord Loverly had someone else working with him when he passed information to the French. The Home Office had been convinced this co-conspirator was a woman. Lady Elizabeth had been brought in and questioned, and once she’d been released, she fled to Wycliff’s estate with the assistance of a friend who recommended her for a governess position. No one knew where she was since she used a pseudonym. Even Wycliff and his wife did not know her identity until I received the letter.”
Hawk squeezed Lizzie’s hand when she began to shake. “I was ordered by the Home Office to travel to Wycliff’s estate and bring her in.” He stood and ran his fingers through his hair. “The missive was forwarded to me from my London townhouse. As fate would have it, I was visiting Wycliff at the time.”
“How convenient.”
“Indeed.” He had to finish this story up. Lizzie was becoming more agitated the longer they sat there. “Three attempts have been made on her life.”
Still no reaction from Cam, but he studied Lizzie for a few moments. He then directed his question to Hawk. “What do you make of that?”
Hawk took his seat again and placed his arm around Lizzie’s shoulders. She shook like a leaf in a windstorm.
“The first attempt was made before I even knew anything about this. She was thrown from a horse, but when we checked the saddle, the girth strap had been cut. While we were pondering that incident, I received the missive that had been forwarded to me from London. It didn’t take too much effort to put the pieces together.”
“Since you are here now, secretively, I assume you have no intention of handing Lady Elizabeth over to the Home Office.”
“No. It is my belief that someone at the Home Office is the culprit who had been working with her father and he is trying to kill her before she can come forth with that information.”
Cam directed his attention to Lizzie. “Are you claiming to know nothing?”
“That is correct, my lord. Hawk has questioned me over and over, but I remember nothing that would point to anyone who was working with my father.” The last words were barely spoken, and Hawk realized, besides recovering from a gunshot and being exhausted, she was probably uncomfortable speaking of her father to Cam.
It was time to finish up. “We—Lady Elizabeth and I—must search Loverly’s townhouse with the hope of finding papers, a journal, anything that might name this person.”
Cam frowned. “I would assume the Home Office has already done a thorough search.”
“I assume so, as well. However, we are hoping once Lady Elizabeth enters her former home, her memories will lead us to places where papers might be stashed that the Home Office overlooked. Until then, I must protect her from both the Home Office and the person who wants her silenced.”
Cam let out a slow whistle, his first reaction since Hawk had started his story. “I understand the reason for all the secrecy.”
“Exactly.”
Cam gulped the last of his drink, stood, and walked over to his desk. He opened the center desk drawer and withdrew a paper. “As you requested.” He handed it to Hawk and took his seat.
“What is that?” Lizzie frowned as she looked at the paper Cam had handed him.
“A special license. We are to be married tomorrow.”