A Most Dangerous Profession

chapter 9





From the diary of Michael Hurst, awaiting his release from the sulfi holding him hostage.


I’ve received word that William is on his way with the onyx box. I hate to give it up, but what must be, must be. I hope he also remembers the port I requested last month. Being in such close quarters with Miss Smythe-Haughton is taking a toll. Despite my warnings she has tried to develop a friendship with my captor, with dire consequences. The man now thinks himself enamored of her and has offered to purchase her.

I must admit, I am sorely tempted. I certainly hope William remembers the port.

The next time Moira awoke, the sun was well up in the afternoon sky. In Robert’s place by the bed was an overly cheery maid named Firtha, who began to flit about the room and chatter nonstop in a way that made Moira’s mood even less sunny.

With Firtha’s help, Moira washed and changed into a fresh gown. Though the simple tasks tired her, she felt much better. She should be ready to travel come morning. “Firtha, I’m starving.”

“Och, miss, I’ll ha’ a tray brought immediately.” Firtha rang a bell and asked the answering footman to bring some luncheon, while Moira moved to a comfortable chair by the crackling fireplace. She hoped for a little peace with her meal, but with her tray came her hostess.

Lady Anne was a broad-faced woman dressed in a new frilly gown that reflected last year’s fashions to perfection. Obviously glad for some company other than servants, she welcomed Moira and then recounted the exciting events of the day of the accident, asking a myriad of questions.

Moira answered every inquiry politely, glad that as the conversation continued, her hostess seemed quite content to carry on both sides. That left Moira to her own thoughts.

Perhaps the time had come to include Robert in her plans to obtain the onyx box. She had a risky idea of how to retrieve it without Lord Ross being any the wiser, and a little help would be welcome. But the truly big question, the one that burned in her heart, was how did Robert feel about Rowena? Once they freed her, would he wish for custody? Panic immediately began to rise at the thought.

I can’t think about that now; I’ve got to get that box to win her freedom. And the sooner I speak to Robert about it, the better. She picked up her teacup and waited for her hostess to pause for a breath. “Lady Anne, I would like to visit my husband before dinner. We need to plan our travel now that one of the coaches is gone and—” She stopped at Lady Anne’s incredulous gaze.

“But my dear, I thought you knew. Mr. Hurst already left.”

Moira set the teacup into the dish so hard that it rattled. “What?”

“He didn’t say good-bye, but left us a very nice letter.” Lady Anne grimaced. “Oh, dear, he left you a letter, too. I should have thought of it, but I was so happy to see you sitting up that—Firtha! Pray go downstairs to the front hall and bring back the letter addressed to Mrs. Hurst.”

The maid dipped a curtsy and left while Moira curled her hands about the arms of her chair in frustration. He left me a letter? Why in hell didn’t he just wake me up and tell me he was leaving? But she knew the answer: she would have argued and he didn’t wish to hear her objections. The coward!

Lady Anne sighed. “I can see you’re upset, and no wonder. Men can be so impatient.”

“What time did he leave?”

“Early this morning. I’m surprised I didn’t hear his coach being brought around, for my bedchamber is right off the main courtyard and I’m a notoriously light sleeper. If he hadn’t left a note we would never have known he was gone until breakfast.”

“He can be very impulsive.” And arrogant, and a great pain in the ass, too.

Lady Anne must have noticed that Moira’s teeth were clenched, for the older lady looked uneasy. “He said he wouldn’t be long—just a week or a little more.”

“Ha! With the roads the way they are? He’s mad.”

“Oh, dear.” Lady Anne fidgeted with the brocade trim on one of her sleeves. “I do hope—”

Firtha returned and handed a neatly addressed note to Moira.

She ripped it open.


Moira,



I’m off to fetch the onyx box. I’ll return as soon as possible and we’ll make plans to retrieve Rowena. Rest easy; come what may, I shall not allow Ross to keep the artifact. Aniston’s fate, too, is sealed, though he does not know it.



I know you would have preferred to travel along for this adventure, but I work better on my own. In the meantime, stay with the squire and his wife. I shall bring another coach with me for our return to Edinburgh.



Yours,

Hurst


Moira refolded the letter, resisting the unladylike temptation to wad it into a ball and stomp it into flatness.

Lady Anne cleared her throat. “I hope the letter explains everything to your satisfaction.”

Moira tucked the note into the pocket of her gown and managed to say fairly calmly, “Hurst has continued on our journey and will see about hiring another coach, since we lost one of ours.”

“Ah. I suppose that explains why he took all of the horses with him.”

Moira’s teacup was halfway to her lips, but at that, she lowered it. “I’m sorry, did you say . . . he took all of the horses?”

“Yes. And all of the footmen and coachmen, too.” Lady Anne’s brow lowered. “I still can’t believe we didn’t hear them! That’s quite a retinue.”

Moira managed a smile, though it cost her dearly. Oh, the things she’d have to say to Robert the next time she saw him. She didn’t know exactly when that would be, but it would be far sooner than he thought.

“There, there,” Lady Anne said bracingly. “Don’t look so gloomy. You needn’t fear that you’ll languish here while waiting for your husband.” Lady Anne patted Moira’s hand, as if conferring a treat upon a child. “The squire and I are quite well thought of in the neighborhood, and we’re planning a quiet little dinner party for your amusement once you feel more the thing. We won’t have dancing—I fear that would tire you too much—just a nice, snug little dinner party and some music. Mrs. MacDunnon’s oldest daughter is coming. She recently returned from Rome, where she took singing lessons from La Cabrini!”

On and on Lady Anne went, describing in endless detail all of the things she thought would amuse a woman of the world, which she plainly thought Moira to be. Though she longed to scream, Moira murmured, “How delightful!” at appropriate intervals.

Lady Anne took this for encouragement. While her hostess babbled on, Moira planned her escape. If Robert thought he could just leave her behind, he was a fool.

She interrupted, “I beg your pardon, Lady Anne, but I think I should return to my bed.”

“Oh, dear! It’s your first day up and you must be tired, yet here I’m babbling on and on.” Lady Anne stood. “I’ll leave you to rest. If you want anything, just ring the bell and Firtha will see to it.”

“Thank you. That’s so kind of you, but I think I’ll sleep for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Very well, my dear. If you’re up to it, we dine at seven.”

“I look forward to meeting the squire. Do you think I might have a bath before dinner?”

“Of course! I’ll send one up now and Firtha will come back at six to help you dress. No late city hours for us here in the country!” With an arch look Lady Anne finally left, Firtha following with the luncheon tray.

Moira waited for the door to close. Then she crossed to the wardrobe, collected a small trunk, and placed it on the bed. It was a large and heavy case, made with iron bands and a heavy wood bottom, all covered with leather. She reached inside, flipped two hidden latches, and removed a thin false bottom. Inside was a complete suit of clothing befitting a gentleman of fashion, a dark wig, a packet of hairpins, and a fat pouch of coins.

She counted the coins, replaced the items, and returned the portmanteau to the wardrobe floor. Perhaps Robert had done her a favor. A lady of fashion traveling in a coach would need two days to reach her destination. A gentleman on a good horse traveling ventre à terre could make the same trip much quicker.

But she was still weak from her illness, so rest was crucial. She slipped back into bed. She’d sleep the rest of the afternoon to conserve her energy, then eat dinner with the squire and his wife. But as soon as her host and hostess were abed, she’d make her way to the stables, and borrow a horse. To assuage her conscience, she’d leave her hosts a letter and a generous portion of the coins.

She snuggled under the covers and curled onto her side, examining her plan for flaws.

It will work. She settled against her pillows and almost immediately fell asleep, dreaming of riding pell-mell across the moors, chasing a black-haired devil with eyes of blue.