A Lady in Hiding

by Amy Corwin

  He was also kind, although he really was a bit of a popinjay. He certainly loved his fine waistcoats and well-tailored jackets. And his thick blond hair was cut in the latest fashion.

  So why was she even thinking about him? Most likely, he had ladyloves strewn about London like the leaves of autumn.

  He smelled good, though.

  Well, he had smelled good until now. At the moment, he smelled rather strongly of cedar. It wasn’t unpleasant, just rather…pungent.

  “Why are you coming with me?” she asked when he continued to mutter to himself. She rather thought he was cursing her, and it made her feel a little uncomfortable. Her luck was already running toward the bad side, and she really didn’t need any more ill wishes clinging to her.

  “Because you hired me,” he snapped. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back onto the sidewalk when a carriage rushed around the corner in front of them.

  “I didn’t hire you to steal my box for me. I can do that. You needn’t come if you’re afraid of getting pulled.”

  “I’m not afraid of being arrested.”

  “Then why are you angry?” She dashed across the street in front of another coach and waited at the corner for William. “Hawkins always gets angry when he’s afraid.”

  “I’m not angry.” The hard fingers he wrapped around her upper arm belied that statement. “You should be in bed, resting.”

  She nodded. “Because that would have been the womanly thing to do.”

  “Yes, it would. But you haven’t a feminine bone in your body, do you?”

  “And you’ve looked mighty long and hard, too, haven’t you?”

  A grin slipped across his face, and he dragged her forward. They rushed through a pool of light surrounding a street lamp. He slowed as they entered another pocket of darkness. After walking in silence a few more blocks, his grip loosened, which was a relief since her fingers were starting to go numb.

  “I’m sorry. Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Just a few bruises,” Sarah replied jauntily, unable to resist the urge to bait him. She could almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding, although he seemed cool enough. “Nothing that won’t heal with time.”

  “Sarah—” He paused, holding her back in the shadows of a townhouse. “I would never take advantage of you. I…admire you a great deal.” The ghost of his rueful chuckle brushed past her. “Too much, in fact.”

  It was almost as if he knew what she had been thinking earlier when she fretted over his unexpected kiss. She glanced at him sharply. His handsome face was mostly hidden in the darkness. There was nothing to be gained by staring at him, trying to guess his feelings, and yet she wanted to stay there, inches away from him where she could almost hear the steady thud of his heart.

  She ought to push him away. When the case was done and he was paid, she would never see him again. An idle dalliance—even if he did admire her—was not what she wanted.

  Not what she had ever wanted from anyone.

  “That’s the sort of thing men say before they do take advantage of someone,” she replied.

  “I meant it, Sarah. I know you think I’m little more than an idiot—”

  “A handsome idiot—”

  “Damn it, will you let me finish?”

  “If you’re trying to apologize for kissing me, then consider it done.”

  He glanced away, his profile sharp despite the shadows. She thought she detected a frown marring the perfect regularity.

  “I’m not apologizing,” he said in a savage voice. “I’ve never had cause to regret kissing a female—”

  “Until now—”

  “But I made the apparently unnecessary assumption that you might feel I had taken advantage of you, considering—”

  “How I had ruined my reputation already by living as a man?”

  “Yes—no! I knew you would think that, even if I did not.”

  She eyed him curiously, trying very hard not to cry. Her heart thumped so loudly she wasn’t sure she could speak without a throb in her voice. She wanted so desperately to hear that he liked her, despite it all.

  Admiration…what was that? She could admire the design of a brick wall, but she had never wanted to kiss one.

  “Then what did you think?” she asked, realizing how desperate she was for the slightest sign of affection.

  Silence for a heartbeat. Her shoulders drooped. Whatever he thought, he was not going to tell her. So it had to be unpleasant. Men always avoided speaking about unpleasant things.

  “I honestly don’t know,” he said at last. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and gave another low chuckle. “You drive me to distraction—and I think you do it purposely.”

  “Perhaps I do.” She pulled him away from the shadows and strode forward.

  She had lived a perfectly comfortable life before she met William Trenchard. Once this matter was resolved, she would resume that life, as a man.

  There was no point in wishing otherwise.

  As they passed a quiet side street, William steered her into the darkness. They stopped in the shadows of a crumbling brick wall. Aware of his nearness, she searched for a distraction. Her hands reflexively felt the bricks, fingers prying into the mortar. English bond, but bad mortar. Too much sand. It turned to dust under her nails, like her life, crumbling around her.

  All she could do was shake off the feeling of impending disaster and search for distractions. And hope her increasingly desperate, devil-may-care attitude could fool fate—and everyone around her— into believing everything was all right.

  “Pay attention,” William said, catching at her hands. “God, your hands are cold. Are you sure you’re well enough?”

  “Absolutely. It’s got to be done. No sense waiting.”

  “We’re going to have to wait a little while, regardless. It’s not even midnight yet. And we need to discuss how we intend to, ah, regain your box.”

  “That’s simple.” Sarah tried to look into William’s blue eyes in the darkness. All she could see was the occasional gleam and the hard line of his jaw.

  “Simple? Really? I wish you’d explain how you intend to accomplish this, since I haven’t the faintest notion.”

  She snorted.

  “Don’t do that,” he said. “Ladies don’t make sounds like that.”

  She snorted again and followed it with a chuckle. She could feel his body tense, radiating heat in the shadows. She leaned a tad closer. Too bad, she couldn’t see his face.

  Kiss me again—silence me with your mouth. The thought whispered through her mind like a caress.

  Then, she realized she had been pushing him, hoping for that very thing. Trying to get him to lose control one more time.

  This would never do. Never do at all.

  “We’ll go around to the servant’s entrance, or cellars. There’ll be a coal shaft. Or maybe a window. Perhaps even an unlocked door. There often is, you know. I’ve done work for enough grand houses to know there’s always a way in for a clever lad.” She grabbed the front of his jacket. “Did you manage to find where he keeps the box?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  That concerned her. They’d have to search the entire house and hope Mr. Carnaby hadn’t decided to sleep with the blasted thing under his pillow. At least she felt relatively sure it wouldn’t be anywhere in the servants’ area.

  “Is Mr. Carnaby married?” she asked, trying to decide which rooms would be the most profitable for their search.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea. Why?”

  “Just working out where he might have hidden it. A gentleman tends to use just a few rooms, particularly if he’s married. The library. And if he fancies it, a billiards room. And his bedchamber. Do you think he’s a billiards man?”

  “No.”

  “We’ll start with the library, then,” Sarah said.

  Suddenly, she realized she was trapped against the wall with William looming over her. His right hand pressed against the bricks above her head.
Her heart fluttered and almost without realizing it, she tilted her head up. His lips hung inches from hers. Her breathing slowed.

  “You seem very well-informed for a bricklayer, Sarah, dear. Are you sure you haven’t been gainfully, and perhaps even profitably, employed during the evening hours by a second line of work?”

  She laughed weakly and tried to push him away. Beneath the coarse jacket, his chest felt like a stone wall warmed by the sun. “Don’t be ridiculous. Simple logic.”

  “Indeed,” he whispered. His lips brushed over her temple and cheek before finding her mouth.

  “Here now!” a coarse voice called. “Is someone there?”

  William swore. He pushed Sarah back further into the shadows. Then, he sauntered alone toward the streetlight at the mouth of the narrow street. “What do you want?”

  “What are you doing there?” the man asked sharply.

  Sarah crouched and peered forward, knowing she would be overlooked, or mistaken for a dog in the darkness. A burly member of the watch stood at the corner, brandishing a club. He twirled the stout stick and flipped it upward to rest one end on his shoulder while he watched William.

  “Just resting my feet,” William replied.

  “Well, rest ’em elsewhere,” the watch said. He gestured with his club. William moved in the direction indicated.

  Watching William walk slowly down the street, Sarah waited. The watchman finally turned and moved at a leisurely pace in the opposite direction, poking his stick into the doorways and shadows.

  When he had drifted a block away, Sarah leapt to her feet. She ran until she caught up with William. Her hand pressed against the wound in her side as the muscles ached from the effort. Even her lungs hurt. For a moment, she wondered if she had enough strength to keep up with him. The night pressed ever darker against her.

  She wasn’t a weakling. She refused to give in to the light-headed feeling.

  “You still think this is such a good idea?” he commented when she stumbled to a stop next to him.

  “Where’s your heart?” she replied, struggling to sound undiscouraged despite the burning in her side. Then, the excitement of being out in the dark on an adventure with William caught her. Her breathing sharpened. She wanted to laugh with the sudden, inexplicable joy of the moment.

  “My heart is in my throat,” William replied dryly. “Have you considered that Mr. Carnaby might have dogs?”

  “Did you see any dogs?” She pulled him forward.

  “No.”

  “Perhaps we ought to stop at the butcher’s on the way. If it makes you feel any better.”

  He sounded as if he were choking. “We are not going to burglarize the butcher’s tonight.”

  “Well, if you’d remembered to bring a few bones with you—”

  “Forget the dogs,” he interrupted in savage tones. “They can gnaw on my arm while you search for the box, no doubt cutting the throats of every inhabitant while you’re at it.”

  “Maybe there won’t even be any dogs,” she replied consolingly, doing her best not to giggle. “And I won’t slit any more throats than absolutely necessary.”

  “You know, I believe you’re enjoying this, you unholy wretch.”

  “You know, I believe you’re right.”

  “Have you no decent feelings at all?”

  She chewed the tip of her forefinger for a moment to allow his aggravation to reach the highest possible peak. “No. I really think I don’t. It’s very sad, isn’t it?”

  They walked the final few blocks in silence. Sarah wondered if she had pushed him a little too far.

  “You’re not angry, are you?” she asked when he paused, studying a quiet townhouse on their left.

  “No.” His voice sounded shaky.

  “Are you laughing?”

  “No,” he replied. But his shoulders shook and there was the definite sound of a sniffling snort. The sort of sound one makes trying to stifle a laugh.

  “You are laughing at me,” she accused him, relieved.

  “Will you please be quiet!” he said finally. His head tilted up to survey the windows. They were all dark, although it was just half past midnight.

  She glanced up and down the street. There were still coaches and carriages trundling by, along with a few men on horseback and the occasional cart. The poor, ignored by one and all, stumbled along with their eyes fixed on the ground searching for items to salvage. They weren’t the least bit interested in another wretched pair like William and Sarah.

  “Let’s go around the back,” she said, tugging at his cloak.

  He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into the shadows cast by the high brick wall surrounding Carnaby’s townhouse. It was topped by iron spikes. The wicked points thrust upward, interspersed with decorative curls that did nothing to disguise the essential unfriendliness of the barrier.

  “We’ll have to climb over the fence,” William said. “If we can find a shadowy spot.”

  An oak tree stood at the corner, but it was near a lamp that threw a golden glow over the brick wall. Sarah slid around the corner. She glanced around quickly. Then she clambered over the wall before William could voice a protest.

  On the other side, she crouched next to the wall, waiting. No dog barked. Nothing moved in the darkness. The smell of freshly turned soil arose, almost making her sneeze. She grabbed her nose between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Her eyes watered, but she stayed quiet.

  “Sarah!” William whispered.

  “Climb over!” she whispered back. Then with a grin, she knew he couldn’t see, she added, “There aren’t any dogs. You’re perfectly safe unless you’re afraid of heights. Are you afraid of heights?”

  There was a scrapping noise and some soft swearing before William landed on the ground next to her in a half-crouch. He remained crouching although he edged crabwise backward into the shadow of the wall before looking around. Sarah studied the narrow space between the wall and the townhouse. There was a strip of crumbly soil and then paving stones forming a wide apron around the walkway leading to a shallow stoop.

  Since they could hardly go knocking at the front door, she started to slip around to the left. She angled toward the rear of the building. But William grabbed her wrist, stopping her short.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice muffled by his hood.

  “Around back. After all, we can’t sit out here hoping someone will invite us in.”

  “I noticed a side entrance along the other wall.” He gestured to their right. “We should try that, first.”

  “What? Past the gate?” She eyed the wide, iron gate. Two lamps were set on either side of it. One was dark, but the other still shed light over the gate and the walkway. Anyone glancing at the gate would see them if they crossed the front of the building. “Too much light,” she added.

  William seemed to consider this. However, after less than a minute, he yanked her in that direction, anyway. They crept along the base of the wall, staying well below the top edge of the bricks. When they got to the main gate, he glanced through the iron bars. Then, he ran across the exposed walkway. When he reached the shadows on the other side, he again risked looking through the gate. He waved to Sarah to join him.

  She dashed across, feeling vulnerable as the lamplight flashed over her. He grabbed her around the hips and hauled her down behind him. Then he glanced through the iron bars one last time.

  “Why couldn’t we have gone the other way?” she asked. “It was darker that way. More hidden.”

  “Because if I’m not mistaken about the layout of this townhouse, Mr. Carnaby’s bedroom is on the other side. Do you want to get caught?”

  “I was being quiet,” she replied, feeling aggrieved and misunderstood. How was she to know where Carnaby’s bedroom was? She’d never been in a fine townhouse like his, at least not conscious.

  “Shush,” William said, putting a hand over her mouth. He listened and then dragged her along the wall. Finally, they cut across the paving t
o the base of the townhouse.

  Just as he had indicated, there were a few steps and a narrow door. Sarah tried to climb the stairs, but he pulled her back by grabbing the hood of her cloak.

  She was getting used to his manhandling. And to her dismay, she rather liked it. For some strange reason, each time he hauled her around, she felt protected and cared for.

  Very odd.

  “Wait here,” he said. He slithered up the stairs and tried the door. With a shake of his head, he rejoined her.

  “Then it’s the coal bin for us,” she said. “It’s probably locked, but it’s usually easy to break.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She giggled breathlessly and shook her head. When she was newly apprenticed to Mr. Hawkins, she had often gotten in and out of the house through the coal chute. It tended to be messy, but a bit of black dust never bothered her when she could escape outside to wade in the stream during the summer. Or steal a fresh apple pie from the larder.

  Sarah grabbed William’s large, warm hand and dragged him behind her, keeping close to the building. In the darkness, they nearly fell down the short flight of stairs that led to the cellars. She ran down the steps to check that door, but it was locked. There was no convenient pane of glass to break so they could enter. She shrugged and rejoined William, determined to find another way.

  It took several minutes to work the rest of the way around the house. At the rear, they found a wooden hatch covering the coal chute. A padlock secured the small door, but the hasp was slightly rusty. One of the screws holding the metal hasp was missing. Sarah jiggled it experimentally and felt it loosen. With a grin, she grabbed it with both hands and braced her foot next to the lock, straining to pull it free.

  There was a splintering sound and a slight give, but it remained in place. Her side ached from the effort. She pressed an elbow against her ribs and desperately searched for the strength to try again. William’s broad shoulder nudged her aside. He wrapped his hands around the lock and yanked. The metal squealed and the remaining three screws popped out.