“That’s what peeking out of windows will get you, I suppose,” she said when she could control herself again. “Is he gone yet?”
“He’s gone. If the earl ever wonders why no ivy grows on that side of the stable doors, you’ll have an answer for him, although you might be wise not to volunteer the reason.”
Dany’s only response was to carefully pull back the drapery again, and continue her surveillance, suggesting the baron do the same.
Which they did, for nearly two hours, during which neither spoke and many carriages made their way down the alleyway to return to stables that lined the mews.
Harnesses jingled, grooms and stable boys shouted to one another, stable doors banged and slammed. London certainly wasn’t known for its quiet, no matter the hour.
Other than that business with Sam, Dany believed she had never been so bored in her life. She’d totally forgotten that she and her supposed fiancé were alone in her bedchamber. There was nothing romantical about their current situation, and if she yawned one more time she would have no recourse but to go over to her pitcher and basin and splash cold water on her face to stay awake.
“He’s not coming,” she said at last, breaking the silence. “This has been an entire waste of a compromise, you know, now that you’ve as good as said tonight was our only chance to capture the man. I can only hope you’re not an efficient hero, and have already sent off a letter to my father. Or worse, a notice to the newspapers.”
“It’s too late to worry about that, I’m afraid. Since both my mother and her boon chum the Duchess of Cranbrook, who you met earlier today, were guests at the same dinner party this evening, I imagine the news of our coming nuptials will be served up at breakfast all over Mayfair tomorrow. Today,” he corrected.
Dany left her seat and joined him as he kept his watch over the mews. “Upcoming nuptials? Why would you phrase it that way? You said you were going to allow me to cry off.”
“I remember. You punched me for it. The offer does remain open, but I’ve realized that hearing Darby and Minerva point out all the reasonableness and benefits of the thing and actually dragging you into this mess are two very different things. Therefore,” he continued, still doggedly looking out the window, “I’ve decided to leave matters entirely in your hands. I came to London to search for a wife, my idea being that a wife by my side would put an end to all the nonsense. I’ll admit to that, as well. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t throw away their idea, and allowed myself to be carried along, shall we say, by the tide of events.”
He finally looked at her. “And you didn’t say no.”
“Oh, so now I’m part of the reason, am I? I am to shoulder my share of blame for the predicament you tossed us into today? And who is Minerva?”
“My mother. You’ll meet her tomorrow. I’ve found myself rather looking forward to seeing the two of you together. Darby mentioned the possibility of selling tickets of admittance actually.”
“I’m certain I won’t like her. She sounds utterly overbearing, and obviously still has you tied to her apron strings. The more I know of you, Cooper Townsend, the less I understand how you ever became a hero.”
“At least we finally agree on something. In my defense, I do have a very good reason for not wanting the blackmailer to publish his threatened third volume, and since you and your sister are my only current avenues to finding the bastard, I plead guilty to using you. The both of you.”
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. Finally. “The chapbooks don’t just embarrass you, do they? You’re in a prodigious amount of trouble, aren’t you? I felt it from the beginning, or at least I’d like to tell myself I did. Does the viscount know? Your mother? Are you going to tell me? I think you owe it to me. To tell me, that is.”
He squeezed her hand for a moment. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Nobody knows. Darby has made a few guesses, as have you, but mine isn’t the only reputation at stake here. I was asked to swear to secrecy and rewarded for my agreement. That, too, doesn’t make me a hero, in case you were about to point that out. But at least I’m still breathing.”
Now it was her turn to place her hand on his. “For how long?”
“Pardon me?” He was leaning closer to the glass. “How long for what?”
“How long will you still be breathing?”
“I’ve entertained that question myself, and the only answer that seems plausible is as long as God gives me, if I find the blackmailer before he can publish whatever he believes to be the damning truth.”
“Is there a damning truth?”
He turned and smiled at her, and her traitorous heart melted. “Isn’t there always?”
“Yes, I suppose so. I’m sorry. I’m even more sorry that the blackmailer didn’t show himself tonight.”
“Because you were hoping for a good chase down the alleyway, or because you’re still stuck with your grandmother’s paste garnets?”
Dany smiled. “I know you’re joking to be kind, but you really are a very nice man. I promise to be less of a problem to you, I really do. When I can,” she added, because a caveat would at least keep her from feeling too guilty if she couldn’t manage to keep herself from acting on her own if the opportunity arose.
He looked at her in the faint moonlight. “Thank you. I’m still not going to tell you why I’m being blackmailed, you know.”
Dany shrugged, far from defeated. “You will. Eventually. You won’t be able to help yourself. Just ask anyone. I’m very persuasive.”
“You mean you wear people down to the point where it’s simply easier to let you get your way.”
She turned toward the gap in the draperies. “I take it back. You’re not that nice. I thought women were supposed to be this huge mystery to men.”
“Is that so? Then I suppose you’ll have to leave off being so utterly transparent. Come on, I think we’re done here for tonight. He’s not going to show.”
“Just five more minutes. There hasn’t been a carriage coming back to the stables for a good quarter hour. He might feel safe now to approach. Oh, fiddle, I was wrong. Here comes another one.”
Coop all but put his cheek next to hers as he took a look for himself. “That’s not a carriage, it’s a hackney.”
“A what?”
“A hired cab. There’s no reason for a hired cab to be in this alleyway. Move.”
Dany moved. She had no choice but to move, because Coop had pushed her back enough so that he could reach the casement handle and begin turning it.
Dany ran to the other window to watch, her head pounding with excitement. Sure enough, the hackney stopped directly in front of the Cockermouth stables, and a dark-clad figure hopped down.
Carrying a stool?
“He’s carrying a stool? Why on earth would he be carrying—oh, that’s not fair. It’s a child, isn’t it? Look, he’s put the stool down and stepping up on it to—yes, there goes Mari’s letter. And my garnets. And now he’s putting something into the...”
Coop’s ear-piercing whistles, two in quick succession, cut off what she would have said next, although why she was telling him what he could readily see for himself she had no idea.
After all, she was already halfway to the door.
COOP