“Back to the Pulteney, to retrieve your coach, and then I’ll follow you to the duchess, where I’ll gather up Dany and take her back to her sister.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Coop believed he could actually feel Gabe’s smile in the dark inside the hackney. “No, of course you wouldn’t. But you’ve forgotten something, Romeo. We’re meeting Rigby and Darby back at the hotel.”
“Damn.” Coop felt ten times the fool. How could he have forgotten that? But he had news for Dany, and she’d be overjoyed to see her sister’s letters. Really overjoyed. Even grateful. “Gabe, I’m turning into a very bad man.”
“Yes, that happens when a man tumbles into love,” his friend said matter-of-factly. “We also at times act like fools, and make rare cakes of ourselves. I’m saying this, you understand, as a man who rode to London in the back of a wagon filled with birdcages, just so I could be near Thea.”
“Why was your fiancée riding with what I will assume were your uncle’s parrots?”
“I didn’t say we men are the only ones who make cakes of ourselves when we tumble into love, did I? But that’s another reason why it might be best if you allowed Miss Foster to remain where she is, surrounded by women who will be more than happy to— You know, Coop, you may be right. Perhaps you should escort her back to the countess.”
“My mother was still there when you left?”
“She was. Also prepared to stay the night. And my aunt Vivien, of course.”
“And Rigby’s Clarice?”
“And my Thea,” Gabe added, chuckling. “They were all in the drawing room, having a lovely chat, when I left. Although perhaps escaped might be a better choice of word.”
Coop thought about the situation, thought about his mother, the duchess, Clarice. “I have to get her out of there.”
“A true den of female iniquity, I agree. Complete with whispers and feminine giggles and, for the matrons, a decanter of gin employed to stiffen their cups of Bohea. But first, the Pulteney. If what I saw when I quickly looked at the papers I pilfered from Ferdie’s hidey-hole contain what I believe they do, I think the last of your problems may just have been solved and you can return to your new estate, to grow turnips.”
Coop’s head turned so quickly he should have been in danger of snapping his neck. “Did you say turnips?”
“Yes. Turnips. I was given a quick summary of the grand climax to The Chronicles of a Hero. You rescue the fair damsel—I think that would make five now, yes?—and the Crown declares you a hero once more and releases you from further obligations so that you can return to your first love as a botanist, eager to serve the Crown in another way, by inventing new varieties of winter-hardy turnips meant to ease hunger in the masses.”
“Gad! Minerva. I suppose I won’t have to worry about being mobbed on the streets anymore, there is that. But...turnips?”
“Turnips,” Gabe repeated, and then went off into howls of laughter until, against all reason and even sanity, Coop joined in.
DANY HAD RELUCTANTLY gone up to her borrowed bed just after midnight, still hoping Coop would come knocking on the door with good news.
Now she not only had to worry about Mari, but she was forced to worry about Coop, who could have failed, could be bleeding in a ditch or could have just not considered it necessary to seek her out because he didn’t care if she was going quietly out of her mind with worry.
And what did that say about the man?
What did it say about her?
“That I’m a fool,” she told herself as she punched once more at her pillows, unable to sleep. And what did Clarice say, hmm? Men don’t buy the cow when they can get all the milk they want for free. Yes, that was it. And everyone else had laughed, except for Thea. Dany hadn’t understood at first, and when she did, her cheeks had gone hot with embarrassment.
“But they do come back,” Clarice had gone on to say. “My goodness, sometimes there’s no getting shed of them. Isn’t that right, Minerva?”
“I like this gel,” Coop’s mother had said, saluting Clarice with her well-laced cup of tea. “Knows the way of the world, she does. And when they come back for more? Ah, that’s when a wise woman plays the maiden all over again, until the poor sot can’t stand anymore and begs—pleads!—for her hand in marriage. Then, of course, you’re really stuck with him. Look at you, Viv, for pity’s sake. You’ve been stuck with Basil for nearly forty years. Stuck to him, in your case. Randy old goat.”
“Yes, but that’s all right, if there’s love,” Clarice had argued. “I love my Jerry straight down to my toes. What do you have to say for yourself, Thea? And remember, I was there when you and Gabe were courting, so don’t try to play the innocent with us, for it won’t fudge.”
Thea had just smiled and lifted the tray of lemon squares. “Anyone care for another?”
Dany had grabbed one, and shoved the entire thing into her mouth, so that she didn’t have to say anything at all.
Now here she was, where she didn’t want to be, knowing nothing she needed to know, and caught between worry for Coop and a strong desire to box his ears for not dutifully reporting back to her on what had transpired since she’d last seen him.
And when she’d last seen him, he had been all tight-lipped and clamped jaw and looking very, very dangerous.
She threw back the badly mussed covers and stood up, fully prepared to pace away the remainder of the night, but when she heard the faint click of the latch she quickly dived back beneath the covers, to lay on her side, her back to the door, and feign sleep.
The last, simply the last, thing she needed at the moment was one of the ladies—dear women, all of them—stopping by to share something else she really didn’t want to hear.
She felt the faint pressure of someone joining her on the mattress, and prayed the next voice she heard wouldn’t be that of Minerva Townsend, who had already heard the story of the assault on the roadway twice—and why had the two of them driven so far from London in the first place?—and still believed there must be more details being kept from her.
“Dany? Dany, are you asleep?”
Coop? Here, in the duke’s residence? In her bedchamber? With the mansion chock-full of people—his mother!—any of them fully capable of discovering him here?
Was he insane?
She didn’t move. It would be better for both of them if she feigned sleep and he went away.
Was she insane?
“Coop!” she exclaimed, throwing off the covers so she could sit up, launch herself into his arms, pressing kisses all over his face.
“Happy to see me?” he joked after he’d finally captured her mouth in a long, satisfying kiss that ended with the two of them reclined against the pillows.
“You could have come sooner,” she said, remembering that cow and milk business Clarice and everyone had thought so amusing. “Are you all right? Where have you been? What were you doing? Did Thea’s husband find you? You didn’t shoot anyone, did you? Who let you into the house? Who told you where I— You didn’t just prowl up and down the halls, looking in every room until you found me? Say something.”
“I was waiting for you to run out of breath. Although I must say your concern—for most everything—has been amusing to