Haynesdale regarded Nicholas with a smile. “You are never daunted, are you?”
“Fear serves no purpose. It is better to consider the matter, make a choice and proceed. One must accept that the result may be otherwise than one hopes.” He shrugged. If he were to die this morning, he at least had the satisfaction of one kiss from Eliza.
Haynesdale consulted his watch. “We should leave in an hour or so. Will you have a drink with me?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I would brush Sterling, if you do not mind.”
“Of course, I do not mind. He is your horse.”
“But in your stable.”
Haynesdale waved off this detail and they continued in silence. Nicholas knew he had to ask. “Will you take the money for me?” he asked softly. “If all goes awry, it must go to support Helena. She cannot hold it herself, you understand, for I fear she inherited my father’s inability to have a penny without spending it.”
Haynesdale smiled. “You may rely upon me.”
“There is another thousand pounds in my room at Aunt Fanny’s,” Nicholas confessed, then told his friend where to find it. He surrendered the notes he had won and Haynesdale tucked them away before the cab halted before the house.
“I have every confidence that I will be returning these to you shortly,” Haynesdale said and Nicholas smiled. They shook hands, agreed to depart in an hour, and he strode to the alley at the back of the house. An hour to gather his thoughts was more than sufficient, and he would be glad to spend that time doing a task he favored above all others—grooming a horse.
Eliza could not sleep.
She could not cease to fret about the pending duel. As confident as she was of Captain Emerson’s abilities and as much as she understood his justification, there was an uncertainty about the result that agitated her. What if Melbourne won? What if Nicholas was injured?
What if either of them were killed?
She ate a light supper with her mother and retired early, her own interest in the arrangement of the new gardens utterly exhausted. She tried to read, but could not concentrate. She had no patience with her needlework. She had no letters to write, and no gloves to mend. Instead, she stood at the window, the light extinguished, watching for something she could not name, her thoughts spinning.
And so it was that she was at the darkened window when the cab arrived. She saw Damien and Nicholas descend to the street and shake hands heartily. Damien approached the front steps and she heard his greeting to Higgins when he was out of her view. Nicholas, however, marched down the street to the corner, then turned crisply down the next.
Was he walking to his aunt’s home?
It could not be long before the two men departed for Wimbleton. Perhaps Nicholas went to the stables. The access to Three King’s Yard was directly behind the house, on Davies Street. The captain could walk around the block and head toward the house in the back route to reach the stables. Would he do as much?
Eliza reckoned he would.
She left her room, darting down the silent hall and into the guest chamber at the back of the house. She crossed the room in darkness and looked out the window. The entrance to Three King’s Yard was visible from this window and she saw the distinctive silhouette of Captain Emerson as he entered the alley.
He was going to the stables, where his horse was boarded.
This granted her an opportunity to speak with him.
And though she hoped for the best and believed in his abilities, there was always a possibility of ill-fortune. Given that, there was one confession Eliza had to make while yet she could.
Chapter 8
Eliza fairly flew back to her room and dressed quickly. Though she had no desire to summon a maid at this hour, she had dressed without one before. She fastened the back of a dress that was slightly too large and wriggled into it, rolled up the braid of her hair, and seized a heavy cloak that would ensure her modesty. She carried her boots and crept down the stairs, only donning them in the shadows at the back door of the house.
It was ten feet to the stables, which glowed with golden light. She could hear Thomson snoring, for his room was over the stables, and Tupper, the stablemaster, was awake late and pacing. A boy sat at the door, keeping watch, and nodded at her appearance. Another was sweeping out a stall, pushing straw and manure into the alley with a broom. Both carriages were in the shadows at one end of the stables, and she could hear the low murmur of a familiar male voice.
Nicholas!
“I have a message for Captain Emerson,” she told the boy and he pointed down the length of the stables.
“Just there, my lady. With Sterling.”
Of course.
Eliza could see a light in a distant stall, the golden glow from the lantern spilling into the central corridor of the stables. The stables were warm, smelling of straw and horseflesh, a welcome reminder of days in the country. Nicholas had shed his jacket, for she saw the distinctive red of his regimentals cast over the end of the stall, and he was talking to his horse in a low murmur. When she reached the stall, she simply stood and admired him for a long moment, taking advantage of the fact that he was unaware of her presence.
