She looked askance at him. “If you must know, I have to fetch my maid. We left her to visit with her sister.”
“I will accompany you.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said tartly.
“Well, I think it is. You don’t want your brother to hear you’ve been out making calls without your maid, do you?” He shrugged. “I cannot leave you alone with a good conscience.”
“Morgan! Why are you trying to strong-arm me?” She stared daggers at him for a long moment. Then suddenly, her lipsturned up into a sunny smile. “Actually, that would be lovely. I am starving. Perhaps we could stop first and have some food?” She patted the seat next to her.
Her sudden change in demeanor raised his guard, the inner working of her sharp mind always a mystery. Nevertheless, it had been his idea to accompany her, so he nodded. “I’ll just tie Sullivan’s lead to the back.”
Cage whistled as he walked over to his horse. He led Sullivan behind the barouche and tied the lead to the back. Then he climbed in next to Caroline.
She leaned forward. “The Claridge Hotel, please.”
“Have you ever been to Greenhill?” Cage asked.
Caroline shook her head.
“It’s a bit rowdy at night, but quite tame during the day. I know of a meat pasty vendor whose food is delicious.”
Caroline’s eyes grew round with curiosity. Then she nodded. “William, let’s be sensible and go pick up Susie first, then off to Greenhill Gardens.” She sat back against the velvet squabs of the carriage. “I’ve never eaten anything from a street vendor. Where do you sit? Do you eat and stroll all at once? Do you eat with your hands?”
She looked delighted at the prospect, and Cage chuckled. Sheltered she might be, but her curiosity held no bounds. She reminded him of Grace. “I believe we can find a nice bench to sit and eat our food. Tell me more about your feeling of being followed.”
“You believe me?” She asked.
“Yes, when did you notice it?”
“Well, Monday, my mother and I were on Bond Street shopping. And I just had this prickly feeling on the back of my neck. Like when someone is watching you from across a crowded room. I dismissed my feeling because we had three footmen with us; we were hardly in danger. But the next day, when I leftLady Hartley’s house with Emma and Lucy, I again could not shake the feeling of being watched. But there was no one else on the street and just the park across from the house. So unless someone was lurking in the trees…” She shrugged.
Her news disturbed him. There certainly could have been someone in the trees. Whoever sent those letters could have sent a tail. Or more disturbing, been following the women himself. If Caroline were his mark, he would collect information on her daily schedule, observe how much protection she had around her, and look for opportunities to catch her alone.
The sender must have guessed she would share the letters with her brother. It would have been smarter not to alert her of his intentions. Unless the man was unhinged, which made the situation all the more dangerous.
He slid a glance at Caroline. She had her face upturned to the sun. A small sigh of pleasure escaped her lips before she settled back into the shade of the hood. Even in the small pleasures, like the warmth of the bright sunshine, she allowed herself just a taste before remembering that ladies were not supposed to let the sun freckle their complexion. He’d never met a creature so hungry for freedom.
With her curious mind, she should be traveling the world. He would love to take her to explore the streets of Athens or Venice. Her skin would turn golden from the Mediterranean sun as they toured the city, taking in the architecture and visiting the museums. And during the hot afternoons, they would siesta, and he would learn every inch of her smooth skin with his lips. Then later at supper, he would watch her delight in trying new and exotic foods.
His fingers curled, biting into his knees as Cage tried to dismiss his thoughts. Caroline Langdon was a job; he reminded himself. He spent time with her because he needed to protect her, not because she fascinated him, and definitely not becauseof her soft skin. He needed to wrap up this job so he could concentrate on picking up the cold trail that would lead him back to Grace.
****
Caroline glanced over at Morgan. His lips were pressed together in a long thin line, and a deep furrow appeared between his eyebrows. Had she said something to upset him? No, he had insisted on accompanying her. She looked forward to visiting Greenhill Gardens. She had heard plenty about its entertainments from others. But alas, like gossip rags, her mother’s view of Greenhill was similarly unfavorable.
At first, she’d been annoyed to see Morgan outside. She still wasn’t convinced of his story about the bootmaker being down the street. The man popped up everywhere she went! But armed with the new information about Devonshire’s bacchanal, she needed someone to help her infiltrate the party. She could not shake Alice’s comment. Who would Mrs. Gwyn get to replace Alice as the virginal sacrifice? No doubt some other innocent young girl. Cage Morgan was just the kind of gentleman to get invited to this kind of thing. Young, unmarried, he already socialized with the jaded bachelors. She had to convince him to help her.
They pulled up at Susie’s sister’s place, and William went to climb up to the fourth floor flat and fetch her. Morgan still sat brooding. For once, she hadn’t a clue what topic to bring up to break the silence. Instead, she studied the busy street. Susie’s sister lived in Lambeth just down the road from the fish market. The street was a mishmash of small shops and taverns. Lots of people hurried along its packed dirt footpaths. Two women gossiped loudly as they passed by, carrying baskets heavy with washing. A small group of sailors entered a tavern through a red-painted door. And several children in neat uniforms followed in a straight row behind a priest in dark vestments.
A cart rolled by, and the smell of fish permeated the air. She lifted a gloved hand to her nose to stifle the overwhelming stench. A handkerchief appeared in front of her. Caroline glanced over to find that a smile had replaced Morgan’s frown.
He winked. “Here, duchess. It’s a terrible smell when they are fresh off the boat.”
“Thank you.” She covered her nose with his handkerchief. It smelled like lemons. How unexpected. Just then, Susie and William returned. Her maid stopped and gaped up at Morgan. Caroline suppressed a chuckle. “This is Lord Wrotham, Susie. We are heading to Greenhill Gardens to have meat pasties.”
Susie climbed into the carriage and sat across from Caroline. “That’s nice, miss. I’m happy you came to fetch me.” She eyed Morgan with a jaundiced eye. Caroline was glad to have the handkerchief still to hide her grin at Susie’s mistrust.
Morgan gave his full effort to be charming as they began the short journey to Greenhill. He told a story about how he had met his favorite street vendor. The man had been a regimental cook with Morgan’s platoon. He praised the man’s ability to make delicious meals from army rations.
