But it certainly was warring within him at the moment. She had changed quickly and was no longer wearing her usual day dress but a black legging and shirt set that made her able to blend into shadows and hide in smaller places. Skirts were proper but utterly useless when it came to sniffing around for information. She needed to move unhindered with quick, light steps and hide in dark places so that she could be in, out, and gone without notice.
When she had returned in a large overcoat, his gaze had been curious. When she climbed into the carriage and discarded the coat, his gaze had widened, narrowed, and then skittered away.
“Are you going to talk to me or simply debate your principles over there? I’m assuming you’ve seen a woman far less clothed than I. I’m literally covered from the tips of my toes to the hat on my head.” She sighed.
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “Yes, you’re indeed covered, but your words gave away more than you think.” His expression was amused but soft, as if whatever she had unknowingly given away hadn’t changed his opinion of her.
It was strange to unknowingly give a person ammunition they were disinclined to use against her. Usually, whatever exposed information was used for collateral or ammunition immediately.
“It is of no matter to me what you think you’re observing in my words. This is practical.” She lifted a small shoulder. “And it will make my job infinitely easier.”
“Of that we can agree.” He nodded. “I was honestly curious how you were going to traipse about in gentlemen’s houses unawares with that skirt you were wearing.”
“Sensible and a quick learner. You’re making this far less painful than it could be.” She grinned. “Now, I’ll have them stop at the trees just beyond Grosvenor Street. I’ll make my way into the houses from there.”
“Understood.”
“Once you are entertaining the gentlemen with your dazzling wit and social conversation, I’ll only have fifteen minutes, so be sure to keep them occupied.” She waited for his nod. “Find out where they will be tonight, or any other whereabouts that may possibly give us a clue as to where they might be meeting informants.”
“I think I can handle this, Jaxsen.” He gave a bit of a dry laugh. “Of the two of us, my job is far simpler.”
She grinned. “So you think.”
The coach rolled to stop and Jaxsen made a quick assessment of the landscape and, upon seeing no one, moved into the shadows beside a copse of trees. The Landson house was just beyond, where Emerson would be distracting the lord. She watched the carriage roll toward the house and quickly scanned the street, then moved forward, hiding behind the trees as she made her way to the back of the residence. A lovely ivy crawled up the back of the stone house, adding a lush shield to her as she inched closer to what she presumed was the servants’ entrance. Silently, she waited beside the heavy wooden door, and hearing nothing, opened it slightly, listening intently. She darted inside, left the door slightly ajar for easy escape, and hid behind a small wall that led to the basement stairway, she assumed. She moved on when nothing was heard upon careful listening. Far away, the sound of pots and pans clanging alerted her to the kitchens, and she moved toward the main floor, opening a servants’ door that, upon a swift glance, led to the hall. She had ten things to do in quick succession.
One. She moved from the door to the narrow table in the hall, hiding behind the wide chair beside it.
Two. She listened for voices, and upon hearing Emerson’s, moved in the opposite direction. Gentlemen attended callers in parlors during visiting hours. It was slightly early, but they wouldn’t dare mention that fact.
Three. She silently walked to the door with a dull handle, the brass shine obviously muted by use, and identified it as the study. Listening, she turned the knob and entered without the hindrance of needing to pick the lock. Lucky that.
Four. She scanned the room, sniffed the stale cigar smoke, and winced -- ghastly stuff -- and moved to the desk. She leafed through pages, sorting through them silently.
Five. A discarded coat slung over the edge of a chair in a small sitting area, creating a semicircle around a cold fire grate. She patted down the coat, found a missive, and tucked it into her pocket and froze.
Six. Hearing nothing, she glanced to the grandfather clock beside a wide window and noted the time. She had--
Seven minutes to be back at the carriage.
Eight. She slipped out into the hall, nearly diving behind a bust on a pillar to keep from view of a parlor maid. When she passed, she made her way back down the staircase and out the ajar door.
Nine. She traveled along the ivy, from tree to tree in front of the house, and paused to make sure no one was watching, before …
Ten. She quickly ducked into the carriage silently, not alerting the napping coachman, and withdrew the missive to read.
Colors fade in sunlight. And strong winds fray flags. But courage never fades or frays if one dares but walk through fire.
Jaxsen read the missive once, twice, and then a third time. It was a message in secret -- that was for certain -- but it wasn’t readily discernable.
The carriage tipped as Emerson climbed in and then cursed under his breath while he swiftly moved, apparently so he wouldn’t sit on her lap.
“Pleasant social call?” she asked, handing him the note as the carriage pulled away from the residence.
“Good Lord, I thought I was retrieving you from the trees.” He gave her an accusing glare.
“This was easier.”
He blinked. “Not sure how. But as you wish.” He took the note, read it, frowned, and then re-read it again.
