He tugged the hefty file from beneath my hand and returned it to the designated spot in his drawer. “We can dispense with the foolery. What, precisely, do you need my assistance with?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“And I cannot help you if you do not tell me what you need help with.”
“It’s a secret.”
“I’m a solicitor. Confidentiality is essential in my profession.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you.”
He sighed and leaned against the other desk. “Lady Davina, I’ve never once betrayed your confidences.”
“No one would believe you even if you did,” I retorted. His head tipped to the side, a singular brow raised in a strange sort of acknowledgment.
“Still, I won’t help you, not without more information. And I’m not entirely certainIbelieve this is happening. I guarantee no one else would.”
My teeth found my lower lip and gnawed on it in that way Mama always scolded me over. This was why I had formulated the ridiculous kidnapping plot in the first place. But it wasn’t my secret, and thetonwas already too eager for gossip about Xander. And this secret… There was a fate worse than ruin if the wrong person discovered it.
“If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone else who will.”
“Who?” It was a simple question, demand really. And one I hadn’t the slightest answer to, but there was something in his tone that left me flummoxed.
“That is none of your concern.”
“Lady Davina…” The exasperation swirled with plea had me hiding a smile. He was giving in.
“Or, if I cannot find anyone, then I will go myself.”
“Trying to find yourself ruined or killed,” he grumbled. “Fine.”
“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I could not contain my little hop of delight.
He shook his head and pointed at the door. “Come along then. You need to change into something appropriate before you’re arrested for indecency.”
“That is not neces?—”
“I’ll wait outside.”
“I have the carriage situation well in hand.”
“How?” he asked, worry creeping into his tone.
In lieu of a response, I merely caught him by the forearm and dragged him back out beneath the annoying little bell.
Once outside, I waited for him to lock the door before pulling him around the corner where our conveyance was waiting.
Mr. Summers stopped short at the sight before him, jaw hanging slightly open.
“You cannot be serious,” he protested, then stepped toward it with caution.
Three
LONDON—APRIL 10, 1817
KIT
It could barely be calleda carriage.
