“Thanks, Julie. You’re the best.”
She did not even bother to turn around to see him grin at her like the complete and utter fool he was being. She only pulled on her gloves through the sting of tears in her eyes and called for Agnes, the faithful housekeeper who now also served as her chaperone whenever she left the townhouse.
Just this one time, she would run this errand, so that they might keep the debt collectors from knocking on their door for yet another month.
After that, she would have to find another way to make up for the funds her brother kept leaking. She simply could not rely on Kit to straighten himself up.
At least not within a month.
“Miss, we have arrived.”
Juliana jerked a little, her eyes taking in the establishment before her, then let out an inward groan. A man stood outside, glaring menacingly at anyone who dared breathe in the direction of the door.
No one came in or out. It wasnotreassuring in the very least.
Juliana resisted the urge to tear her hair at the roots. Her brother had sent her to deliver the package to this place, where she could very possibly be assailed and murdered without anyone the wiser. Kit must be so incredibly out of touch to send her—his sister—to deliver an unmarked parcel to a veritable stranger.
“Wait for me here,” she told Agnes.
The maid looked at her with concern. “Miss, it doesn’t look to be the sort of place you ought to be going.”
Of course not. But Kit did not think of that when he sent her, did he?
“Do not fret, Agnes. I shall be fine.” The words were said more to assuage her fears than those of their faithful maid. She managed a smile that she hoped was more confident than what she truly felt. “I am supposed to simply drop this off, after all. It will not take long.”
She slipped out of the carriage with the parcel tucked safely under her arm before Agnes could protest some more, and she lost what little remained of her courage.
She really, really should box Kit’s ears when she returned to the townhouse.
She walked straight up to the door when an arm stretched out before her, and she was pinned with a cold, steely gaze.
“No one is allowed inside.”
Juliana wrinkled her nose, but pasted on a brilliant smile nonetheless. “Oh, no. You must be mistaken, good sir. I ammerely here to deliver a parcel to a Mr. Anderson.”
“There is no gentleman of that name inside.”
“Oh, but you cannot possibly know that!” She was batting her eyes so hard they could have created little whirlwinds.
It was no use—the man remained unmoved. He merely crossed his arms over his chest and glared stonily at her.
Juliana smiled through gritted teeth. “Could you excuse me for a moment?”
The burly guard barely scoffed a reply.
She turned around and went back to the carriage, her fingers digging into the flimsy paper wrapping of the parcel.
Curse Kit and his infernal packages! Could he not at least make these quests a little more straightforward?
“Agnes,” she hissed at the poor maid.
“Miss Hawthorne.” Agnes startled and pressed a hand to her heart. “Is it done?”
Juliana smiled bitterly. She wished it were so easy, but her brother was determined to make her life as difficult as possible—directly or otherwise.
“I am afraid I will need your help, Agnes,” she sighed.
“Oh no, no, no, Miss!” Agnes wailed. “You cannot possibly—”
