“I should like to keep Miss Lindquist in my care a bit longer, not because I believe her to be party to what is happening in London, but because I find myself…” He paused, unsure of how to phrase the feelings that had erupted the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
“Besotted?”
He snorted. “Indeed. I suppose that is a good a word as any.”
“Then perhaps you should start by telling her the truth.”
Harlan frowned. “And if I am wrong about her involvement? The last thing I want to do is put any of you in danger because of my current inability to look the other way when confronted with a pretty face.”
“How the lady looks does not always matter,” Lucas countered. “If you are hesitating, then I should say they are feelings worth exploring further, but I would confess everything to her and see if she might feel the same. That is the best way to determine your next course of action. If she is disinclined to remain, then I feel you will have your answer. It ultimately has to be her choice. Not yours.”
Harlan blew out a heavy breath. “I knew you would be the one to make sense of the matter.”
Lucas smiled and pushed his spectacles up his nose. “No man is prepared to have his heart put in jeopardy, but the right woman can make it easier to bear. You just have to decide if she is worth it.”
Harlan inclined his head. “Thank you, Lucas. I will consider your council.”
Feeling a lightness in his step as he left Lucas’s cottage, Harlan was on his way back to the cottage when he heard the sound of thundering hooves behind him. He turned to see Hugh coming upon him at a fast clip.
Harlan tensed as he waited for him to come abreast. As he pulled back on the reins of his mount, Hugh looked at him with concern lining his features. “What is it?” Harlan demanded.
“Not here.” Hugh glanced around, which caused Harlan to do the same. “I was coming to speak to you in private. Go to the windmill.”
Harlan nodded sharply and continued walking while Hugh went on ahead.
Shoving a hand through his hair, Harlan wondered if his life would ever get easier. On the heels of that thought, he pictured Leah, sleeping so peacefully in his bed, and he had to consider if it would be fair to draw her into this world of deceit and secrecy. Or whether he should spare her the anguish it would surely bring.
Chapter 7
As her eyes fluttered open to the late afternoon sun streaming through her window, Leah sat up with a yawn. She generally wasn’t in the habit of taking a nap, but with little else to do, the weariness had swept over her quite naturally.
She got to her feet and brushed out the wrinkles in her gown the best that she could. At this point, she was starting to despair that she might ever look truly presentable again. But then, it wasn’t as if she had anyone that she needed to impress. If she did manage to make it to Birmingham to meet her brother, she would decide what to do then, but for the moment, she just had to make it through to the next day. While she didn’t feel threatened by Harlan and his band of miscreants, neither was she allowing herself to let down her guard.
She headed for the desk to retrieve the letter she’d written to her brother, but hesitated when she saw that it was missing. With a frown, she checked around the floor to make sure it hadn’t fallen, but when there was nothing, she set her hands on her hips. If it hadn’t disappeared by accident, then the only explanation was that it was taken. On purpose.
Infuriated, she stalked over to the door and marched down the hallway, intent on finding Harlan and demanding an explanation. However, she stopped short when she spied a well-dressed, light-haired man sitting in the parlor with a book in his hands. He wore no mask, but instead, a pair of glasses were perched upon his face.
When he glanced up and spied her, he offered a casual smile and put a place card in his book before he set it aside. “Good day, Miss Lindquist.”
She blinked, momentarily confused by his appearance. If there was anyone that she might have considered a dandy, it was this individual. “Who are you?”
He cleared his throat as he rose and offered a respectful bow. “Forgive me. My name is Lucas Appleton. I daresay you probably don’t recognize me without my mask.”
She blinked again. “How is it that you can discard your mask without the same care in safeguarding your identity?”
“I find it terribly cumbersome,” he noted evenly, and she wasn’t sure if he meant it in truth or jest. He waved a hand. “Won’t you sit?”
She did, but not without glancing around first. “Where is Harlan?”
“He is preparing for a new exploit this evening.”
“Is he?” She gritted her teeth. How convenient. “I was hoping to speak with him about a personal matter, but I suppose it shall have to wait.”
Keeping his face a perfect mask of indifference, he asked, “Would you be referring to the letter you wrote to your brother?”
“Ah.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “I can see that he has confided in you. Pray tell, what did he say?”
“That he intended to see that it reached Mr. Lindquist in a timely fashion.”
