“My entire life has been playing the role of an elegant but guileless Society miss.” Charlotte kept her voice steady despite the trembling in her extremities.
Something flashed in Hannah’s eyes, but Charlotte had no wherewithal to identify the emotion. Her cousin glanced away andrapped sharply on the ceiling of the coach. The vehicle turned into a dark alley opposite from where the dragoons were congregating. As soon as the conveyance rolled to a shuddering stop, the women quickly debarked.
“Do you have a believable story concocted?” Sophia asked softly as they marched toward the clomp of horses and shouts of the dragoons. “This is not the usual haunt of a lady.”
“Hence the distress,” Charlotte replied with a coolness she did not feel. She had a plan, but she could only pray it would not collapse under scrutiny.
“Perhaps we should discuss it more,” Hannah said nervously as she slacked her pace.
Charlotte did not slow down. “There is no time. If you are afraid that I will make a muck of things, you are welcome to stay behind. There is no need for us all to risk being accused of assisting a fugitive.”
Neither Hannah nor Sophia answered Charlotte verbally. They just flanked her.
Charlotte drew strength from their silent support as the three of them strode from the darkness. They entered the street where the dragoons seemed to have set up a command from which to search the alleyways to the south. One man shouted most of the instructions.
Charlotte hurried in his direction, pretending not to notice the milling horses and uniformed men. A few gave her startled looks, but because she was not their quarry, they otherwise paid her little heed. When she was within earshot of the commanding officer, she cried out in her most dramatic voice, “We are saved! Oh, good sir, I cannot tell you how relieved I am to discover an upstanding gentleman in this dreadful area of London!”
The captain turned his steed in Charlotte’s direction. At the sight of her finely made gown, his mouth drooped in astonishment.He recovered quickly, but Charlotte knew she had unsettled him. Good. She needed his thoughts scattered.
“I have been betrayed!” Charlotte cried theatrically. The pitch of her voice drew the attention of the nearest soldiers. Even more importantly, with their leader’s attention diverted, the clockwork motions of the search had become disrupted. Charlotte thought she might be overdoing her feigned alarm, but her plan was succeeding… for now.
“Pardon me, madame, but this scarcely seems the place for you and your companions.” The captain’s deep voice rumbled with irritation. Clearly, he did not appreciate an unknown woman—even a well-spoken one—blundering into his carefully orchestrated maneuvers. However, since his posture remain relaxed, he didn’t appear to regard her as a threat.
“How well I know that, good sir.” Charlotte wailed. She practically threw herself at his horse as if to embrace the man’s boot. As she’d intended, the sudden movement caused even the well-trained equine to shy away. The captain, who had loosened his grip on the reins, had difficulty getting his mount under control. One of the hoofs kicked near Charlotte. She theatrically fell to the ground and began to cry in loud sobs.
Both Hannah and Sophia made clucks of distress, but instead of helping her, they literally wrung their hands. With audible sighs, several soldiers dismounted to help Charlotte to her feet. The whole episode felt like a farce, yet the men seemed to accept the women’s weeping as a true display—a bothersome display, but real.
“How solicitous you are!” Charlotte said and then sniffed very loudly. “It is the most kindness I have received in days! You are true gentlemen.”
The dragoons’ buttons nearly popped off their puffed chests as some of their annoyance transformed into pride. Their captain, however, was not so easily placated.
“What is the meaning of this? How have you come to be here?” The man’s tone was sharp, but Charlotte could tell that he was making a feeble effort to soften it.
Charlotte pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and began twisting it in her gloved hands. “It all began with my dear husband’s death. He was a wealthy man, a merchant—Mr. Thomas Smith—certainly you have heard of him?”
Charlotte paused as if she expected a positive response to the innocuous name she had entirely fabricated. The poor captain uttered a helpless, noncommittal grunt. He seemed unsure of how to deal with her, but her profusion of tears had apparently allayed his suspicions.
“His partner tidying up his affairs was acting oddly, and my inheritance was not what my husband told me it would be.” Charlotte worked her delicate handkerchief so fiercely she felt some of the threads rip. The officer’s gaze darted to her fingers, and his frustration visibly melted into pity. Clearly, he thought her overset. She was barely keeping her sharp panic for Matthew at bay, so it wasn’t hard to act emotional.
“I am but a woman with little knowledge of financial affairs. I had no one to turn to as my father is also dead, and I have no brothers. I hoped to accompany my husband’s partner to his office so that I might inquire more from the clerks. When he proposed such a late appointment, I had my suspicions, but there was no choice. I even brought two of my companions for safety.” Charlotte sobbed out the long-winded tale, purposely getting louder and louder. More and more of the soldiers had gathered around, either to hear her story or to try to determine what the devil was going on.
“But then he dumped us here in the streets near the wharves!” Charlotte belted out the last sentence before dissolving into an utter puddle of tears. The captain dismounted with a resignedgrunt. Awkwardly, he thumped, more than patted, Charlotte on the back. She turned and clung to him, blubbering profusely.
“He clearly meant for the cutpurses to do what he could not!” Hannah took up the cry next, her wail utterly piercing.
“Murder us!” Sophia added, her voice a tragic whisper that hung ominously in the air.
“Now, now. You are safe. All three of you.” The captain softened his voice, his tone for small children.
Normally, the patronization would secretly grate, but Charlotte could only feel relief. Her ploy was working! Maybe, just maybe, Matthew could take advantage of the distraction and make his way to Mr. Stewart’s property.
“It’s him—the man who’s been freeing the convicts!” A cry went up, obliterating Charlotte’s nascent hope. “Look! On the rooftops!”
White-hot dismay stabbed Charlotte, ripping through her innards. Everything suddenly moved at a slowed down speed. As if outside her own corporal body, Charlotte watched a shadowy figure leap from rooftop to rooftop. The dragoon captain’s arm brushed hers as he began to raise his flintlock pistol.
She had to stop the slug from hitting Matthew. A shot—even a nonfatal one—would be deadly. It would either cause him to plummet to his death or slow him down enough to be caught and hung.
Even if Charlotte’s mind felt frozen, her instincts were not. Her muscles acted of their own accord. With an airy cry, she thrust her hand up as if she meant to lay it on her forehead. Although a true swoon would result in her crumpling to the ground, Charlotte instead sprang into the air just as the dragoon captain raised his weapon. Her dramatic arcing leap positioned her right in the path of the ball.
