Entering the stables, her eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness within. The earthy scent of dirt and straw mingled together, tickling her nose. “Excuse me,” she said upon spotting a young man. He was currently mucking out a horse’s stall. “I need a horse saddled as quickly as possible.”
He leaned back, pausing only long enough to formulate his words. “Of course, Your Grace.” He dipped his head, promptly setting to his task.
Louisa tapped her fingers along her arm. Every moment was one more second the duke gained a lead. Luckily, the young man was adept at his job and performed the task in good time.
Louisa mounted the soft gray mare, kicking the horse into a trot down the drive. Perhaps she would be lucky and the duke would have been distracted by some pedestrian on the way to his destination. His mysterious, but hopefully soon to be known, destination.
She turned right at the end of the drive, joining the hustle and bustle of the streets of London. She raised herself in her seat as she gazed among the pedestrians, looking for the duke’s broad frame amongst the other riders. People stared, surely surprised that she rode alone, but she owned her status as duchess and held her shoulders strong. Apparently, she could do as she wished, and that was exactly what she planned to do. The duke had seemed out of sorts, and then raced off to goodness knows where. And if he was with someone else—well. That was where she drew the line. This mystery ended today.
Her eyes caught on a familiar blue tailcoat and she redirected her course to follow, allowing enough distance between them to keep her presence hidden. As she continued following, pausing when she felt they became too close, the clientele of the establishments slowly began to change. No longer were they among the elite, buying extravagant gowns and gloves and such, but more the working class. Still a respectable area, but she definitely stood out amongst them. As did the duke.
He did not hesitate, however, upon reaching a square, nondescript, brick building. After tying his mount up, he strode inside.
Now what was she to do? She could not very well traipse in after him and ask what he was about, but curiosity burned within her. Perhaps she could find a way to see inside without alerting anyone to her presence.
She rode to the side of the building, jumping down from her mount. Her eyes searched the wide alley, looking for a place to tie up the reins, but nothing stood out as a good choice. Boxes littered the alleyway, but she did not think the reins would allow for such a wide girth. She turned about and soon settled for a fencepost opposite the brick wall. She looped the strap around the picket, sending a prayer heavenward that the horse would not get spooked and run off without her. But now what was she to do? She studied the wall, and a small window up toward the roofline called to her. But it was much too high off the ground for her to see into without a boost.
Then her eyes trailed back to the boxes.
No. That was nonsense. She could do no such thing. Yet, even as her thoughts rebelled, her hands began taking the wooden structures, dragging and stacking them one on top of the other below the square window. She could only manage three, and hoped it would be high enough as she climbed upon the first box. She left enough of a gap around the edge to gain a foothold, gripping the next to keep her steady.
“You can do this.” The box she held shifted toward her, causing her to emit a small yelp. She leaned forward, balancing her weight to keep her footing. “What a wonderful idea, Louisa. What shall we do next? Go swimming in the Thames? Try to release a tiger from the royal menagerie?” Once she felt steady, she reached up to the third box while putting her foot on the edge of the second, hoisting herself up. She grunted as her leg pushed her up the structure, and she looked down at the ground. Was it really so far away? She was only perhaps four feet in the air, but she had one box left to climb. She could not back down. Not now. Not when she knew the duke was inside and this was the place he likely slunk off to during all hours. Strengthening her resolve, she bit her lip, grabbing the last box and pulling herself up until she knelt on the very top.
But now there was a problem. There was no box above her to hold on to. She eyed the window, set back into the brick, leaving a nice little edge for her to grasp. Her legs wobbled and she let out yet another embarrassing shriek as her hands found purchase on the rough brick. She was about to scold herself again when she peered through the window.
Was she imagining things?
The room was sparsely furnished with a few chairs about the edges. But in the center there was a white square taped onto the floor, and from the ceiling hung a series of large, cylindrical bags. And there was the duke, stripped down to his shirtsleeves and pounding his fists into one.
Her mouth fell.
Pugilism. Her husband had been leaving at all hours of the day to . . . to box?
She leaned forward, her breath fogging the glass. The man within that room was not the proper, stoic, silent duke—nor was he the gentle, thoughtful man she had encountered last night. This was apparently one more side of the same man. His eyes were singularly focused, jabbing his fists in rhythmic thrusts as his feet performed some sort of dance, jumping to one side before cutting his fist up into the bag once more.
What on earth?She could not look away. Though she had not known what to expect when she followed him here, this certainly had not even been moderately close to any of her imaginations.
Why was he here? Why not hire a private tutor and simply exercise at home? The questions pelted her mind as she watched him do his little dance about the sand-filled bag.
This was not good for her growing attraction to the man, which was piqued last night and now only intensified. But now that she was assured he was not with another woman, she could say her curiosity was appeased and head to visit Violet as shehad originally claimed she was going to do. At least, that’s what sheshoulddo before she was discovered.
“Hello there?” a low voice called from the ground below.
She yipped, her startled state propelling her forward into the small window to flee from the voice. Why did bodies do such things? It had not been a voluntary decision to press herself against the glass, yet here she was, pushing herself away in hopes the duke was blind or possibly deaf and had not noticed an insane young woman smashing herself against the window six feet off the ground.
Pressing her hands against the brick, she sat back, but when she looked down, the duke’s deep blue eyes seared her in place, shock written all over his features. Eyes wide, mouth agape, hands held into tight fists. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, but was likely only five seconds.
Louisa tore her eyes away, beginning her descent down the boxes, stupidly forgetting the very reason she had been found out in the first place. Once her feet found purchase on the ground and she spun around, she found herself face to face with a scraggly man sporting unkempt hair and ill-fitting clothing, his breath reeking of alcohol.
She let out a small yelp for the fourth time that afternoon. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, her head rearing back as she put a hand to her chest. But as she went to step toward her horse, the man slid in front of her, blocking her path.
She needed to get out of here before the duke found her. She could lie and say she had not been the crazy woman on a stack of boxes outside the boxing establishment. The window was rather small. Perhaps he could be swayed to think it had been someone else entirely.
Yes. That was the plan. If only the man in front of her would move.
“Excuse me,” she said again, enunciating her words.
He grinned, not moving. “Now, why would I do that? I can’t leave a pretty face out here to fend for herself, can I?”
