“I don’t want you to go alone. Not with that woman there.”
“I won’t go inside,” she said. “What can she do to me on a busy street at midday?”
“You realize, people saw you on the balcony, and more will in the street,” William said. “If you go there alone, your reputation will be ruined beyond what even our standing can withstand.”
Madelina shrugged. “I didn’t deserve it anyway.”
William clasped her arm. “You did. You do,” he said, voice quiet.
William knew, she realized. He knew she was a bastard. Like Jasper. “You always maintained Jasper is good. I should have listened to you.”
“Then listen to me now. Let me come with you.”
“Somebody best go somewhere,” Dodger said, peering out a window. “The watch just turned onto the street and they’re coming this way. Probably on account of all the gunshots. I could hear ‘um outside.”
“Let’s go,” Madelina said.
“An upstairs window,” William suggested. “Dodger, you’ll be well?”
Dodger winked. He turned and ran down the hall toward the back of the building.
Madelina watched him go, impressed by the boy’s speed. She turned to the staircase and tried to emulate him, William a step behind.
They took the steps up, then up again to the third floor. Recalling the height of the other buildings, Madelina ran down the hall. As expected, a narrow servants’ stair led up to little rooms under the roof. She ducked into the first one and pushed open a small window. Kicking off her slippers with their smooth, slippery soles, she climbed through. William followed her out.
Climbing and leaping were more difficult in a dress. More than once, she wished she’d abandoned her reputation and commandeered a horse. As it was, they stayed to the back side of rooftops and rarely descended to the street. She had good reason to hope that few people saw her, and none had time to recognize her.
They came to the back side of Jasper’s London home. Madelina scampered up the roof to the peak. Her heart pounded, her breath coming in short gasps. She’d never run so hard in all her life. She could barely hear over the pulse pounding in her ears. She drew in steadying breaths. William came up beside her.
“Do you think they’re already inside?” she asked. The glimpses she’d had of the streets below, and looking down now, showed unusual numbers of travelers. A carriage would crawl through all that.
William shook his head. “We may have beat them.”
As if in confirmation, Jasper’s carriage turned onto the street. Joy shot through her. She made to climb over the peak.
“This way,” William said.
She turned back to find he’d pulled off his mask and was tying the material into a cravat. He reached under his coat. In moments, he pulled free the edges of a gray waistcoat and buttoned them in front. He started down the roof, tugging off and reversing each glove as he went. Madelina followed, bemused. His hat, too, he turned inside out and patted into a nearly normal shape. Pausing at the edge of the rooftop, he unpinned tails from under his coat, letting them fall free. In moments, he would pass casual inspection. The choice of so much black would seem a bit eccentric, but then, the Marquess of Westlock was known for being his own man.
William swung down onto a garden-facing balcony. Madelina followed. They climbed over the edge, dangled from the bottom, and dropped to the soft earth. William dusted off his clothing. Madelina straightened her hair and dress. William offered his arm.
Madelina placed her hand there, wishing she had slippers and gloves. Her split, reddened knuckles belied their appearance of near normalcy, as did her bare feet. They reached the garden gate and entered a small alley between Jasper’s home and the next. At the end of the alley, Jasper’s carriage rolled by, slowing. In silent accord, Madelina and William lengthened their strides to burst from the alley just as the carriage stopped.
Before either footman or the driver could climb down, Jasper sprang from the carriage, expression livid. They headed up the sidewalk to intercept him. He went still, as if sensing them. Slowly, he pivoted. His eyes widened as his gaze met hers. Dimly noted behind him, a footman reached into the carriage to hand Miss White down.
Releasing her brother’s arm, Madelina ran to Jasper. He caught her, held her close, his arms strong about her. She felt every frantic pound of his heart. He buried his face in her hair.
“You’re alive. You’re well,” he said, squeezing tighter. “Thank God.”
“Jasper.” She tipped her head back so she could speak, words tumbling out. “I know you aren’t in league with her. I know you’re a good man. I am a fool. A hundred times over. I should never have refused you.” A sob threatened. “I wish I hadn’t refused you.”
“Jasper,” Miss White’s voice snapped somewhere behind him. “Come away from her.”
Jasper stiffened. “She has a pistol,” he whispered, releasing Madelina. “She’ll shoot you.” Pain infused his tone. He stepped back.
Madelina reached out to him. “Run away with me.”
William drew alongside her, gaze locked on Miss White. “Careful,” he warned, voice low.
