Her employer could not have reacted to this suggestion with more surprise if she’d declared her intention of shooting him in the foot. “Miss Talbot!” he gasped. Before apparently forgetting how voices worked.
Luna faced him again, her expression a mask of grim resolve. “It’s no use protesting. We’ve got to get that flower back, and, of the two of us, I’m the more likely to be able to charm Lord Bruxley should I have the misfortune of bumping into him. Don’t worry! I’m actually quite sneaky when it comes to it.”
A sad memory flashed through her mind of the night she’d stolen out from Tealeaf Cottage, despite all the careful alarm charms Auntie Apolonia had set in place. Hastily, she suppressed that thought and focused on the matter at hand.
“It’s getting darker, too,” she persisted. “Perfect for undercover work! Now crouch down, why don’t you? I’m not all that heavy, I promise. Unless you’d prefer climbing on my shoulders?”
Mr. Grimm gaped at her. In the gathering gloom, Luna could scarcely tell which was wider, his sagging jaw or his white-ringed eyes. “No,” he managed, his voice a little croak. “No, I’ll . . . I’ll . . . Yes.”
As a complete sentence apparently wasn’t forthcoming, he turned to the wall and simply crouched as bade. Luna paused a moment to remove her shoes, figuring she’d have better grip without falling-apart soles. Then, feeling a bit silly, but quite determined, she approached her employer and rested her hands on his shoulders.
He flinched.
“It won’thurt,Mr. Grimm,” she said.
“No, no. It’s just . . . I’m . . . bracing.”
Glad she’d chanced to wear one of her looser skirts today, Luna swung one leg over his shoulder. She leaned over his head to press her palms against the brick wall for support and said, “You’ll have to hold onto me. For balance.”
A moment of hesitation. Then his hand came to rest on her shin. It was ice cold and trembling, though it really wasn’t a chilly evening.
“All right,” Luna said, “here comes the other one!” She swung her second leg over. Now she sat on his shoulders, still leaning forward to stabilize herself against the wall. His other hand gripped close to her ankle. She thought she heard him breathe out something like a prayer. Or a curse.
“See if you can’t straighten up,” she said.
For a moment, she feared he wouldn’t be able to manage it. It isn’t easy, after all, to stand up from a crouch with a fully grown woman on your shoulders, no matter how starved that woman may have been over the last few months. But, after a series of uncertain heartbeats, there came a little wobble. Then, slowly, Mr. Grimm began to rise. Luna’s stomach plunged, and she grabbed hold of his head.
Mr. Grimm uttered a little whimper. “Miss Talbot . . . my hair . . .”
“Oh, sorry!” She slipped her fingers under his chin instead. Very smooth—he took such meticulous care shaving everymorning. And his jaw did have a nice, square feel to it. With a brisk shake of her head, Luna dismissed that thought, only to find herself suddenly flooded with awareness of the fact that Mr. Grimm’s head was between her thighs, and his hands were gripping her legs, and . . . hadn’t she read something rather like this in one of Auntie Arabella’s illicit darning-basket novels?
Concentrating firmly on the branch overhead—and valiantly ignoring the sparking heat in her veins—Luna stretched out one hand. The branch was just out of reach. “Do you think,” she called down, “you could brace yourself enough so I couldstandon your shoulders?”
The only answer she received was a grunt of sound. It might be in pain. But he let go of her right leg and pressed his hand against the wall, fingers spread. She heard him muttering, and this time wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t some sort of sorcerous spell. Possibly for levitation.
Whether via the power of sorcery or simply a better sense of balance than she realized she possessed (maybe Extremely Great Aunt Amelia was right: the circuswasher future), Luna got first one foot then the other onto Mr. Grimm’s shoulders and, still using the wall for support, slowly began to straighten. Now the branch was within easy reach, and she could hook one elbow over the wall. She grabbed hold and heaved, pulling herself up. “Give me a boost!” she shouted below.
Another moment of hesitation, in which she felt the sudden pull of gravity. Then strong hands gripped her stocking-clad feet, pushing from below. She managed to scramble up onto the wall, sparing only a brief thought that, if Mr. Grimm were to look up, he would see absolutelyeverythingunder her skirts. But no, of course, Mr. Grimm was a gentleman. The soul of honor. He wouldn’t look. And she wouldn’t doubt him.
Perched on the wall beside the branch, she peered back down at her employer. He appeared visibly shaken, stretching his neckand shoulders and casting his gaze everywhere but up at her. Even in the fading light of evening, his cheeks were positively scarlet, and his hands shook as he ran them through his rather mussed hair.
“I’m all right, Mr. Grimm!” she called down.
He glanced up briefly then away again. “Ah!” was all he managed.
“I’m going to climb down by the tree now,” she continued. “Will you toss my shoes over for me?”
He didn’t speak, but managed a little two-finger salute.
So Luna addressed herself to the challenge of the tree. She’d spent her childhood years rambling about the Crimble Mountains, and she wasn’t yet so cosmopolitan that she’d forgotten everything she’d learned about tree-climbing. Using her toes to help her grip, she inched out onto the sturdy branch and, holding higher, smaller branches for support, walked her way to the main trunk, right over the holly hedge. Then it was a fairly simple matter of descent, with plenty of large and obliging branches forming a natural ladder. A fancy circular white bench ringed the base of the trunk, for purposes of elegant garden lounging. Luna stepped onto it, then down to the grassy ground, before calling over the wall, “When you’re quite ready, Mr. Grimm! My shoes!”
They flew over the wall a few seconds later, first one, then the other. Luna carefully slipped them back on and was just fetching the houndsnose from her pocket, when Mr. Grimm’s voice sounded from the other side: “Will you be able to get out again, Miss Talbot?”
Luna hadn’t thought of that. But surely she’d be able to scale the tree, climb back over the wall and . . . what? Jump into Mr. Grimm’s waiting arms?
“We’ll figure it out,” she called back with more confidence than she felt. “Let me find that lily now. I’ll be back in two ticks!”
The houndsnose didn’t immediately pick up the scent. But when Luna walked it back toward the driveway, its attention quickened, and that little green leaf-tail flicked to alert. Mr. Grimm appeared on the other side of the gate, staring through the bars, looking harrowed. “I don’t like this, Miss Talbot,” he hissed.
