Mrs. McCaskle appeared in the hall. “Here, now, m’lord. Readin’ the lady’s personal correspondence ain’t seemly.”
Blast it, she was right. Appalled at his lack of etiquette, he shoved the card back into the bunch. “Where’s Agnes? She’d better not be here. She’d best be with her mistress.”
Agnes appeared at the top of the stairs. “Did you need me, milord?”
Harlowe was ready to pull out his hair. Instead, he threw up his arms. “No,” he ground out.
McCaskle chuckled. “Calm down, m’lord. Baird has everthin’ under control.”
“Who the devil is—ah, the gardener. Right. Suppose that’s all right then.” But it wasn’t. Maeve was with Dorset and the man was besotted. Whohadsent all these flowers? “I’ll, uh, wait for her in the parlor.”
“You think that’s wise, m’lord?” This came from Mrs. McCaskle, a chastisement. “This be her house. I advise you to return after she does.”
“Damn it.” She was right. Again. Harlowe slammed out of the house and jumped in his carriage, guiding it across the street just out of sight.
Minutes later a huge, bulky man lumbered atop beside him.
“Who the devil are you?”
“Baird, m’lord. They be driving up soon.”
Harlowe looked him over, then grunted. McCaskle was doing an excellent job of filling Maeve’s household with servants who appeared more than capable of keeping her and his future charges safe.
Seconds later, Dorset’s smart, high phaeton rolled in the drive. A conveyance certainly didn’t leave room for a lady’s maid to accompany her lady.
Dorset jumped to the ground and went around to assist Maeve down, leaving Harlowe gnashing his teeth. They stood in the drive a moment, neither making a move towards the portico. Finally, Maeve strolled over and waved until Dorset drove off. The door opened behind her and McCaskle said something. She donned him with an over bright smile and shook her head. McCaskle inclined his own head then disappeared inside.
Maeve took a quick glance about.
Harlowe’s instincts for danger roared through him.
Maeve threw her shoulders back and marched down the street in the direction of Oxford Street. “Hell, she’s going to hail a hack.” He lifted the reins and said to Baird. “I’ve got this. That garden needs work.”
“Ye might need me, m’lord. Ye can’t verra well drive and run after the lady at the same time.”
Dammit. And if she spotted him, his advantage would dissipate like a puff of smoke, just like her body was disappearing into the waiting cab. He tossed the reins to Baird. “I’ll ride inside. Just don’t lose her.”
“Soho Square, if you please.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“There’s an extra crown in it for you, if you drive slowly, sir.”
The cabby gave Maeve a toothless grin without responding.
Good heavens, the traffic on Holles Street was clogged to the gills. That explained his grin. The view out the window was abhorrent at best through the layers of grime. It was getting late in the day and the shops would be closing soon. Still, if Maeve remembered correctly, there was a flower seller on the corner near Trotter’s. If Melinda had been able to escape Mr. Jervis, it stood to reason she would be keeping watch over the area for some sign of Penny.
If only Maeve had brought her own carriage, but she hadn’t dared waiting. She thought she’d never escape Dorset. Dusk was within a half hour of setting when her cab reached Dean St, and Maeve’s heart stopped. The flower seller had closed up and was carting her goods away.
Then she saw it. A young girl scouting the area. She was taller than Penny, looking closer to Irene’s petite size. She banged on the ceiling. “Stop. Stop. Please.”
The hack pulled up and Maeve jumped out.
“Hey, me crown!”
“Wait for me.”
“Damn toffs. That’s wot ye all say.”
