He tore out of the study, taking the stairs two at a time.
Lorelei settled against the plush seat of the Kimpton coach. Bethie scowled at her from across, arms folded beneath her massive bosom. Lorelei plucked off a piece of imaginary lint to avoid her disapproving gaze.
“’Tis madness, I tell ye.”
“Bethie, please, I refuse to discuss the matter further,” she said firmly. Of course, instructing Bethie had never deterred her before and wouldn’t now.
“I never heard the like. Ye’er s’posed to attend Peachornsbys’.”
“And I will. I’m just making a slight detour. You’ll take the carriage home once Andrews lets me off.”
Bethie’s scowl deepened. The effect reminded Lorelei of one of those odd pug-nosed dogs she’d seen Lady Dankworth tugging through Hyde Park of late.
If Lorelei hadn’t been so frightened of what she might learn on this underhanded mission she was on, she might have laughed. But she was frightened. So many things frightened her: the loss of her reputation, if someone happened upon her plans; her husband’s reaction, if he caught her; and most importantly, learning he truly still held the woman’s affections.
Lorelei glanced out the window. The Peachornsby home was just ahead. Steel in her spine, she turned to Bethie with a stern question. “You understand what you are to do?”
“Aye, but I don’t like it.”
“I didn’t ask you if you liked it.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll flag down a hackney,” she huffed. “It’s just not seemly for my lady to be a-ridin’ in such a common way.”
Her maid was a snob! Lorelei bit back a small grin. “Be that as it may, I have my reasons.” She fastened her cloak clear up to her neck, veiling her bronze skirts, and tapped the roof. “Andrews,” she called. “We shall walk from here.” The carriage slowed to a stop.
She alighted before Bethie, no doubt further shocking her military-maid’s delicate sensibilities with the lack of natural ordered precedence. “Go,” she whispered.
Bethie marched down the street like the general Lorelei could depend upon. An earsplitting whistle pierced the air, and she flinched. Seconds later, a badly sprung cab pulled over. Bethie gave the driver their direction in low tones. Lorelei picked up her step.
One whiff of the stench inside and Lorelei whipped through her reticule for her lavender-scented handkerchief.
Lorelei ignored Bethie’s mocking smirk. “You did tell him to drop us two blocks—”
Bethie expelled an exasperated sigh. “My lady,” she said, indignant. “I cannot have you bein’ seen in the vicinity of that harlot’s abode. I gots my own reputation to see to.”
“Bethie, you will mind your place when you speak to me,” Lorelei informed her primly. “Icansack you, you know.”
Bethie shook her head at the fate she appeared resigned to. “Won’t matter none, iffn’ we’re caught. His lordship will see to the sackin’ himself.” But then Bethie straightened her large militant form, her lips forming a firm line.
Relief flooded Lorelei. Ever faithful, Bethie would never fail her. The hackney took several turns that carried over some twenty or thirty minutes. Lorelei was concerned. “Does the driver know where he’s going? I didn’t think it was this far.”
“I had him take us in a roundabout manner, so no one’s to recognize ye,” Bethie returned. “Iffen’ we’re gonna’ do this, then we might as well get it done right-like.” She glanced out the window. “We’re close,” she said softly. “You stick by me, my lady.” The carriage rolled to a slow stop.
Anxiety crawled over Lorelei’s skin like a rash. “Can you see her door from here?”
“Aye, just barely. What is it yer lookin’ for?” Bethie’s eagle-eyed glance never wavered from the window.
Lorelei let out a small cough. “Er… well—”
“Weel, weel, what do ye know?” Bethie’s eyes narrowed on something beyond Lorelei’s vision.
“What is it?” Lorelei leaned closer, her nose touching the glass.
“There.” She pointed, but Lorelei could make out nothing. Darkness was falling quickly.
“It’s his lordship, hurrying like the Watch was after ’im.”
Lorelei’s stomach lurched.
