She started for the front steps but then thought differently. Matt would stop her if he could. The other servants owed their loyalty to him, not her. She could find herself locked in a closet.
Instead, she practically hurried down the back stairs. On the ground floor, she cracked open the stairway door and had a moment of confusion as she wondered which way to go next, toward the front door or out the back—then she heard Matt’s deep voice in the foyer. He was still here.
There was a sound of a chair being pushed back in the breakfast room to Willa’s right. She stepped back just in time to avoid being seen by the dowager as she exited the room. Minerva called to Matt as if just seeing him leave.
“Where are you off to?” his grandmother asked.
He answered something noncommittal. His words didn’t carry the way the dowager’s did, but Willa could tell by his voice that he was impatient to go,andthat he didn’t want anyone to know what he was about.
With the duchess down the hall, Willa slid out the door and quietly moved to the rear of the house and out the very door Ross and Donel had carried her through only hours before. She moved to the front of the house, ducking behind a low wall when she saw Matt striding down the street.
Willa made up for her shorter legs with determination. She reached the street and started following Matt. He was on a mission. He walked to the end of the block to where there was more passing traffic.
She caught sight of what she should have noticed earlier. One of the footmen had been sent ahead of Matt and had hailed a hack. If she didn’t hurry, he’d leave without her, and she was not going to let that happen.
“Toomey Street,” Matt told the hack driver.
The man raised his brows as if to say that nothing good went on at Toomey Street. Matt could agree with him. However, once he handed the man coin, the driver was ready to go.
Matt climbed in. To reach their destination, the driver needed to travel in the opposite direction. He started to turn the corner but several young maids with shopping packages crossed the street in front of them. Matt settled back, annoyed at the delay—
The hack’s door opened, and a petite woman climbed in and plopped herself right next to Matt. She had to lean out to the close the door.
“All right,” Willa said. “I’m ready to go.”
As if on command, the hack started on its way before Matt prodded himself to say, “You are not going.” He leaned toward the window, ready to demand that the driver pull over, but Willa tugged him back.
“No, Matt, I am going. You can take me back to the house, but I will find another way to reach the Blue Boar.”
“Willa, it is no place for a gentlewoman.”
“I know. There is a murderer under its roof.”
“Exactly. I can’t let you risk your life.”
She frowned as if he spoke gibberish. “I can’t let you riskyourlife. I’m trying to protect you.”
“Willa—”
“Matt.” Her voice overrode his. She was petite and ferocious. “I will not let you do this alone. I know it is dangerous. So was being bound and gagged and thrown in a river, but we managed—together—to escape. You need me, do you understand? And I need you. If something happens to you, well, I would never forgive myself. You can appreciate that, can’t you? Would you let me go alone?”
“I don’t want you to go at all—”
“I wonder if Kate would agree? Or Alice or Jenny or Amanda? Would you be so cruel as to leave me to face their wrath if they heard that I wasn’t by your side when Hardesty did his worst?”
He started to protest again, and then realized it was useless. She perched on the seat beside him, her expressive eyes afire with sheer grit. She would find a way to follow him, a way that might be more dangerous than just accompanying him into the hellhole.
Besides, it was morning. The Blue Boar was a devil’s stew in the darkness of night, but he doubted the rakes and thieves who were its usual custom were up and out this early.
And then he noticed a change about her. “What did you do to your hair?”
“Do you not like it?” she asked, giving her head a happy shake. “I believe it the best thing ever.”
It was. Then again, his chipper, pushy, startlingly devoted wife could have shaved her head bald and he would have thought it the best thing ever. The curls actually made her appear to have more energy.
“Come here,” he ordered. He touched her hair. It was soft and shining. How had he believed he’d ever loved Letty? She was a great beauty. But she lacked Willa’s charm, her intelligence, her loyalty. With Willa, he was more himself. The light illuminating her was an inner one.
Willa took his arm and put it around her shoulders. She stifled a yawn. “Besides,” she said, “you will keep me safe.”
