Althea shivered, her eyes dark with fear. “But I don’t have this thing they seek.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have them in the hands of the law before they know where they are.”
“I can’t believe that of Lord Churton,” Althea said with a sigh. “I liked him. I’m sure he didn’t lie to me.”
“You liked him but you didn’t know him,” Flynn said. Churton was a spy, and spies did not have a reputation for being honest. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “But he was a friend of mine and I have to admit I find it hard to believe.”
Althea gazed at him. “Then we can’t both be wrong, surely.”
She was smart and instinctive, but naïve, Flynn thought, for she lived in a different world. And please God could he keep her safe.
*
After pointing outto Jet that his place was in his basket, Flynn shivered and settled down under the blanket for another night on the sofa. Without the fire lit, a chilly draft wafted in and touched his face. He wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up with a beard of icicles. His makeshift bed was dashed uncomfortable. He searched fruitlessly for the best position; his choices few, either with his knees under his chin or his feet dangling over the edge. The latter simply provided an invitation for Jet to prod his stockinged foot experimentally with a soft paw.
His mind wouldn’t let go of what he’d learned today. He was alarmed for Althea. Whatever happened tonight, she must return to London tomorrow. Barraclough’s men would watch the house. With a heavy sigh, Flynn sat up again and raked his fingers through his hair. He peered out the window. No rain tonight. The stars burned bright in the inky sky, the moonlight sending the garden into indefinable shapes. He blinked. Was it his imagination, or did something flit across the grass into the deep purple shadows near the barn? He grabbed his pistol. Would they have visitors tonight? He doubted Crowthorne would make a move until the house was empty.
His question was soon answered with three sharp taps on the window. “Bricks here, my lord,” said a man through the glass. “The men are in place.”
Flynn exhaled in relief and opened the window.
The scratch of a tinderbox was followed by the flicker of a feeble rushlight. It highlighted a man’s rugged features.
“How many of you are there?” Flynn asked.
“Four of us in all, placed around the grounds. We’ll be here as long as necessary.”
“Good man, Bricks. All armed?”
“Well armed, my lord.”
“Expect trouble. If not tonight, then soon. You can sleep in the barn during the day. I’ll have food sent out to you.”
“Right you are, my lord.”
“Should you need me, I’ll be here.”
Flynn closed the window. The rushlight extinguished, the man melted back into the dark. Now that he knew the house was watched, Flynn decided to snatch a few hours’ rest. Heaven knew when he would be able to sleep again. He arranged the blanket over his feet, and it slid off his shoulders. Damn it! The cold kept him awake. A vision of Althea snug and warm in the bed upstairs didn’t help. He resisted the temptation.
He wasn’t at all sure he could trust himself. And Althea deserved better, a man who would marry her and give her a good life. The thought gave him pause. When had he begun to question his motives? He’d always got on well with women, but he’d never called any a trusted friend. They’d made demands on him, he’d been happy to provide. His mother leaving him had built an inherent distrust into him from a very early age. Althea was different. She didn’t want anything from him except what he was prepared to offer. He lay back on the sofa. This time, with a deafening purr, Jet chose to ignore his instructions, and after a lot of tedious turning and alarming kneading of claws, the cat stretched out along his legs. Finding the animal pleasantly warm, Flynn closed his eyes.
“Flynn!” He opened his eyes to daylight. Althea leaned over him in her dressing gown, her hair in a braid beneath a lacy cap. “The servants will be up and about any minute.”
He leapt off the sofa, disturbing the cat. Jet stalked away with his tail in the air. “The deuce! If I spend another night on this sofa, I’ll be a cripple.” He straightened painfully. “My back feels like it’s broken in several places.”
“Nonsense. Come upstairs,” she murmured.
He followed her up. “My men arrived during the night. They’re sleeping in the barn today. Can you ask your cook to prepare them a meal? You can tell your servants these men are here to work on the foundation.”
“I will.” She gathered her clothes and stood at the bedchamber door. “Now I must bathe and dress. I have much to do.”
“Mmm,” he muttered, not trusting himself to comment as a vision of her naked in her bath flashed into his mind. He doubted even his imagination could do her justice.
An hour later, after he washed and dressed, Flynn joined Althea in the breakfast room. Her trunk stood at the foot of the stairs. Jet had been confined to a cane basket, his howls of disgust reaching them from the entry hall.
Althea spread butter and marmalade onto toast. “Jet doesn’t like being confined. I’m afraid he’ll make our trip rather unpleasant.”
“Notourtrip, Althea,” he said. “I must remain here. The men need me.”
