Declan was still smiling when, scanning the crowd, he caught a glimpse of dirty-blonde hair and a dove-gray hat some five yards ahead. The smile froze on his lips. He pulled Helena to the side and looked again.
Damn!He’d not imagined it.
“Bloody, bleeding hell,” he gritted out, ducking down. He dropped her hand and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her inside a basket tent.
Helena yelped, scrambling to stay upright. “What are you d—”
“Lusk,” Declan whispered. “He’s here. Two stalls down. Quiet, quiet, quiet.” He held a finger to his lips, boring his eyes into hers. “We’ve got to move.”
Lusk is here?She mouthed the words.
He nodded. They were at the rear of the tent and he felt around for a gap in the cloth. When he found it, he ducked and stole the two of them through. The alley behind the stalls was webbedwith stakes and rope. Declan picked his way to the end, pulling her by the hand.
He found an opening five yards down and checked the vendor within. A cheesemonger’s stall. He pulled her through and Declan wound them through wheels of cheese and a tethered cow.
At the entrance, he waited, watching the crowd. It was impossible to hop from tent to tent; the rows gave way to the open area of the bonfire. He waited for a boisterous group of musicians to stroll by and fell in with their group. Helena laughed, clapping a hand over her mouth, and hurried to keep up.
“Did the duke see you?” she whispered.
“No.”
“But what was his businesshere?”
“God only knows,” he said. “He had two girls with him.”
Helena thought about this. “Milkmaids?”
“Probably.”
“Did he look... happy?”
“He did not look unhappy.” In truth, he’d looked deliriously happy with two buxom village girls on either side.
“Perhaps I should be interviewing milkmaids,” Helena said. She shook her head. “I could never subject a milkmaid to Lusk.”
Now they’d reached the crackling bonfire. The glowing, hissing stack threw off heat from yards away, and sparks spiraled to the sky. Helena slowed, holding her hands to the warmth, but Declan pulled her along.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He tugged her from onecluster of people to the next, his eyes always behind them.
When the outermost circle of booths came into view, he picked up the pace, turned left, then—
Lusk again.
He stopped dead and she collided with his back.
Heart thudding, Declan tucked Helena carefully behind him and reversed course, moving them again. A stack of barrels was piled on the edge of a row, and Declan ducked behind them, pressing against the rough wood. He peeked around the edge at the footpath. Lusk was steps away.
“Damn,” he hissed, sliding the opposite way. He dropped into a crouch.
What now?Helena mouthed, crouching beside him. Her eyes were bright, cheeks were flushed. She looked excited and hopeful and startlingly beautiful.
Declan forced himself to focus. “The fastest route to the horses is through a side field with very few people,” he whispered. “We can move quickly, but I’m worried about my livery. It was foolish to embark on the market without covering the yellow. I stand out like a torch in the dark. Even if I make the entire jaunt by hopping booth to booth, I must blend in.”
He looked around. An adjacent stall was decorated with fluttering strips of fabric, jangling metal trinkets, and bead garland. Rusted farm tools, antique furniture, and an Jacobean gown on a form flanked the opening. Colorful fishing buoys were tangled in a heap on the ground.Empty wine bottles had been embedded into the ground to form a walkway. An old sign read “Mr. Godfrey’s Treasure Trove. Fripperies, Baubles, Oddities, and Relics.”
He looked at Helena, brows raised, and inclined his head.There?
Helena nodded.
