The new garment was not her only precaution. She had left a note by Tess’s bedside, assuring her that Kate had gone after Lord Brenton and asking her not to raise an alarm unless she had not returned by morning.
She pulled her cloak tighter as a brisk wind whistled through the yard, scattering leaves in its wake. The gust was sharp with the taste of salt and ship tar carried up from the harbor, and she shivered as the chill found every gap in the fabric.
As her legs went numb and she questioned the wisdom of her hiding place, the hinges on the servants’ door protested in the dark silence. A lone figure slipped out. The man scanned the yard before crossing it, keeping his back against the stone wall. The moonlight did her a favor, confirming his identity. James.
He carried a small unlit lantern and disappeared around the corner into the street. Kate darted out from behind the barrels, careful to keep her footsteps light as she followed after him. He was walking in the same direction they had taken that morning, the streetlamps reflecting on the shuttered buildings and darkened shop windows.
Kate kept a hurried pace to keep up with his long strides, but the damp cobblestones were slick and each step threatened to echo. James walked with purpose, choosing the darker side of the street without hesitation. It was difficult to see him clearly from where she followed, but she said a prayer of thanks for the quiet streets that made it easier, even if they left her with little cover. Only a few souls wandered about at this hour, either too drunk or too absorbed in their own business to pay her any mind.
James turned a corner, taking a direction she did not recognize. She hurried forward, but her foot slipped on the wet stones. A small gasp escaped before she righted herself. She reached the corner where he had disappeared. Her stomach dropped when she found only shadows. But he could not have gone far. Scanning side streets and doorways for the tall, dark figure, she moved forward as the eerie silence of the lane pressed in on her. The only movement was a light mist drifting between the narrow buildings.
A hand clamped over her mouth as a strong arm circled her waist and dragged her into a dark alleyway. Panic rose, but his grip stifled her scream. She threw her elbow back, drawing a low grunt from her attacker. She brought her heel down on hisfoot with as much force as she could manage and twisted against his hold. His grip loosened, and she drew back, ready to land another blow, but a deep, familiar voice murmured in her ear, “Kate, it’s me. Be still. Men are just around the corner.”
Her panic eased, and she forced herself not to move. Footsteps and laughter echoed off the walls. Kate resisted the urge to lean back against James while they waited for the men to move away. Once the voices faded into the night, she twisted and he released her at once. She straightened her cloak and turned to face him. James leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He glanced toward the mouth of the alley and rubbed the side of his torso before regarding her with an intensity that made her feel uncomfortably exposed.
“Would you care to explain what you are doing?” he asked.
“I should think it rather obvious, Lord Brenton.”
“I thought we had decided that you would stay at the inn.”
“Ah, well, then you would be mistaken. I decided no such thing.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Blast, Kate, can’t you see that I am only trying to protect you? Every time I turn around, you are walking toward danger as though it were a garden path.”
“I wanted a partnership, remember?” Her throat constricted. “But you refused. Do you truly think me so incapable?”
James went still, his frustration faltering. A rare uncertainty softened his expression, as though the accusation had struck somewhere he had not expected. “I have never doubted your intelligence or your courage. They are precisely why you keep finding your way into these situations.”
“Then why do you insist on shutting me out completely?”
His jaw tightened, and something like agony crossed his face. “Because every step you take toward this affair places you in greater danger.”
“And you believe that gives you the right to make decisions for me?”
“I believe it gives me the right to keep you alive.”
“At the cost of my choice? I am not a piece you can move across a board as you see fit.”
Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. She refused to yield, and for once, James seemed to accept it.
James let out a weary sigh, the mist clinging to his hair. “If we do this,” he said, his voice dropping, “you must promise me something.”
“That depends on what it is.”
“Kate,” he said, his patience fraying.
“Very well. What do you need me to promise?”
“I need your word, Kate. No—I need your vow. You stay by my side. You follow my lead. No improvising.”
She could abide by that. “Agreed.”
“I also need you to promise that if anything should happen to me, you will return to the inn by whatever means necessary and leave Dover as quickly as possible. Do not tarry.”
The sternness in his expression left her breathless, then vanished, giving way to something far less certain.
“Promise me you will save yourself, even if it means leaving me behind.”
