Page 19 of Give Him a Chance

Chapter Four

May 4, 1841

It wasn’t theescaping that was difficult. It was climbing through the window that had stumped him.

Bernard Dixon was a false name, to be sure, he ruminated bitterly, but the fact was that he had gained a great deal by utilizing a false name in the past. It had taught him a number of skills and allowed him to come into contact with many others who had taught him similarly interesting skills.

Like climbing down a drainpipe, for example. It was harder than it looked.

Bernard halted halfway down and tried to wipe his brow with a handkerchief. Then he remembered he didn’thavea handkerchief. Then he remembered he was fifteen feet up in the air and pausing to remove one hand from the metal bar that was currently propping him up in said air probably wasn’t a good idea.

Good idea. Oh, he’d been full of good ideas last night. Part of him had wanted to stay, to see whether this Lady Lucy Chance would really stick out having what she believed was a convict living in her house.

Her family certainly did not approve, and in a way, that was a comfort to him. Bernard could think of few families who would wish to adopt a criminal, and thank goodness Lucy—Lady Lucy, of course—had some reasonable people around her.

Hopefully, they could prevent her from any more nonsense.

Slowly shimmying down the last few feet of drainpipe, Bernard took a deep lungful of early morning air as he reached the bottom. It was a beautiful, and small, garden. Someone had clearly taken great pains with it until recently, but it had become overgrown with the sudden coming of spring. The weeds were starting to push through in the beds, and there was a rose that desperately needed tying back—though the wheelbarrow near the bed suggested someone would be coming soon to hack it back.

Well, he couldn’t worry about that now. He had escaped the house, that was the important thing, and without a single member of this Chance family knowing. All he had to do now was—

“You know, there is an almighty clanging in my bedchamber whenever someone enters or exits the house via drainpipe,” came a conversational voice from a bush to his left. “An almighty one.”

Bernard whirled around, his instincts rushing him to pull out a knife he kept strapped to his ankle to defend himself with.

A figure stepped out from behind the bush. A fine figure, one in a day gown of soft green that perfectly highlighted her eyes.

Lady Lucy Chance.

Bernard swiftly stuffed away the knife and tried to look charming.

Which was a challenge because it was hard to look charming after thrusting a knife in a person’s direction.

“What on earth are you doing?” Lady Lucy asked, curiosity welling in her eyes.

That was an excellent question, and Bernard could think of no way to answer it save with a question of his own. “How on earth did you know about the drainpipe?”

“That? Oh, we’ve been creeping in and out of the house via that drainpipe for years. Decades, I suppose,” said Lady Lucy nonchalantly, as though daughters of earls were frequently familiar with casual housebreaking. “It was Frank who first managed it, and she taught us. She’s always said—”

“‘She’?” interjected Bernard, almost certain he had misheard.

What was it with this family? They appeared to be entirely respectable on the surface, but there’d been a large dog that had bounded up to him yesterday that had been described as ‘Polly, the dragon,’ and a letter had arrived suggesting that a recent addition to the family had almost been called ‘Emperor Chance.’

“Yes, she,” Lady Lucy said, frowning, as though he had been the one to utter the oddity. “What are you doing, Dixon?”

Bernard swallowed.

This was the trouble with being a spy; one could hardly go about admitting to such a thing to anyone who asked.

Besides, he wasn’t that certain what he was supposed to do next. Hovell had not been in touch, but the man couldn’t be in touch if he didn’t know where Bernard was. In truth,Bernardwasn’t quite certain where he was.

Not ideal, for a spy.

And now he was faced with a beauty who asked questions she expected to be answered, and he’d had absolutely no preparation, no instructions from his handler.

And Bernard lived by preparation.

So. He couldn’t lie. It would have to be the truth. “I’m leaving,” he said brightly.