appeared casual even as he kept a careful watch on his surroundings. “All I ask is to be given an opportunity to prove his innocence.”
“I will ensure there are enough delays and complications to give you time. But it cannot last forever.”
It was as much as Philippe could hope for. “I understand and I thank you.”
“One more thing, Gautier.”
“Yes?”
“You asked for any rumors concerning a Frenchman who revealed an interest in your family.”
“You have something for me?”
“There have been rumors from the Cock and Bull down near the dock that such a Frenchie was overheard boasting that an ancient Egyptian curse was about to be unleashed upon those who dared to betray him.”
Philippe clenched his hands at his sides. Meu Deus. It had to be the man. If he could get his hands upon him…
“Is he still there now?”
“Highly doubtful, but you might wish to visit the taproom and discover if there is anything more to learn.” The window began to rise, indicating the end of the meeting before it paused. “Gautier, don’t go alone. The patrons of the Cock and Bull are not the finest of our London natives. They’ll slit your throat for a farthing.”
“I will take care,” Philippe promised, his icy determination edging his voice.
“Good. Our friend has not forgotten the services you have done for him.”
“Nor have I.”
The man gave a soft laugh before the window closed and the carriage began driving away.
RAINE SQUEEZED HER EYES closed as Philippe left the room wearing nothing more than a wicked smile. Not that it helped matters. She did not doubt that every hard line and angle of his body was irrevocably branded into her memory.
She listened as the door closed and then heard the unmistakable sound of a chair being scooted and wedged beneath the knob.
Just for a moment she considered pulling the blanket over her head and returning to sleep. Obviously she was trapped in the room and nothing could be gained from pacing the floor and cursing the man who held her captive.
In the end, however, she forced herself to leave the dubious warmth of the bed and dressed herself in her borrowed jacket and breeches.
If she remained in bed she did not doubt her dreams would be plagued by Philippe. The few minutes of rest that she did manage to snatch had included vivid memories of the annoying man and the skillful way he had coaxed her body to a fever pitch.
Not that such dreams were entirely bad, she had to concede. She did not regret the night of passion nearly so much as she should. In truth, she found it difficult to dredge up any regret. Her introduction to passion had been…glorious.
His touch had been so tender, so utterly devoted to giving her the greatest pleasure. She doubted that many other women could boast finding such delight when losing their virginity.
But that did not mean she intended to give in to Philippe’s casual assumption that she become his mistress.
Good Lord, she would never place herself at the whim of any man. Let alone a man with Philippe’s arrogance. No matter how much she might ache for his touch, he would be utterly impossible to live with.
At least for a woman of her temperament.
Besides, she had not lied when she said she was desperate to return to her father. By now Josiah would be frantic with worry. Perhaps frantic enough to do something entirely foolish.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned to push the narrow bed against the far wall. Once it was in place she stepped onto the mattress until she could see out of the narrow window.
Below her there was nothing more than the kitchen garden and a low wall that marked the alley. Nothing that offered any hope.
Not until she glimpsed a young man strolling down the alley attired in rough clothing. No doubt one of the endless flood of poor lads who were hired to clean cisterns or deliver coal or haul away rubbish.
Fumbling with the lock, Raine managed to push open the window far enough to stick her head through.
“You. You there,” she called loud enough to capture the man’s attention. “Stop.”
Grudgingly slowing his pace, the man turned his head toward the house. “What yer want?” He stumbled to a halt as he caught sight of Raine leaning from the window. “Blimey.”
Raine was not at all above using her effect on the opposite sex for her own purpose. Why not? It was not as if she had an overabundance of options at the moment.
“Please come closer. I need your help.”
“Me?” The lean face was coated in dust, but there was no mistaking the sudden wariness. “Oh, ay. This is some sort of swindle. You lure me close and then conk me over the noggin. Well, I ain’t no pigeon.”
“No, please. I assure you that there is no trick.”
“Then wot yer doing up there?”
Raine swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh. The poor man would never believe her if she told him the truth.
“Do you know who owns this house?” she instead hedged.
“’Course I do.” The man removed his battered hat to scratch at his head. Raine hid a grimace at the sight of his matted brown hair. “Some toff by the name of Gautier. A foreign gent who ain’t have no wife or sisters. So wot you doing there?”
Philippe Gautier.
Yes. It somehow suited him.
She swiftly searched her mind for some feasible lie. Something that would convince the man to risk entering the house to rescue her.
“I arrived with Monsieur Gautier last evening, but I fear I have made a dreadful mistake. I wish to return to my father, but…”
She deliberately allowed her words to trail away with a dismal sniff.
The man instinctively moved to the wall. “But wot?”
“I have been locked in. I need you to sneak into the house and remove the chair that is blocking the door.”
“Nay. I ain’t in no hurry to have some gent put a lead ball through me heart.”
“Monsieur Gautier is not here, nor does he intend to return for hours. You will be perfectly safe.” The man continued to regard her with suspicion. Raine gritted her teeth. “And I promise to reward you for your efforts.”
At the promise of a reward the man crawled over the wall to stand directly beneath the window. “Let me see, then.”
“See?”
“Are
