prefer to escape out a window at midnight?’ he asked, amused.
‘The balcony worked well enough for you,’ she retorted. ‘It might be wise to anticipate opposition. I should probably go in disguise, so that neither the landlady nor the guards at the corner immediately realise I’ve departed.’
Though by now he shouldn’t be surprised by anything she said, Will found himself raising an eyebrow. ‘Leave in disguise? Interesting education the French give their diplomatic hostesses.’
‘France has been at war for longer than we both have been alive, monsieur,’ she shot back. ‘People from every level of society have learned tricks to survive.’
It appeared she had, at any rate. If being abandoned by her cousin in a foreign capital were any indication, she had needed to.
‘What do you suggest?’
‘That we leave in mid-afternoon, when streets busy with vehicles, vendors and pedestrians will distract the guards and make them less vigilant. You could meet my friend, Clara, at a posting inn not far from these rooms. Bring men’s clothing that she can conceal beneath the embroidery in her basket. She will escort you up, telling the landlady, if you encounter her, that you are her brother. You will then exit by the balcony while I, wearing the clothing you provide, will walk out with Clara.’
Her suggestion was so outrageous, Will was hard put not to laugh. ‘I’ve no problem exiting by way of the balcony, but do you really think you could pass as a man?’
‘I’m tall for a woman. As long as I don’t encounter Frau Gruener, who knows me well, it should work. She almost always takes her rest of an afternoon between two and four, by the way. Those watching at the corner, if they notice us at all, will merely see Clara leaving the building, as she went in, with a man. Once we are away from the watchers, I leave it to you—who did so good a job locating me—to manage the rest.’
Intrigued by madame’s unexpected talent for subterfuge, he had to admit that the plan had merit. ‘It might work. As long as you can walk in men’s clothing without it being immediately obvious that you’re a woman.’
She smiled grimly. ‘You might be surprised at my talents. I’m more concerned about you remaining for more than a few hours in this vicinity without attracting attention. You are … rather distinctive.’
‘You don’t think I can pass unnoticed, if I choose?’
‘Your clothing is unremarkable, but you, monsieur, are not.’ She looked him up and down, her gaze coming to rest on his face. ‘Both that golden hair—and your features—are far too striking.’
He couldn’t help feeling a purely male satisfaction that she found him so notable. As he held her gaze, smiling faintly, a surge of sensual energy pulsed between them, as powerful as if she’d actually touched him. From the gasp she uttered and her widened eyes, Will knew she’d felt it, too.
Hell and damn. Bad enough that he’d been immediately attracted to her. If he excited her lust as well …
It would complicate things, certainly. On the other hand, as long as he kept his head, if not his body, focused on his objective, he might be able to use that attraction later. Seducing her to achieve his aims would be much more pleasant for them both than outright coercion.
Filing that possibility away, he forced himself to look away, breaking the connection.
‘I’m a dab hand at disguises myself. I’ll not accompany your friend as her brother, but as her old uncle, who wears spectacles and has something of a limp. The gout, you know.’
Tilting her head, she studied him. ‘Truly, you are Max Ransleigh’s cousin?’
He couldn’t fault her scepticism; no more than she could Will imagine Max sneaking on to a balcony, breaking into a woman’s rooms, threatening her, or disguising himself as an old man.
‘I’m from the wrong side of the blanket, so I come by my disreputable ways honestly.’
‘Ah, I see. Very well, Clara will meet you at three of the afternoon, two days from now at the Lark and Plough, on Dusseldorfer Strasse. She’ll look for a bent old man with spectacles and a cane.’ She offered her hand.
‘Honour among thieves?’ Amused anew, he took her hand to shake it … and a zing of connection flowed immediately through her fingers to his.
Her face colouring, she snatched her hand back. No longer annoyed by the hardening of his loins, Will was beginning to find the possibility of seduction more enticing than regrettable.
‘Three o’clock, then.’ As she nodded and turned to go back into the house, he said, ‘By the way, madame, I will be watching. If any tall young man with a feminine air exits your lodgings in the interim, I will notice.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Why should I try to elude you? I want to return to Paris and you will help me do so. Until then, monsieur.’
Before she could walk away, a woman’s voice emanating from the second floor called out, ‘Madame, where are you?’
‘Get back!’ she whispered, pushing him into the shadows beneath the balcony.
‘That’s Clara, isn’t it? The maid who helped you?’ Will asked in an undertone as footsteps sounded on the balcony overhead.
‘Ah, there you are, in the garden,’ came the voice. ‘Shall I bring your dinner down there?’
‘No, I’ll be right up,’ madame called back.
She pivoted to face Will. ‘As soon as you hear me above, go back over the wall the way you came. I will do as you ask; there’s no need for you to harass Clara.’
‘What makes you think I haven’t already … harassed her?’
Her eyes widened with alarm before she steadied herself, no doubt realising that if he had accosted the maid, she would have probably arrived frightened and frantic, rather than calmly calling her mistress to supper. Still, even now it might be worth following the maid home and seeing if he could dredge out of her any additional information about her mistress.
As if she could read his thoughts, madame said fiercely, ‘If any harm comes to Clara, I will kill you.’
Amused at her audacity in daring to threaten him—this slender woman who must weigh barely more than a child and possessed neither strength nor any weapon—Will grinned. ‘You could try.’
Her gaze hardened. ‘You have no idea what I am capable of, monsieur.’ Showing him her back, she paced into her lodgings, a wisp of lavender scent lingering in her wake.
Chapter Four
Her heart beating hard, feeling as weak as if she’d run a mile through the twisting Vienna streets, Elodie hurried up the stairway to her rooms. Having placed her basket on a table, Clara was looking at the embroidery Elodie had just completed.
‘Ah, madame, this is the prettiest yet! The colour’s lovely, and the bird so vivid, one almost thinks it will fly off the gown.’ Looking up at Elodie, the maid nodded
