Page 22

Fastidiously, he removed his limp and soiled cravat and covered the stinking pot with it. For all the difference it would make.

Having left the cup in its usual place by his blanket, he listened at the door for signs of life. He heard none. Under the window, though, he could make out a faint hum of distant movement, cart wheels on cobbles, calling voices, the chirp of birds. Remote animal sounds—barks and snorts and hooves. None of it was close, but all of it reminded him of life beyond these walls.

Remembering which part of the sill he had clung to in order to get down last, he managed to claw his way back up without cutting his fingers this time. He opened the shutters and regarded the thrice damned board.

How was it held in place? Using a long shard of glass, he inserted it between the board and the wall and slid it downward until it struck an obstacle. It felt and sounded like metal. A bolt of some kind.

Would he be better attacking that? Or trying to hack through the wood? He would try each and judge which was the most promising.

***

BY THE MORNING, APRIL felt better. She was still tired, for the baby had wakened several times during the night, but she had rested enough to function. She itched to return to Seven Dials but couldn’t because she expected Mr. Pepper first thing this morning. Besides, she needed to eat in order to feed the baby.

She had got a terrible fright yesterday, hearing the baby’s inconsolable cry and finding Ruby walking him helplessly up and down the room. She’d had to tear off her clothes, sling them in Piers’s wardrobe—where no doubt Stewart would find them and guess what she’d been up to—and dash his washing water over her face and hands and hair.

God knew what Ruby thought of her. More to the point, she had let down her son and though he was an odd, alien little creature that seemed on occasion to have nothing to do with her or Piers, that hurt.

She rose and washed herself. By the time coffee and breakfast arrived, the baby was stirring once more. Ruby arrived in time to change him while April broke her fast and watched the nursery maid.

“I might have to go out today,” April said at last, for she had decided she had no choice but to confide in Ruby to some degree. “Without fuss. I know I can rely on you to look after him while I’m gone. Can I also rely on your discretion?”

Ruby did not look up from her task, though her face was flushed for some reason. “Of course, my lady. Everyone needs a moment of peace and fresh air.”

“Is that why you went out yesterday too?”

Ruby’s eyes flew up and met hers. “It was only half an hour,” she blurted. “I thought you were here.”

“I thought you were here. That won’t do.”

“No, my lady,” Ruby whispered.

“So, I will tell you if and when I leave him alone. And you will—er...remember to ask me before you leave the premises. An arrangement strictly between ourselves.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ruby said eagerly.

It was only seven o’clock in the morning. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, my lady,” came the startled answer.

“Good. Then if I feed him now, you will be able to stay with him, fending off all comers until I return.”

“Oh, yes, my lady,” Ruby said fervently. “I won’t tell a soul.”

It didn’t strike April until she was back in Piers’s smelly old clothes and halfway to Seven Dials, that the nursery maid had been just a little too eager to keep her secrets. Because Ruby had some of her own? For example, where the devil had she been yesterday afternoon, when April had gone to Seven Dials?

***

UNTIL HE HAD INHERITED his cousin’s baronetcy and accompanying lands, Hugo Cauldwell had not been an early riser. Worry now woke him at what he used to think of as the crack of dawn. To think he had once looked forward to this inheritance!

That was before he’d discovered the state it was in. He couldn’t even sell it since it was all entailed.

He rose, splashed cold water on his face, slapped a damp cloth about his body and rubbed himself dry. He found he was thinking of Haggard and his subtle questions about Lord Petteril.

Cauldwell liked Haggs. He particularly liked that he’d invited him to dine and introduced him to Petteril, who had first explained the novel idea of turning his failing estates into profitable ones. Petteril even lent him books and pamphlets and spent a lot of time explaining how he had gone about things, and how he meant to invest the first fruits of his new success.

Even now, going about the mundane business of dressing, Cauldwell felt again that frisson of excitement. There was indeed a way out of his difficulties, a way to wealth that should not take forever.

Dangerfield, in much the same boat as Cauldwell, had been far too resentful at Hagg’s dinner to do more than make fun. Idiot. Petteril was right, and Cauldwell would always be grateful to him for sharing his knowledge and wisdom.