A Debutante's Guide to Rebellion (9 page)

“Those are your mother's diamonds,” he observed.

“Indeed they are,” she said. “And I'm going to sell them to finance our escape.”

“You can't,” Ezekiel said. He knew enough of Lady Copeland to understand that she would not let such an offense go unpunished.

“She won't know,” Eddie assured him. “She would never suspect me of being capable of such a thing.”

“She'll know that you are capable of stealing yourself. Diamonds may not be such a stretch,” Ezekiel countered.

“Oh, she'll blame you for stealing
me
,” Eddie said dismissively. “And it's not like she can actually do anything to you. Not once we're married.” The rain had turned her hair into a dark, bedraggled cap and ran down her face, but she was still smiling. He had never seen her so happy.

“I don't know how to sell stolen goods,” Ezekiel said. “Do you?”

“I imagine one starts by finding a seedy-looking public house,” Eddie said.

“For seedy, we shall have to walk at least five streets over,” Ezekiel said.

“Then we had best get walking. My footwear is most unsuited to this rain, and I should very much like to be on our way as soon as possible.”

“Well, then.” He bent his elbow so that she could take it. She pressed against him as they walked. It was the rain, he told himself, that spurred her to do so.

But when she leaned her head on his shoulder, he had no explanation at all.

Though the night was warm, the rain was not, and before they had gone three streets over Eddie was shivering. It was also getting difficult to hold on to the slick diamonds with her waterlogged gloves, so she slipped them into a pocket of her borrowed jacket as they walked.

Reality was beginning to catch up with her. She had no real idea how to go about selling stolen gems. Even if she knew where to find a criminal who might purchase stolen objects, they were unlikely to have anything on hand approaching the right amount. Perhaps she could sell only one of them, for however much their chosen man had on hand. Perhaps it would be enough to take them to Scotland. Or at least buy them a few nights at an inn, so that they could hide until it was safe to send for funds from Lord Averdale.

A door opened up ahead, spilling light and two listing forms into the night. Eddie stiffened against Ezekiel as the men staggered toward them. One was huge, broad in the shoulders with arms just about as thick around as Ezekiel's whole body. The other was whip-thin, but something in his face made Eddie deeply uneasy.

The pair walked straight toward Eddie and Ezekiel. Eddie fetched up short, certain they would crash straight into each other, but at the last moment the men parted. The thin one brushed past her, jostling her against Ezekiel, and then moved on. She let out a relieved breath.

“Are you all right?” Ezekiel asked.

“Quite,” she said. She dipped her hand into her pocket unthinkingly—and froze. They were gone. The diamonds were gone. “He took them,” she hissed.

Ezekiel's head whipped around. “Hey!” he shouted. The men kept moving. “You! You can't—you—stop!” He was moving toward them at a jerky if determined gait. Eddie hesitated only a moment before flitting after. Those diamonds were all they had.

The men kept their ambling pace, as if they had no notion what could have caused Ezekiel's upset. He reached them with a final burst of speed and seized the slender man's arm. The man whirled on him. The big one came around more slowly, gradually. Eddie fetched up a few steps short of them. The man was
massive
. He had arms too thick to wrap her hands around and a neck to match. His hands rolled up into fists like clubs.

“Problem?” the skinny man asked. He had a reedy voice and a twitchy face.

“You took something from my friend,” Ezekiel said. “I'd like you to give it back.”

“We didn't take anything. Did we, Moses?” the man said, casually. The big man shook his head. “Best you move on, boy.”

“I will not,” Ezekiel said. He glanced back at her, and there was something in his eyes she didn't like. A fierce determination. His plan had fallen apart, and he was going to do something stupid to salvage it. Oh, Ezekiel. She'd thought he was immune to that kind of foolishness.

“Ezekiel, let's go,” she said. The rain drummed down over all of them. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “Ezekiel.”

“‘Ezekiel, let's go,'” the thin man mimicked. He made a face. “Better listen to your little lady-bird.”

Eddie blinked. She had absolutely no idea what that word meant, but the snarl in the man's voice said it was a most vicious insult. So did the sudden flush of color in Ezekiel's cheeks. And the tightening of his fingers into a fist. And the sudden explosion of movement from his whole body.

His fist struck the man in the jaw with cracking force. The man went down, folding like a fan. He struck the ground straight as a plank, and there was a further crack where his head hit the pavement. For a long second, the three of them still standing stared at one another. Fear leapt into Eddie's throat. Had Ezekiel killed the man?

But he was swearing, slurring, lurching upright.

“You skinny little piece of—” he said, and swung.

Ezekiel might have managed a truly spectacular punch, but apparently his boxing lessons had not reached the topic of
dodging
. The strike caught him in the ear, and he lurched sideways, falling to his knees. Eddie lunged forward, shoving herself between them before the man could land another blow.

Ladies didn't learn to punch. But it was instinctual enough to rake her nails down the man's face, digging hard against his already-bruising flesh. Her nails drew blood. The man yelled in pain.

And then she saw the knife. She froze in shock as the blade appeared in his hand. She met his eyes. There was no pity or hesitation there.

Huge hands closed around the thin man's arms. The giant lifted his companion a full two inches from the ground, turned, and deposited him on the giant's opposite side. The big man looked over his shoulder. “Better go,” he said. “He really will stab you.”

Eddie's mind took another half heartbeat to catch up with this information, but by then her body had taken matters into its own hands. She dashed to Ezekiel's side and hauled him upright. His spectacles were askew, and his eyes were a touch unfocused, but he got to his feet readily enough.

“Let's go,” Eddie said firmly, and dragged him away.

“But—” he said.

“No,” Eddie said. He didn't protest again. With the rain soaking through every layer of clothing and hot tears on her cheeks, she hauled him down the street and around the first corner she came to. They fetched up in an alleyway strung with clotheslines, from which hung the now-sodden forms of handkerchiefs. Stolen handkerchiefs, no doubt. She felt much like they looked at the moment.

She set Ezekiel against the wall, and he sagged to the ground. She lowered herself beside him. Her clothing could hardly get
more
ruined, could it?

“You shouldn't have done that,” Eddie said.

“He stole the diamonds,” Ezekiel said dully.

“Don't say that so loudly,” Eddie chided. “It's all right. Maybe we'll get them back. We could tell a constable . . .” She trailed off. Only the bravest Bow Street Runners would dare come into this neighborhood, she suspected. And what exactly was she supposed to say if one agreed to?
A thief stole the diamonds I stole.
Oh, that would go over well.

“This is all my fault,” Ezekiel said. He held his head in both hands, fingers digging into his hair. “I've ruined everything for you, Lady Eddie. I am simply not suited for the act of courtship or adventure, I see that now. I had thought that with the proper application of my uncle's assistance and what I have gleaned from my admittedly limited experience of fiction—”

Eddie laughed. The sound surprised both of them. She slipped her arm into his and nestled close. Truth be told, she needed the warmth. “If everything went according to plan, it would not be much of an adventure,” she pointed out. “I'm still glad you came for me.”

“I wanted this to work out,” Ezekiel said. “I know that it is not what you deserve. You deserve to marry a man you are in love with. But I can at the very least supply you with a husband who finds you unobjectionable.”

“How romantic,” Eddie said.

“Entirely unobjectionable,” Ezekiel stressed.

“It still doesn't sound very good,” Eddie told him.

“What you have been told are your faults make you entirely intriguing and delightful to me,” Ezekiel tried. “I think you are clever and lovely, and . . . and you listen to me, and when you tease me I am not concerned that it is because you dislike me.” He seemed to be drawing each word toward him from a great distance. “However, these separate factors, when combined, do not serve to adequately explain the regard that I have for you. They are insufficient.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” she said.

“You do?”

“I think you are brilliant, and nice to look at, and kind, and entertaining. But none of that adequately explains the regard I have for
you
,” Eddie said. Ezekiel looked at her. A drop of rain hung at the very tip of his nose. More dripped down from his hair into his eyes, but they were both too wet to care. “But you are terribly wrong about one thing, Ezekiel.”

“What is that?” he asked.

“You are exactly what I deserve. Because I am in love with you,” she said.

He stared at her. His lips moved as if silently repeating the words. “Since when?” he said.

“Just now,” she said.

“It isn't because I punched that man, is it?” Ezekiel asked. “Because I do not believe I shall attempt to replicate the experience.”

She shook her head. “Definitely not. I would much prefer that you never punch anyone ever again. Though it was very brave.”

“And stupid.”

“Very stupid,” she agreed.

“It's interesting,” he said.

“That punching someone is a stupid idea?”

“No. That a few hours ago I was not in love with you. But now I have been in love with you since I saw you eat a strawberry,” he said. His brow creased. “The two cannot simultaneously be correct.”

“A scientific mystery you shall have to solve someday,” Eddie said. Her cheeks were flushed. She could not keep a smile from her face. He smiled, too, tentatively. “Well,” she said.

“Well?”

“We're in love.”

“So we have declared.”

“Shouldn't we kiss, then?”

He blinked. “Oh. Yes. That is the correct procedure, isn't—”

She grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him to her.

She had been wrong. Perhaps she had startled him out of the scientific approach; he did not kiss her as if she were a puzzle to be solved. It appeared that she had discovered a new field in which Ezekiel possessed great natural talent.

He kissed her as if she existed to be kissed by him. As if all that she was and all that he was centered on this moment, this touch. His lips against hers, his hands in her hair, the taste of rain on their tongues.

She broke away from him, gasping a little, and he gave her a sheepish smile.

“That was rather nice,” he said.

“Let's do it again,” she said breathlessly.

“Now?”

She nodded. They resumed.

It proved a most pleasant way of staving off the cold for the next several minutes. Eddie might have been content to continue the activity all night, if it were not for the sound of hoofbeats and carriage wheels on the street outside.

She pulled away from Ezekiel again and looked over her shoulder. A large carriage had halted at the end of the alley. The door opened and a man stepped out, holding a lantern high. She squinted through the light.

“Well,” Lord Averdale said. “I see you've sorted that out, at least. Do you still need a ride? I can come back later.”

Eddie rose, holding Ezekiel's hand. “We should very much appreciate your assistance,” she said with every ounce of dignity that she could muster.

Lord Averdale laughed. “Get in the carriage. You look like a couple of drowned terriers.”

He ushered them inside, and they huddled, dripping, on the bench, while he continued to laugh.

***

To Eddie's great relief, Lord Averdale had thought to bring them each a change of clothing. Eddie managed to change huddled beneath a blanket while the men turned their backs, and soon she was encased in one of Sophie's dresses, which was considerably too small in certain areas but entirely preferable to her utterly ruined gown.

“You should know that a few things have occurred,” Lord Averdale said when they were all able to face one another again. “First of all, you've been found out. It is now common knowledge that the two of you have absconded to Scotland together. Second of all, your parents have spent the last hour shouting at one another.”

“Oh dear,” Eddie murmured. She looked down at her hands. She could imagine the contents of that argument. No doubt their characters had been savagely torn apart by one another's families. And their own.

“Third of all, after all that shouting, they all seem to have realized that this solves a great number of their problems,” Lord Averdale said. “Ezekiel, your father suddenly began speaking about how you had finally shown some spine and proven yourself a man. Taking what you want, and all of that. He seems proud.”

Ezekiel looked startled. “He what?”

“And Lady Mildred, your mother was much mollified when I reiterated to her my disinclination to produce an heir. She appears to have finally decided to take me at my word, as it is the only way to wring a personal triumph from the proceedings. She is suddenly thrilled to have landed you a husband; she is taking all of the credit. As for your father—”

“I can only imagine,” Eddie said darkly.

“Your father seems resigned to the situation,” Lord Averdale said.

“More like disinterested.”

“They have all agreed that should you be located and returned home, they will consent to your marriage. A
proper
marriage. A swift one, mind you, but a wedding in a chapel with your families in attendance.”

Ezekiel looked at Eddie, and she met his gaze. For all their talking, at this moment they didn't need to speak a single word to understand one another.

“No,” Eddie said firmly. “We're going to Scotland. And if my family disinherits me, all the better.”

“Ezekiel?” Lord Averdale said.

“Under no circumstances is Lady Copeland to be allowed to involve herself in Lady Eddie's wedding,” Ezekiel said.

Eddie's eyes widened in horror. She hadn't even thought of
that
. Everything would be a cause for dissatisfaction. The flowers, the choice of chapel, the dress, the shoes, the attendants—

“Scotland,” Eddie said.

“Scotland,” Ezekiel agreed.

Lord Averdale chuckled. “Scotland, then. I hope you don't mind an old man's company.”

“We should be honored,” Eddie said.

“And you of course cannot travel alone in the company of two unmarried men,” Lord Averdale said. “Miss Osborn will be meeting us shortly.”

Eddie settled back in her seat. She had always expected to be married with great ceremony and hundreds of guests, primped and polished and posed at her mother's whim. Instead she was going to her wedding with her hair hanging in damp defeat about her ears, wearing another girl's ill-fitting dress, with only two witnesses.