If I Fall (34 page)

From what he could gather in the past ten minutes of the back and forth exchange, Phillippa had been informed of the extent of the mission last night, on the presumption that Sarah was going to confide in her in any case.

“When time is of the essence—”

“That is nonsense and you know it! You could have
found another way.
” Phillippa’s voice shook with her anger.

Jack would not have wanted to be Marcus Worth last night.

Then again, as he massaged his shoulder, he hadn’t very much enjoyed being Jackson Fletcher last night, either.

While he had been picking thorns out of his flesh, Jack had time to think over his actions—not only of last night, but of his entire time in London. And while firstly, he was grateful that Sarah had peeked out over the railing, to make certain he landed safely, he knew, wholly and completely, that he had deserved every bit of her spite last night. Every shove. Every fall. Every thorn.

Goddamn, but Sarah was right. He had changed. He’d become strangely cynical, and lost. He’d just been too wrapped up in how much
she
had changed to see it.

He hated that. He wanted to be that boy again—the one with hope for a marvelous, adventure-filled future. The one who caught Sarah Forrester when she was hanging upside-down from a tree. He’d wanted to protect her from all the hurt in the world, then. He’d wanted to be there for her in that way … and somehow he got sidetracked, and failed miserably.

It was as he was contemplating these failures, and listening to Marcus be taken apart by his wife, that the object of his thoughts was let into the room.

Jack straightened immediately upon seeing Sarah. He may have had the night from hell, and looked like death warmed over to prove it, but Sarah looked as glossy and calm as ever. Indeed, she looked particularly lovely, wearing a blue day dress—possibly the first time that he’d seen her in a shade other than gold. It made her look fresh, and young. Even if the expression on her face did not agree with that assessment.

“Oh,” she said, upon seeing him in the room. But she only
paused for a moment, before she raised her head high and walked into the room, taking a seat on the farthest possible end of the sofa.

“Miss Forrester,” Jack said, nodding his head. “Come to call on Lady Phillippa?”

“Sir Marcus, actually,” Sarah replied. They let the silence descend, as saying words took more effort than either of them could seem to manage at that moment. Speaking, explaining, apologizing again … it was all too much. And so, they existed in silence.

Well, a sort of silence.

“If you think for one moment that I am going to allow you to do
anything
more involving that poor girl—” came Phillippa’s voice from beyond the door.

“Philly, I already said I wouldn’t—I promise, we’ll find another way back in…”

“Don’t you dare call me Philly right now!”

Jack caught Sarah’s expression as she listened to her friend give her husband hell. At first it was astonishment, then the corner of her mouth went up, just a fraction. But when her eyes fell on his, her expression was quickly smoothed back into nothingness, her gaze averted, and distant.

“Do you think they’ll be long?” she asked, her voice slightly strained.

“I can’t imagine it would be much longer,” Jack exhaled. “They’ve circled back on the same argument twice already.”

“I see.”

And thus, silence descended again. But this time, Jack decided that perhaps he was too tired to
not
talk. Too tired to remain reserved.

“You can look at me, you know,” he sighed. “My visage won’t turn you to stone.”

An eyebrow went up, but still her attention remained forward, like the best-trained soldiers in formation. “And who will I see?” she asked quietly.

“You’ll see me, Sarah. The same as always,” he replied, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. “Besides, you won’t see me for that much longer in any case.”

Those green eyes shot to him in alarm.

“I spoke with Whigby this morning. His uncle has invited
me to travel with them as far as Lincolnshire when they leave town in a week or so. Whigby will be aboard the
Dresden
by then, so they shall have room in the carriage.”

“You’re just going to go?” she blurted, surprising even herself with her vehemence. “With … with barely a word to Father, or Mother, or Bridget and Mandy?”

He nodded slowly. “It is for the best. As soon as this business is over, I’ll be leaving.”

“This business?”

He indicated the room beyond, where the expostulations of argument had calmed to a buzzing murmur. “We didn’t finish searching the last room. Sir Marcus needs to know as definitively as possible what is in there before he can act.”

A look of concern crossed Sarah’s face, then she began pulling at her pelisse’s cuffs, thoughtful.

“Do you think there is anything behind that painting?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jack replied definitively.

“Why? Because you don’t trust the Comte?”

“Because there is something very strange in that house,” he answered. The spotless, empty attic. The Holbein reproduction. The all-foreign staff. The closed-up music room. Yes, there was something very strange going on in that house.

But if Sarah was going to comment on it further, he was not to know. Because at that moment, the door to the study burst open, admitting a charging Phillippa, with a clearly defeated Marcus quick on her heels.

“Sarah!” Phillippa exclaimed. “I am so, so sorry. Had I known that by telling Marcus of your encounter with the Blue Raven that you would end up in such an untenable position—”

“It’s all right, Phillippa. But thank you for being so concerned.” She took her friend’s hand.

“There is so much I need to explain to you,” Phillippa began, her eyes beginning to shine with tears. “My darling Marcus—he’s trying to protect the country, you see, and saw an opportunity when he discovered
that one
”—she shot a spare glance over to Jack— “decided to dress up like—”

“I said it’s all right, Phillippa.” Sarah interrupted, soothing her friend’s arm. “I’ve managed to piece most of it together, I think.”

“And you!” Phillippa suddenly turned on Jack, her watery eyes drying at an alarming rate. “What on earth possessed you to dress up as the Blue Raven? I’ve never heard of such a harebrained scheme to get a lady’s attention.” Behind them Marcus conspicuously cleared his throat, but this went unanswered by his wife. Instead she kept her anger focused on Jack. “And who in their right mind goes along with such a dangerous scheme concocted by my husband and brother-in-law? Have you no grace, sir? No sense of decency?”

“It was either that or face murder charges, ma’am,” Jack said on a bow. But Phillippa waved this away with an easy hand.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Marcus would have never brought an obviously innocent man up on charges. You need to play cards a bit more often, I think—and learn to spot a bluff when you see one.”

“My dear,” Marcus interrupted finally, “before you go on giving away all the family secrets, perhaps it would be best if Lieutenant Fletcher and I spoke in private.”

“Not on your life!” Phillippa replied. “You do not get to scheme and plan anything else on your own, especially if it is going to involve my friends and society at large! You’ll just make a muddle of it.”

“Be that as it may, madam,” Jack replied, seeing that Marcus might be too worn down by a night and day of having been reprimanded, “we do need to plan our next move. Somehow we need to get back into the Comte’s—er, the Duke of Parford’s home.”

“Exactly,” Sarah piped up. All eyes turned to her. “What do you need me to do?”

Jack felt all the blood drain from his face. “You will stay as far away from this as humanly possible. This is not your affair.”

“Neither is it yours,” Sarah replied. “And yet, you find yourself mired in its center, intent upon solving the mystery. Well, so am I. I want to help.”

Jack turned to Marcus. “Tell her she can’t…”

“Last time you asked for my help, I did not know all the circumstances. This time I do, and I’m offering up my services.” Sarah stepped forward, her head held regally high, daring anyone to challenge her.

“Now, for the last time, what do you need me to do?”

“Georgina!” Sarah cried as she was met at the door of the Duke of Parford’s home the next morning. She was out of breath, in her riding habit, as if she had just rode over from Upper Grosvenor Street in a mad dash. Which is, of course, exactly what she had done. “Is the Comte at home?”

“No,” Georgina replied tentatively, somewhat taken aback by Sarah’s appearance, which of course was the plan. “He went to Tattersall’s with Mr. Ashin Pha. Apparently, there is an Arabian he’s thinking to purchase.”

Sarah squelched the impulse to raise an eyebrow, knowing what she did now of the Comte’s spending habits. But instead, she grabbed Georgina’s hand and pulled.

“Excellent! Then you shall have to come with me. Oh, Mrs. Hill! You must come, too!” Sarah cried, noticing Georgina’s stocky companion over Georgina’s slight shoulder. “You will not believe it!”

“Good gracious, what is the matter?” Georgina cried, slightly taken aback.

“It’s a miracle!” Sarah cried. “You know how you mentioned that you did not feel you were up to snuff in terms of fashion? Well. I mentioned this to Lady Worth, just thinking that she would brush it off like I did, because of course your clothes are lovely, for foreign styles. Well, Phillippa generously offered up her next appointment with Madame LeTrois. But it is in twenty minutes; you must come now!”

“Oh … Sarah, I do not know…” Georgina demurred, looking aside to Mrs. Hill. But Sarah was insistent. “Oh, Georgina, you cannot say no. Madame LeTrois books her clients seasons in advance. Only a recommendation from one of her other clients will get you in. And it may be possible that Phillippa mentioned this in front of Lady Whitfield, and some others … so if you say no, it will be just impossible for you to go out without anyone and everyone commenting on your dress.” Sarah made sure to look as crestfallen and shocked as possible.

The normally staunch and leading Mrs. Hill, when looked to for help, could only shrug her shoulders and say, “Tis your decision, Miss Georgina. But we have a full evening planned.”

“And she should have a new gown for it!” Sarah cried.

And it seemed the ruse worked, because Georgina looked momentarily conflicted, which Sarah pounced on. “It will be such fun—Madame LeTrois will create something in your very own style. There will be only one Miss Georgina Thompson.”

With a shrug of her small shoulders, Georgina relented, and Sarah clapped her hands. “Oh, wonderful! Mrs. Hill, call for a carriage, we must go at once. Phillippa will be meeting us there. I’ll have my horse stalled in your mews, shall I?”

“And I should write a note to my brother. Let him know we have left. He does not like me to leave the house without him,” Georgina supplied by way of explanation.

Sarah froze. If the Comte was aware the house was empty, he might return post haste. Therefore, thinking quickly, she altered the plan slightly. “Excellent idea! Why not have him meet us at Madame LeTrois?”

“Why would my stepbrother meet at a ladies’ modiste?” Georgina asked, as she pulled on a straw hat, better suited to foreign climes.

“Why, because he will want to show you off immediately thereafter, I am sure!”

And with that, Sarah managed to get Georgina, Mrs. Hill, their Indian driver and footman riding along with them, away from the house for hours in the sunny afternoon, leaving only burly foreign servants to guard the house.

It was as empty as the place was going to get.

Jack watched as the carriage filled with the harried and excited women, led by an ebullient Sarah, rumbled away from the Duke of Parford’s home. He had been on that corner since dawn, and planning for this since yesterday, when they had all met up together.

“We have to make the house as empty as possible,” Marcus had mused, as they sat in Lady Phillippa’s overly pink drawing room discussing strategy. “Now, I have a friend that can make sure a certain Arabian horse is up for sale at Tattersall’s tomorrow morning, which will get the Comte and his friend out of the house—they seem to have taken a liking to horseflesh.
But Miss Georgina rarely leaves unless it is to accompany her brother somewhere. She does not pay calls often, nor does she do the household shopping.”