"Aye, sir." At the driver's urging the horses clip-clopped into motion and Justin settled back in the plush seat.
Penfeld hunkered down into the lap blankets until all but the reddened bulb of his nose disappeared.
"I'd be the last to suggest a flaw in your character, Your Grace," he said, his voice muffled, "but don't you think you're being a bit overzealous?"
Justin slid open the window and craned his neck for a glimpse of Emily's plum-hooded head in the graceful brougham in front of them. "Nonsense, Penfeld. You know Emily has a penchant for getting
into mischief. London is full of dangerous sorts who might take advantage of that. I simply want to
ensure her safety."
Penfeld suspected his master's motives had more to do with Emily's transformation than London's dangers. Now that his little caterpillar had sprouted wings, he didn't want to risk her flying away.
"But we've been following her all day, and she has been the very model of propriety."
"That doesn't alter my responsibility to her. It's no more than any other guardian would do."
The valet rolled his eyes and muttered, "In a pig's eye."
Justin drew back his head. "Pardon me?"
Penfeld cleared his throat. "Impeccable, sir. I said your devotion to your ward was impeccable."
"Hmm." Justin leaned back in the seat, smirking. "I thought that was what you said."
* * *
Emily poked her head out the brougham window for the sheet pleasure of watching Justin's handsome, dark head disappear again. She threw herself back in the seat, biting her lip to keep from laughing. With
a frame as rugged and masculine as Justin's, he was hardly unobtrusive lurking behind lampposts and skulking outside ladies' dress shops. Why, she could hear the chattering of Penfeld's teeth through the window of the last haberdashery!
Lily shot her a curious look. "Why are you looking so pleased with yourself? Have you tacked a note saying 'Pinch me' to my bustle?"
"Would I do such a thing?" She leaned forward and whispered, "Actually I stuffed a dead hedgehog in your muff."
Lily jerked off her ermine muff and shook it in horror.
"For heaven's sake, I was only joking!" Emily assured her.
She hung out the window again, checking the progress of Justin's carriage. A hansom cab had come between them, and the coachman was frantically searching for a way past. She could well imagine the shouted instructions he was receiving from his master.
Lily squealed, startling her into bumping her head. "Good Lord, what was that for? Did you see a mouse?"
"No. I saw a house."
Emily blinked. Lily was even more unintelligible than her mother at times.
Lily caught the collar of her cloak and dragged her to the opposite window. "Look!" She clapped her hands over Emily's eyes. "No, wait. Don't look. Someone might see you. All right, you may look now."
All Emily saw was a rather ordinary-looking gray town house, fronted by a wrought-iron fence and a neatly trimmed lawn.
Lily lowered her voice to a theatrical whisper. "Mrs. Rose lives there with all of her little blooms."
"Mrs. Rose," Emily echoed softly, pushing back her hood.
She stared up at a lighted window on the second floor, thinking of Tansy. A sharp pang of nostalgia touched her. She wondered if her friend was still warmed by her fancy gentlemen with their gentle
hands and generous purses?
Lily threw herself back in the seat, sighing in content. "Harvey will have a Hereford if he knows we took this route." She giggled slyly. "Sometimes I wish he'd take this way himself. I try to lie very still and endure his attentions as Mama taught me, but I shouldn't mind so much if he snuck off to fertilize someone else's bloom. '
Lily began to sing under her breath, some ditty about the bees buzzing around Mrs. Rose's garden.
Emily sank back, fingering the soft wool of her cloak. She was hard pressed to imagine lying still
beneath the tender stroke of Justin's hands. The image brought warmth stinging to her cheeks.
How familiar was Justin with this street? Had his carriage ever been parked outside the pretty gray town house with the curtained windows? She frowned. If he was so determined to follow her, why shouldn't she lead him on a merry chase?
The carriage slowed at the corner. Emily reached for the door handle.
Lily recognized the sparkle of mischief in her eyes only too well. Her gloved hand closed over Emily's. "Oh, no, you don't. What are you up to? Going to jab the horses with a hairpin and send me careening into the Thames?"
"This joke isn't on you. I promise." She pried away Lily's clinging fingers. "Have the driver circle the block a few times, then pick me up in the park."
Ignoring Lily's protests, she opened the door a crack and eased out of the carriage. The driver clucked
the horses into motion, unaware that he had lost a passenger.
As the brougham rolled away, Lily hung out the window and hissed, "Take care, silly. The moon is already out. It'll be full dark soon."
Emily strolled across the road to the park, swinging her embroidered purse as if she hadn't a care in the world. From behind her she heard a frantic cry of "Whoa!" a horse's whinny, and the clatter of someone spilling out of a carriage in great haste. Pretending to brush a stray hair from her shoulder, she looked back just as Justin ducked behind the mottled trunk of a sycamore.
Pulling her hood up over her hair, she darted into a thicket of trees. The air was much colder here. A lacy web of branches blocked out all but the most tenacious rays of light. She followed a cobbled path around a frozen pond and past a terra-cotta cupid. Icicles dangled from his pouting lips. Dusk was falling fast.
She swung around a fragrant spruce, fully intending to circle back to the brougham by another path and leave Justin combing the park for her. The deepening shadows rendered the tangled shrubs a maze. She took one path, then another, only to find herself at the fountain again. Cupid smirked at her. She stuck her tongue out at him.
Hugging herself against the chill, she chose the only path she had not taken. It was much narrower than the others. Dead weeds sprouted through the cracked cobblestones. She was beginning to wish she were sitting in the parlor at Grymwilde, sipping hot spiced cider and listening to Edith drone on about a new embroidery pattern.
The bushes rustled behind her. Emily hesitated, regretting her folly. A woman walking unchaperoned in
a park was fair game for any scoundrel. A shiver crept down her spine. She swung around to face the looming shadows.
For a long moment there was only silence, then came the reassuring click of a walking stick against the cobblestones. She pressed a fist to her thundering heart in relief. Perhaps Justin had decided to play the game along with her.
She started to sing softly in Maori, a child's tune Dani had taught her, hoping to entice him to show himself.
A match flared in the darkness, followed by the unmistakable sizzle of flame against paper and the stringent tang of smoke. Emily's voice trailed to silence. She'd seen Justin partake of a pipe on occasion after dinner, but she'd never known him to smoke a cigarette.