CHAPTER 8
Fielding watched Esme slip out of the office. He leaned back in the straight-backed wooden chair and rubbed his hand down his face.
He’d never believed in foolish curses. Esme fancied him only because he’d rescued her. The kidnapping and subsequent hanging from manacles would have been an ordeal for anyone, but for a genteel lady such as Esme, it was too much. It was no wonder he had become the object of her affection.
Oh, perhaps she was attracted to him to some degree. He supposed there was no way she could act so beguiling were she not. But Esme didn’t want him, specifically; he was merely convenient.
She was a grown woman, though, and who was he to deny her something she wanted? He’d certainly played into her charms and kissed her when he ought to have kept his hands to himself.
But when she’d pressed her lips against his in that innocent way, he’d been unable to think of anything else but kissing her properly. Although propriety had been the furthest thing from his mind when he’d pulled her into his arms. He’d done it to teach her a lesson, show her that toying with him would not benefit her in the end. Yet it seemed that he was the one who had learned a lesson—that touching and kissing Esme would only whet a desire he knew he’d never be able to quench.
He’d told her from the beginning he was no gentle- man, and he’d meant it. If she wanted to play with fire, he’d hand her matches. Yet, as sweet as seducing Esme sounded, he had more pressing matters to handle. Namely, protecting her until he could get the blasted bracelets back into the box.
Stepping out onto her front step, Fielding examined both sides of the street. He knew the Raven’s men wouldn’t be far behind them. And just then, as if not to disappoint, Fielding caught sight of his uncle’s red crest on the shiny black carriage parked on a cross street a quarter mile up the lane.
“Esme,” he yelled as he entered the house again. This was no time for formalities. “We must leave. Now.”
She appeared in the hallway, breathy from her exertion. She’d changed into one of her own dresses, and the soft pink matched the stain on her cheeks. “What’s the matter?”
“They’ve found us.”
“Who’s found us?” Thea asked in a panic.
Esme eyed Fielding before she turned to her aunt. “The men who abducted me,” she said plainly.
If that was how she intended to soothe her aunt, she failed miserably. As it was, the older woman swayed on her feet and reached her hand out to the wall to steady herself.
“Gracious,” she muttered.
He wasn’t used to handling women. He knew how to give instruction to men, tell them where to dig or where to shine the light, but this hero business was damned challenging.
“I will ensure we leave safely,” Fielding muttered, hoping it eased their worries.
“Are they coming back in the house?” Thea asked. Her voice wavered, and it sounded as if any moment she would be reduced to sobs.
He released a string of curses that had both women turning clashing shades of red. “No, I’m sure they only mean to watch us and follow us should we leave. But we can get around them. Trust me.”
With that, he went to the driver still waiting in the hired rig in front of Esme’s home. He paid the man, then instructed him to leave, telling the driver that they’d changed their plans and were no longer in need of a coach. On the chance that the Raven’s men stopped the driver and paid for information, Fielding wanted to ensure they got nothing for their money. Proceeding to the alleyway behind Esme’s house, Fielding checked to make sure the Raven hadn’t stationed men there as well. Hiring a new rig was as simple as whistling through his two fingers. It was a considerably smaller carriage, but it would have to do.
“Hurry,” he told the women as he stepped back into the house. “We need to leave now.” When Esme started for the front door, he grabbed her arm. “This way. We’re going out the back.” He held the door open for them as they shuffled out to the waiting carriage.
Several minutes later, after their luggage had been quickly loaded, they were packed tightly in the hired coach—Fielding, Esme, Thea, and a surly-looking tomcat nestled in Esme’s lap.
Her aunt fluttered her hands. “First you disappear for two days, then you return and demand we abandon our home. I could have accepted any of that, but sneaking out the back door? And this mention of someone called the Raven?” Thea’s eyes grew large, and her voice pitched higher and higher.
“Thea, there is no reason for a fit of the vapors.” Esme reached over and patted her aunt’s knee. “But if you find you simply cannot abide it, I did bring some of your salts. Mr. Grey shall take excellent care of us.” She smiled sweetly. “He’s taking us somewhere safe. Somewhere I can read the journals and plan our next step.”
Her complete faith in him was unsettling. Not to mention unwarranted. The only thing that would come out of their time together would be disappointment for Esme. He looked out the window and saw the Raven’s carriage still stationed at the front of the house.
“I believe we’ll all be safe at the marquess’s house,” Fielding said.
“A marquess?” Thea asked, obviously impressed.
“Mr. Grey is a viscount,” Esme said.
“Indeed?” Thea’s thinned eyebrows rose. “Well, you shouldn’t be calling him mister; he has a more appropriate title, I should think.”
Fielding shook his head. “I prefer Mr. Grey. It is how I am known in my profession. But your aunt is right; we’re beyond formalities. Call me Fielding.” He scanned the street but found no sign of his uncle’s carriage.