It occurred to her that Lord Appleby was quite likely to be about. She knew he enjoyed wandering through the exhibit rooms, being recognized and congratulated by visitors, preening in the light of their admiration. The thought of him seeing her made her edge farther back beside a jewel-encrusted throne, even though she knew she was more or less invisible in her plain gray gown and straw bonnet. She was pretending to be a country girl come to the big city, and Aphrodite had supplied the disguise.
“I have a vast wardrobe. Some of my guests like to dress up. You’d be surprised at what gives them pleasure.”
Where was the courtesan’s friend?
Antoinette’s gaze skittered toward the aisle running by the Indian exhibit, and that was when she saw him.
The highwayman.
For a heartbeat she stared at him as he stood looking about him, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the color of his hair, that handsome face and strong chin. And as she stared she felt her senses going wild and her heart jumping about in her breast, and the thought formed in her mind that Aphrodite might be right.
She did love him.
Fear caught her by the throat—fear of him and of herself—and she couldn’t breathe. The next moment she was moving, unable to stop herself in her blind panic. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen her; she just had to get away from him.
What terrible luck had brought him here today? She couldn’t risk falling into his grasp again. And all the time she was zigzagging through the crowd, she was leaving the area where she was supposed to meet Aphrodite’s friend. She’d need to double back as soon as possible.
Antoinette sidestepped a couple as they stood gazing around them, expressing their wonder in broad Scots, and glanced back over her shoulder.
He was staring right at her.
There was a puzzled expression on his face, but as their eyes met she saw the flash of recognition. She didn’t wait for more. Antoinette sped on, and when she reached a clear space began to run in earnest, telling herself she was running for her life.
She looked back again at the next exhibit, and saw that he was closing in. There was a staircase and she ran up, slipped, only just saving herself by catching on to the railing. She hurried through a stained glass exhibit, the colors like jewels in the light that poured into the building, and then down another staircase. He was closing in; she knew it by the angry exclamations and gasps behind her as he plowed through those who stood in his way.
They were in the central aisle now, and potted plants and ferns and mature trees turned the space into a wonderland of greenery, but to Antoinette it was a blur. She picked up her skirts and petticoats, her bonnet fell back, dangling about her neck by its ribbons. Painted poles and bright banners made her dizzy, and then she saw it.
The way out!
In another moment she was outside in Hyde Park, moving toward the nearest street, telling herself that if she could find a hansom cab or a trolley bus she could escape him.
“Antoinette!” he roared.
With a whimper Antoinette tried to outdistance him, but her tight, heavy clothing was hampering her, and she knew that at any moment he’d be upon her and then all her struggles would have been for nothing. Ahead of her she could see a trolley bus trundling along through the traffic. If she could only get to it, climb on board…With a sob she forced her weary body to make a last effort.
His hand closed over her shoulder, spinning her around, and he was wrapping his arms around her, holding her in a grip it was impossible for her to break. She tried to scream but she had no breath left. The fight went out of her then, and she was reduced to gasping and hanging limp in his arms.
He must have known she was beaten. He set her down on her feet, but he kept a strong arm around her shoulders, pinning her to his side so to a casual observer it must have looked like an overly friendly embrace.
“Let me go. I’ll scream,” she gasped, still trying to breathe.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, equally breathless.
She tried to pull away from him but his arm was like iron, and then he caught her hands with his free hand and held them, too. “Let me go!” she wailed.
“No,” he gritted.
She glanced up at his face. He looked angry and bothered, his hair windblown, his eyes blazing. Her gaze lingered, and she couldn’t seem to look away. He caught her watching, and a smile flickered at the corners of his lips.
“Did you think I’d just give up and sail away, sparrow?”
“I didn’t think about you at all.”
His smile grew. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
He laughed, and then suddenly his face went blank. “Of all the cursed luck,” he muttered. He was looking over the road, where a coach had stopped, and abruptly he turned her around and headed back the way they’d come. Antoinette fought him, sensing something was very wrong, and when she couldn’t escape she craned her neck over her shoulder to see what it was he’d seen.