A Rogues Proposal (Cynster 4)

Gillies returned to her side to briefly murmur, "I'll go find Bletchley." Then he melted into the ever-increasing crush as the innkeeper joined her.

"This way, ma'am."

Five minutes later, with a great deal of graciousness and enough care to make her feel slightly guilty, she was installed in the very best chamber the inn possessed. Hodges admitted as much when she exclaimed over the size of the room and the superior quality of the furniture.

With a gruff suggestion that she might prefer to have her dinner on a tray to avoid the crowd downstairs-a suggestion with which she readily agreed-he left her.

Flick blew out a breath, then returned to the door and threw the bolt. Crossing to the bed, she sank down upon it; extracting her pins, she pushed back her hood and veil.

And grinned triumphantly.

She'd done it! On the eve of a prizefight, she'd secured a room at the most prominent inn.

Now all she needed to do was find Bletchley-and follow him into his masters' presence.

Leaving Newmarket, Demon headed south, past the racecourse and his stable and on across the empty Heath. As he tickled his leader's ear, then sent the whip hissing back up its handle, the last glow in the west died. Night came slowly, approaching on silent wings, borne on the shadows that reached over the Heath to enfold the country in darkness. Before him lay his stud farm, with its comfortable parlor and one of Mrs. Shephard's excellent country dinners.

Between him and supreme comfort lay Hillgate End.

It was awfully late to pay a social call, but even before he'd formulated an excuse, he checked the bays and turned them up the manor's drive. Flick would be glad he was back early-she could tell him if anything had transpired in his absence. So could Gillies, of course, but he'd rather hear it from Flick. He'd only stay for a minute, just to assure himself all was well.

He brought the curricle to a scrunching halt in the gravel before the steps. A groom or stable lad-he couldn't see in the gloom-came loping across from the stable.

"I'll only be a few minutes," he called as he strode up the steps. Just long enough to see Flick's smile-to see her anticipation of tomorrow come alive.

Jacobs opened the door to his knock.

"Good evening, Jacobs." Crossing the threshold, he drew off his gloves. "Is Miss Parteger about?"

"I'm afraid not, sir." Jacobs closed the door and turned. "She left this afternoon to visit with a friend. I believe she's expected back tomorrow."

Demon managed to keep the frown from his face-he knew it showed in his eyes. "A friend."

"Miss Blackthorn, sir. She and Miss Parteger have been in the way of exchanging visits over the past years."

"I… see." The proposition that, with Bletchley on the Heath, Flick had abdicated her responsibilities-what she saw as her responsibilities-and had happily gone off to visit a friend, just like any other young lady, was simply too much to swallow. But Jacobs's easy expression declared that he knew no more; with a curt nod, Demon stepped to the door. "Tell her I called when she returns."

Jacobs hauled open the door. "And the General?"

Demon hesitated. "Don't bother him-I'll call and see him tomorrow."

He went swiftly down the steps and strode to his curricle, every instinct he possessed flickering, every nerve jangling. Accepting the reins with a distracted nod, he stepped up to the box seat and sat. Raising his hands to give the bays the office, he glanced at the groom.

And froze.

He frowned. "You're the coachman here, aren't you?"

The man bobbed his head. "Aye, sir." He jerked his head toward the stable. "The lads have gone home, so there's just me and old Henderson."

"But… if you're here, who's driving Miss Parteger?"

The man blinked. "Why, your man, sir. Gillies."

Light dawned-Demon didn't like what he saw. Jaw setting, he nodded to the coachman. "I see. Thank you."

He sprang the bays; when he reached the road, he set them flying.

Demon found no joy-no news-waiting for him at the farmhouse. Which, he reasoned, meant Gillies imagined they'd be back before the following evening. That didn't tell him where they were now-where they were spending this evening-and, more importantly, what they thought they were doing.