last night. She sent Emmy a telling look, but thankfully forbore to comment.
Harland stepped into the room and turned his penetrating gaze on Sally. “How long ago was this letter delivered?”
“About an hour.”
“By messenger?”
“Yes. One of them errand boys. There’s no way to trace it back to the source. We tried that before. None of ’em know where ’e lives.”
“Miss Danvers is currently helping Bow Street with its inquiries.”
Emmy gave an inelegant snort at his linguistic circumnavigation—helping with their inquiries, indeed.
He ignored her. “Miss Hawkins, you should return to Waverley Gardens and await further instruction. You may tell the countess what has happened at your discretion.”
Emmy opened her mouth to object to him giving such summary commands concerning her family, but he sent her a quelling glare.
“Miss Danvers and I,” he continued, “are going to discuss the location of the Nightjar’s ill-gotten gains.”
Sally sent Emmy another desperate look, and Emmy lifted her shoulders in a what can I do? shrug. In a choice between the Nightjar’s jewels and her brother’s life, there really wasn’t a decision to make. Luc was more important than any patriotic whim. She’d loved her father dearly, but he was dead, whereas Luc—she sincerely hoped—was still alive and well.
She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that cooperating with Bow Street would in any way lessen her eventual sentence, but she would do anything to save her brother. She sent Sally what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “He’s right. Please go and sit with Camille. Tell her I have everything under control.”
Sally nodded, apparently convinced by that outright lie. “All right. But you be careful, Em, you hear me.” She sent another meaningful glance toward Harland and stood, shaking out her skirts. “Don’t do anyfink I wouldn’t do.”
Emmy refrained from saying that didn’t rule out much at all.
“Mickey will be delighted to escort you home, Miss Hawkins.” Harland indicated the door with an expansive sweep of his arm, as if Sally were a duchess, and she bustled back into the passageway with a mollified sniff. “And Mickey,” he added to the hovering manservant, “tell Sam to saddle up Bey.”
As soon as the rustle of Sally’s skirts and the thump of Mickey’s boots had receded, he turned back to Emmy with a steely look in his eye. “Enough skirmishing. Where are the rest of the jewels?”
Emmy gave a disgruntled sniff. “Very well. They’re buried in the grounds of a ruined abbey. In Rutland.”
“Rutland?” he said aghast. “Near Lincolnshire? Dear God. Why there? I thought they would be here, in London.”
She shook her head, rather enjoying his irritation. “My grandfather had a hunting lodge out there. You can’t just go and dig the place up, though. Only Luc and I know the exact location of the cache.” She sent him a sweet, triumphant smile. “If you want all the jewels, you’re going to have to take me with you.”
His eyes narrowed in displeasure. “How do I know you’re not leading me on a wild goose chase? That you won’t try to escape en route?”
“Apart from the fact that I give you my word?” she countered. “At least credit me with not wanting Luc to be hurt. I’m as keen to get those jewels to Danton as you are.”
That logic seemed to satisfy him. “How far is it?”
Emmy suppressed a smile. “About ninety miles. It’s near Stamford, straight up the Great North Road.”
“Can we get there and back by this time tomorrow?”
“I believe so. It takes about six hours, with a change of horses.”
“Can you ride?”
Emmy shook her head. “Not for that distance. I usually take the mail coach.”
He gave a put-upon sigh and glanced at the clock on the mantel. “If we leave now, we should get there before dark. I’ll have Sam ready the carriage for you.”
“But not for you?”
He shook his head with a grimace of distaste. “I’ll ride.”
Emmy told herself the dip in her spirits was not disappointment. Was his grimace because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in her presence, or simply because he hated to be confined inside when he could ride? Why did she even care?
He crossed to the side table, picked up the ruby, and made a point of placing it in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Stay here. I’ll see about some food for you.”
Emmy wrinkled her nose at his departing back, but it was hard to stay annoyed when he was being so considerate. She hadn’t thought he’d care whether she’d eaten or not.