The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,15

her ailing grandmother—whom Benna hadn’t seen since she was a toddler. But the old lady had died before they’d arrived. While the duke was busy with funeral matters Benna had dressed up in breeches and sneaked out with Tom, who’d taken her to the auction, where nobody had guessed that she was a girl. Not exactly an edifying experience for a thirteen-year-old girl to realize she could so easily pass for a boy, but …

“You really think I could do it?” she asked Tom.

“You’d have to cut your hair.” He studied her, his expression thoughtful. “Even then, there’s the color.”

He meant the distinctive towhead white that she’d inherited from her father.

“Do you remember Miss Taverner?” Benna asked.

Tom’s expression soured. “Oh, aye, her.”

Miss Taverner had been a horrid governess who’d left the duke’s employ after less than three months, thanks to some encouragement from Benna. The woman had dyed her hair a jet black, which had made the ancient governess resemble a corpse.

“You could do that,” Tom agreed. “But mebby don’t dye it so dark. And you could say you’re younger than seventeen to explain the lack of whiskers—I reckon you could pass for fifteen. Oh, and how about this?” He reached into his pocket and took out a familiar wooden case. “Here,” he said, unfolding his spectacles, “Put these on.”

Benna slid the glasses onto her nose. “Goodness,” she said, the magnification making her dizzy.

Tom grinned, his face blurry. “You look nothin’ like you, Your Grace.”

“You’ll have to stop calling me that, Tom. It’s a dead giveaway.” She squinted through the thick glass. “These might be a good disguise but I don’t think I can walk without running into things.” She removed them and handed them back.

“Oh, well, those’re the strongest the oculist had. We could get some that wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve got a bit-o-brass I saved up.” He patted his pocket, where he must have put his money. “But not enough to keep you in comfort, your—er, lad. Can you get your hands on any—” He broke off and shook his head, “Lord. I can’t believe the words I’m sayin’! If the old duke was here he’d—”

“If my father were here then I wouldn’t have this problem. But he’s not here, Tom. And what you’re saying makes perfect sense, given my other options. I need to get away from Michael—and soon. As for money, I’m afraid I have none, but I’ve got a goodly amount of jewelry to sell.” She frowned. “If I can find a way to get it out of the vault.”

Tom nodded, his gaze abstracted “How long do you reckon you’ll need to hide—and to what end?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I can’t imagine I should need to stay hidden more than a few weeks.”

“You think them solicitors will help? What if they believe you should be back with your guardian—since it’s the law?”

Benna hadn’t thought about that. Would Mr. Norris feel compelled to return her to Michael? What proof did she have of his plan?

Benna shook away the horrid questions, which seemed to be multiplying like rabbits even as she stood there. “I can think about that later. If not Mr. Norris then there has to be somebody I could go to for help, I just need to wrack my brains. I can’t stay here and think about it. I might wake up tomorrow to find I’m on my way to some dreadful place with bars on the windows and—”

“Well, lookee ’oo I found ’ere—a convict and ’is accomplice.”

Benna yelped and spun around.

Diggle stood at the head of the rough path that led to the spinney, grinning from ear to ear.

Benna glanced around wildly, looking for others.

“Naw, luv, just me.” Diggle gave an ugly chuckle. “’Ardly need any ’elp pluckin’ one old bird and a scrawny pullet.” He lumbered toward them.

Tom reached out an arm and none-too-gently shoved Benna behind him. “Run, Your Grace.”

“No, Your Grace,” Diggle mocked, reaching beneath his drab duster and pulling out a cudgel. “You stay right where you are, luvvie.”

Diggle was a hulking man but he moved so fast that he seemed a blur. His arm was only a flicker before the club connected to Tom’s head with a sickening thud.

“Tom!” Benna screamed as the old man went down like a felled tree.

She dropped to her knees beside Tom’s motionless body and leaned over until she felt a faint puff of warm air on her cheek. She almost wept with relief. “We need to get him to a