The Duke Heist (The Wild Wynchesters #1) - Erica Ridley Page 0,50

marzipan,” Hastings chided her, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mrs. Elkins sniffed in disdain, but twin spots of color bloomed on her round cheeks.

“Miss Wynchester will love these, Your Grace,” Dinah assured Lawrence.

Jackson, the footman, beheld his lopsided creation doubtfully. “Will she?”

“I didn’t say this was a gift for anyone,” Lawrence protested.

Nobody paid any attention.

“I’ll pray she accepts it,” Mrs. Elkins promised him.

A sharp pang slashed through Lawrence’s chest.

How he wished this were a romantic gesture and not a platonic gift between friends. He didn’t just want to make her smile; he wanted to taste the sweetness of her tongue, to explore every curve of her body with his hands and his mouth.

He didn’t want to hide his glances in her direction. He wanted her to know what she did to him, to never doubt his ardor for a moment. But he could not indulge those desires.

A decorated bonnet was the most he could give.

17

The door to the Wynchester family coach was flung open and a blur of jangling brass soared inside.

Tommy caught the flying ring of keys with her left hand. “You did it?”

“Of course I did.” Graham leapt inside the carriage and threw himself on the rear-facing seat next to Jacob and the short-tailed field vole in Jacob’s lap. “Have I ever failed to deliver on a promise?”

Chloe cleared her throat. “I seem to recall a certain boiled pudding…”

“Culinary mishaps don’t count!” He laced his fingers behind his neck and leaned back against the carriage wall. “Where to now?”

“Vauxhall? Isn’t there a balloon launch today?” Elizabeth tapped her cane with its hidden blade against Chloe’s basket. “If there’s a blanket in here, we can make a picnic.”

Tommy shook her head. “No blankets, just Great-Aunt Wynchester.”

“Who should accompany me to the Faircliffe residence posthaste,” Chloe said pointedly. “Now that we have our own copy of the keys, we ought to put the originals back in the housekeeper’s chamber before she returns from holiday.”

“Lucky for you, I enjoy being Great-Aunt Wynchester.” Tommy stretched out. “Unluckily for you, the Ainsworth dinner was your last invitation. Until another arrives, you haven’t a pretext for visiting Faircliffe.”

That was indeed the tricky part.

Other than slipping sugar into his tea at Miss York’s reading circle a few days ago, Chloe hadn’t crossed Faircliffe’s path in a week. The reading circle would reconvene again before too long, but that wouldn’t help her to rescue Puck.

Graham leaned forward. “I’ll do it.”

Tommy arched a brow. “You’ll be Great-Aunt Wynchester?”

“I’ll be Icarus, the Flying Fool.” Graham’s brown eyes lit with excitement. “It’s been ages since I put my acrobatics to good use. I won’t need an excuse to knock on the door, because I’ll slip in through an upper window instead.”

“Icarus fell to the earth when his pride tempted him to go too high,” Elizabeth reminded him.

“He flew, didn’t he?” Graham gave an unrepentant shrug. “The Splendiferous Schmidts ran a circus, not an encyclopedia. It was a good name. And this is a good plan.”

“It’s a horrid plan. We can’t risk you getting caught.” Jacob returned his field vole to his lap. “Which is why we should use one of my trained pigeons.”

Chloe covered her face with one hand. “Jacob…”

“Birds are cunning creatures,” he assured her. “Watch this.”

He leaned across Graham to crack open the door’s window, cupped his hands to his mouth, let out a loud, strangling gurgle, then flopped back into his seat in satisfaction.

“What does that do?” Tommy asked. “Call the babies to the nest for a nap?”

All four siblings except Jacob jumped backward when a large hawk filled their view and cracked its beak angrily against the window.

“Pigeon.” Elizabeth fanned her throat. “You said pigeon.”

“This clever girl was closer.” Jacob’s brown hand nuzzled beneath the hawk’s sharp beak. “I fear Hippogriff thinks my vole is dinner.”

“No pigeons, no acrobats, and no feeding voles to hawks in my presence,” Chloe said firmly. “Tommy and I have this under control. Don’t we, Great-Aunt Wynchester?”

“We’ll be under control by the time we arrive.” Tommy pulled her wig out of the basket and started pinning it in place.

“The girls always have all the fun,” Jacob groused.

Elizabeth rapped him with her sword stick. “Women.”

“Women,” he agreed with a sigh.

Tommy grinned at him. “You have no idea.”

Chloe held out a looking glass so her sister could apply her wrinkles.

Jacob cocked his head at Chloe. “Ever since this Faircliffe operation began, all you do is gloom about.”

“Can you blame her?” Graham pulled a face. “She’s forced to feign interest in the most