The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,91

persona of Iz. She would not be discovered. Her plan was simple. She would go to the address. If Winter was in trouble, she’d help him if she could, and then ride for assistance. And if he wasn’t, they’d return home, no worse for wear.

Easy as pie.

Pinning her lips, she tugged on her breeches and pulled on a ratty linen shirt, foregoing the usual binding of her breasts in wide bands of linen. She didn’t have time. The brown waistcoat and coat would have to do. A tweed cap hid her blond curls. Some soot from the fireplace smudged on her cheeks, neck, and brow completed the look. Within minutes of arriving in her chambers, she’d gone from lady to lad, from upper-class to urchin.

“There,” she said to her worried friends. “No one will recognize me. I’ll be in and out before you know it.”

Molly pursed her lips, frowning hard. “Can’t we say anything to stop you?”

“No.”

Dismissing the maids, Isobel walked over to her wardrobe and removed a case, whereupon she expertly loaded two pistols with shot and tucked them into her coat pockets.

“Isobel—” Clarissa began.

“It’s only as a precaution, don’t fret.”

But she could see that Clarissa and the twins were truly frightened. Their faces were ashen. “This isn’t Chelmsford, Izzy,” Violet whispered.

“I know and I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Isobel took the stairs two at a time, skidding into the courtyard and hollering for Randolph to saddle Hellion. The poor mare must be confused by all the times she’d been saddled and unsaddled, but it couldn’t be helped. For a moment, Isobel debated on taking another horse, but she knew she could depend on the mare. If things went south and she needed a fast mount, Hellion was the only steed she trusted to carry her safely.

“My lady,” Randolph rebuked gently upon seeing her unladylike attire. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue to—”

Isobel held up a palm and took hold of the bridle.

“No, Randolph,” she said. “I will stop you there. While I understand your concerns, I am mistress here, and you cannot presume to allow me anything. Understood?” He ducked his head but nodded. “Now switch the saddle and please be quick about it. No need for a sidesaddle. I’ll ride astride.”

Randolph did as commanded, though his face remained tight with disapproval. As she climbed into the saddle, Isobel recognized it as worry for her safety and she relented. “Tell Lord Oliver and His Grace that I’ve gone to look for the marquess.”

“My lady—”

Without waiting to hear what he had to say, Isobel took to the streets of London as fast as she dared, body braced over her muscled mare.

She wasn’t as familiar with the roads once she got to Covent Garden, but she tried to recall the path she’d traveled when she’d followed Winter. Her eyes latched onto Drury Lane, the main street that was etched into the stone of one building. If she followed that, she should come to Russell Street.

She blinked as her momentary hesitation and Hellion’s irritated posturing caught the attention of several men stumbling out of a pub. Damn and blast. She hadn’t meant to draw notice, but they were staring at the mare, their eyes going wide with appreciation. No amount of dust could disguise the horse’s pedigree and champion bloodlines. And the tack on the horse would cost more than what many of these men would see in a year.

“Oy, lad, where’d ya get that ’orse? He’s a fine piece, innit.”

Isobel held her ground as they wobbled closer on unsteady feet. “Stole it from a toff,” she said, making her voice sound as gravelly as she could.

The second man cackled. “A wee lad like you?”

“Aye,” she asked. “Where’s Russell Street?”

“Come closer, and we’ll tell it ta ya,” one man slurred, his gaze fastening to her stockinged leg hooked into the stirrup strap with an intensity she didn’t like. These toads wouldn’t help her. Recalling Clarissa’s warnings, she swallowed hard and urged the horse into a gallop with the barest press of her thighs. Luckily, Hellion was well trained and took off.

“Wait, boy! Come back.”

But there was no chance of that. Those men did not have any good intentions, she could sense it on them. Guiding the mare down Drury Lane, once she’d put some distance between her and the pub, she searched for any sign of Winter’s horse, but instead, had the distinct feeling she’d just gone in circle. God, this was impossible. It was like an untidy warren