the table toward the door, barely able to keep up with his long strides. A maid swept by the passageway, and Bacchus barked, “See a carriage pulled around immediately and ensure Miss Camden is taken care of.”
His presence and his baritone emanated both authority and restrained rage, and the maid didn’t hesitate to respond. “O-Of course. Miss Camden.” She curtsied and, abandoning whatever chore she was about, quickly led Elsie to a cushioned bench in the vestibule by the front door. Meanwhile, Bacchus burst up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time.
The maid bolted in the other direction.
Elsie let out a long breath as she lowered herself onto the bench. This was not how she had expected the evening to go. Peering up at the stairs, she longed to follow Bacchus, to see if he was all right. But of course that was silly. He wasn’t all right. Why would he be? The duke’s revelation had made everything a thousandfold worse. Bacchus’s own father had betrayed him.
She twiddled her thumbs, uneasy. What if one of the family stopped by? What would she say? It was obvious she had told Bacchus about the spell. Surely they’d never want to see her again. Perhaps she should start walking home. Let the carriage catch up, or see if she could find a cab farther into the city. It was raining—pouring, really—but a cold wouldn’t kill her, now would it?
Embarrassment might.
She was just about to rise from the bench when she heard the heavy clamor of hooves outside. A moment later, a man in a very wet driver’s uniform burst in. “Miss Camden? I’m ready for you.”
She nodded and followed him out. A heavy black carriage awaited her, pulled by four horses. An awful lot for a single person, but she wasn’t about to complain—it had a roof. Holding her hands over her head as though they could protect her from the downpour, Elsie hurried to it, grateful for the driver’s assistance as he opened the door. He was so swift he nearly closed it on her skirt.
Leaning back on the bench, she blew a damp curl from her face. What would happen now? Surely Bacchus wouldn’t continue to stay with the duke and duchess. Would he want to return to Barbados? And if so, what would it mean for their plans? She didn’t truly think he would leave her to the magistrate—to the jailers—but her hand moved to her neck at the thought of hanging. Emmeline’s pearls offered a sliver of comfort.
The carriage rocked as the driver took his seat, but before the horses could pull forward, her door ripped open, shooting a cold, wet gust her way. To her surprise, Bacchus stepped in and sat across from her, slamming the door shut behind him. The carriage dipped once more as someone secured a trunk to its back.
“I’m coming with you,” Bacchus announced, and banged his fist on the carriage roof.
CHAPTER 10
“We’re making a detour,” he added as the carriage pulled down the drive. Elsie glanced out the window at the darkening estate, but didn’t see any of the family.
“Detour?” she asked.
“Master Hill once offered me a room in her home,” he explained, pulling the tie from his hair and leaning back against the wall behind him. “I’m going to accept it.”
“At this hour?”
Bacchus didn’t reply.
Elsie worried her hands. Hadn’t she brought gloves with her? Had she left them inside? “Will . . . Will the duke be all right with you taking his carriage?”
Folding his arms, he answered, “He won’t stop me.”
She swallowed. “And . . . your men?” John and . . . Rainer, wasn’t it?
“They have instructions to follow.”
She turned the ring around on her finger. “I’m sorry, Bacchus. I was hoping it was something else.”
Bacchus relaxed into his bench. “I was as well. But I was prepared for it not to be.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out two lace gloves, folding them in half before handing them to Elsie. “I believe these are yours.”
Her lips parted as she took them, their fingers just brushing. Such a simple, silly thing, but it got her pulse hurrying along well enough. “Thank you. That was considerate of you.” She set them on her lap.
They rode for some time in silence, heading into London. Elsie glanced outside, seeing nothing beyond the rain pelting the window. “How much of that trunk did you pack?”
“About half.”
“Leave it to a man to be able to throw his things together and travel