The Valet Who Loved Me - Valerie Bowman Page 0,63

and Marianne over to the duke’s town house.

Now, standing at Beau’s side on the stoop, Marianne seemed uncertain about banging on the door of such a prestigious-looking town house in such a notable part of Mayfair at this hour of the morning.

“If you’re quite certain about this,” she whispered just before Beau began knocking.

“I’m entirely certain,” he replied. “Worth is a good friend of mine.” He cleared his throat. “Ahem, the Duke of Worthington, I mean.”

Marianne’s eyes went wide. “We’re in front of a duke’s door!” she cried, as her voice went up an octave.

“Yes, don’t worry. Leave everything to me,” Beau replied in a perfectly calm tone.

But when the sleepy-looking butler, Lawson, finally pulled open Worth’s door, Beau didn’t hesitate. “I need to speak to Lord Worthington,” Beau thundered, “immediately.”

Stolidly, the butler replied, “His Grace is asleep at the moment. What time is it?”

It might have been somewhere around three o’clock in the morning—Beau wasn’t entirely certain—but he didn’t give a bloody damn. This was important.

“I don’t care what time it is, let me in,” Beau replied, leaning forward, ready to use force against the man to gain entrance, if necessary.

“My master is asleep, my lord,” Lawson repeated. “I will tell him you were here.”

The fool was about to close the door—and Beau was about to push his boot against it and sock the sop in the jaw—when Worth’s voice sounded from somewhere in the foyer. “It’s all right, Lawson. Let him in.”

Finally, Lawson stepped aside and opened the door wide enough to allow Beau entry. The butler even had the audacity to bow to him.

Beau marched inside, pulling Marianne along with him.

Worth was standing at the bottom of the balustrade. The duke blinked at them. “Care to tell me why you’re here at this hour, Bell?”

Beau kept his face blank. There was little time for explanation. “We’ve found the Bidassoa traitor. We need to leave for France immediately, and we need your help.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

As it turned out, the Duke of Worthington owned some ships. Not just some ships—more accurately, a fleet of ships—and Beau hoped that, despite the blockade, the man had enough clout to get him and Marianne onto one of them that was headed to France, in the middle of the night.

Marianne waited in a large, comfortable chair in the duke’s study, while Lady Julianna Montgomery, who had apparently spent the night with the duke, brought her a blanket and a cup of hot tea. Marianne wasn’t about to judge either of them. She had no right to do so. And at any rate, the couple seemed to be very much in love.

Marianne had noticed Beau exchange a glance with the duke when Julianna had appeared. Worthington had merely shrugged before announcing that he and Julianna were betrothed.

The men worked out the details of the expedition while Lady Julianna was kind enough to remain quiet and not pepper Marianne with questions.

After the arrangements had been made, Beau and Marianne returned to Lord Copperpot’s town house in the wee hours of the morning.

Beau drafted a letter for Lord Copperpot, informing the man that he had to leave immediately due to an unexpected illness in his family. He assured his former master that Mr. Broughton had already been sent for. Grimaldi had seen to that.

Marianne wrote a similar letter for Lady Wilhelmina. If she hadn’t come to precisely like the young woman, at least she’d come to worry about her. Grimaldi had promised to ensure a suitable lady’s maid would be found for her as well.

Marianne and Beau waited in the servants’ hall beneath the staircase until they heard a footman come downstairs to indicate that Baron Winfield had ordered his coach put to. Apparently, the good baron wanted a ride to the docks.

As soon as Baron Winfield and Albina drove off, Marianne and Beau rushed across the roadway and hopped into a coach that General Grimaldi had ordered for them, waiting across the street.

The coachman gave them a letter from Grimaldi, which Beau promptly ripped open and Marianne read over his shoulder.

* * *

Agents M&B,

We’ve learned which ship they’re taking. It’s one of Worthington’s—the same one you’ll be traveling on as well. Stay in your cabin. Pretend you’re a married couple.

G

* * *

They both remained silent for the remainder of the ride to the docks, while visions of all the things that could go wrong spun themselves through Marianne’s brain. She’d never left England before on a mission. She’d never left England before at all. To date,