Free Seducing the Heiress by Olivia Drake Page A

miniature.
     
Lindsey was consulting her pocket watch, angling the face
to the dim light of the moon. “He’s supposed to be there at midnight. That’s
precisely nine minutes from now, so there’s no time to waste. Come, let’s find a
way inside.”
     
“What?” Alarmed, Portia grabbed her sister’s arm to drag her
back into the shadows. “You’re not going in with me. We agreed you’re to wait in
the cab.” The hired hack was parked out of sight at the far end of the
block.
     
“ You agreed, not me. I would never commit myself to any
such craven act.”
     
“This isn’t a game, Linds. I’m handling the matter myself.
And that’s that.”
     
Lindsey’s pouting expression was visible through the
darkness. “I shan’t hide myself away while you brave all manner of danger. Do
you think me a coward, to flee at the merest hint of peril?”
     
Portia’s
agitation faded beneath a rush of fond humor. It was no wonder her sister
relished this act of skullduggery—she read far too many adventure stories. It
was partly Portia’s fault for always fetching her the latest books from the
lending library.
     
Gently, she rubbed her sister’s hands. “Of course you’re not
a coward. It’s only that I’ve already embroiled you in my troubles far more than
I ought.”
     
“Yes, and just so you know, I won’t be a party to your scheme to
marry Arun,” Lindsey declared, sabotaging their brief closeness by pulling away.
“You shouldn’t have kept his miniature in the first place. Then Ratcliffe
wouldn’t have been in a position to steal it.”
     
Portia parted her lips in a
defensive retort, then decided that, given the present circumstances, it might
bewiser to placate her sister. “Yes, well, be that as
it may, there is something you can do to assist me.”
     
“What’s that? Do
you want me to pick the lock?”
     
“No!” How in the world did her sister know of
such things, anyway? “It would be helpful to have someone cry an alarm if the
viscount returns home unexpectedly. If you wait on the side street, you can
observe both the front and the back doors.”
     
Lindsey made a grumbly noise in
her throat. “I’ll be the lookout, if I must. Don’t worry, the villain won’t get
past me.” She took a step away, then turned back, fishing in her reticule before
pressing something into Portia’s hand. “Here, you might need this more than
I.”
     
In consternation, Portia found herself grasping a dainty pistol that fit
easily into her palm. “Where did you get a gun?”
     
But her sister already had
crept off into the gloom. In her dark clothing, Lindsey blended so well with the
shadows that she might have been mistaken for part of the shrubbery. Her sister
had a truly astonishing knack for subterfuge, Portia realized.
     
Now if only
she herself could do as well.
     
She stepped out from under the tree to examine
the pistol by the faint light of the moon. In India she had handled guns for
hunting, although nothing quite so small as this one. After assuring herself it
wouldn’t go off by accident, she gingerly secreted the pistol in the pocket of
her cloak. She couldn’t imagine pointing the weapon at Lord Ratcliffe, let alone
firing it, but at least it made her feel marginally safer.
     
Taking a deep
breath, she glanced up and down the deserted street before heading toward the
mews behind the row of attached houses. According to their plan, it would be
safest for her to make her entry out of sight of any passersby.
     
The stench of dung permeated the alley. There were stables
back here where the genteel residents kept their horses, and sleeping grooms
that she had no wish to awaken. The dense darkness forced her to proceed
carefully lest she trip and fall. When she found the gate and gave it a push,
the hinges squeaked loudly.
     
She froze in place, half expecting someone to
throw up a window sash and yell, “Stop, thief!”
     
But the