Free The Duchess and Desperado by Laurie Grant Page A

way to the roof. He was dressed in black from head to foot. Even the barrel of his Winchester rifle had been rubbed with grease and then coated with soot so as not to give off a betraying gleam.
    He’d taken up his position on the roof long before the duchess had arrived. He could have shot her as she strolled into the house with her uncle and that watchdog she’d hired, but he’d decided it was too risky. There were a lot of people outside, and someone might have seen the flash from the muzzle of his rifle when he fired. He’d decided to wait until the duchess took the air out on the balcony or on the porch, but that hadn’t taken place yet, either. Maybe her watchdog had warned her against it. But it wouldn’t save her. He had a contingency plan already in place.
    He pulled a pocket watch out and studied its face by the light of the full moon. Any moment now the duchess would come rushing out the door with her entourage, and their faces would reflect the panic they felt inside. Panicked people were easy targets.
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    â€œMr. Calhoun, we’ve got to leave. Immediately!”
    The duchess was suddenly standing in front of him, white-faced and trembling. Wharton was standing by her side, looking as if his genial composure had permanently deserted him.
    Morgan had been sipping whiskey by a potted aspidistra with Helen Wharton, who had rejoined him, apparently not minding that he had challenged her brother He had felt his knotted-up gut relax under the influence of her pleasant chatter and the mellow amber liquid.
    It took him a few seconds to refocus. “What’s wrong, Duchess?”
    She was trembling like an aspen in the wind. “Show him, Mr. Wharton ”
    The other man reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. “This was just delivered by a servant who claims to have been paid by a stranger to deliver it at half after ten.”
    Morgan unfolded the note, feeling the knot reforming in his gut. It said “HAVIN A GOOD TIME DUCHISS? SOON YOUL BE IN YER GRAVE A PATRIOTT.”

Chapter Seven
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    â€œY eah, we’ve got to leave, but careful-like,” Morgan said, suddenly all business. “Where’s Lord Halston?”
    Suddenly it seemed as if there was little air in the room. None of the blurry figures standing around the room looked like the familiar figure of her uncle. “I don’t know! But we’ve got to find him, and I must say my farewell to the governor! It would be rude not to thank Mr. McCook—”
    â€œThere’s no time for those things. We’ll send the carnage back for your uncle. I don’t want anyone else knowin’ we’re leavin’, Duchess,” he said in a low voice. “Wharton, go out and find the duchess’s driver. He should be standing by a landau with a matched pair of grays. Talk loud—say that the duchess and her party are gonna stay the night, and she wants him to go on back to the hotel. Then whisper that he’s to wait about midway down the street behind this one. We’ll find our way to him. And don’t tell anyone else what we’re doing.”
    Wharton blinked, and Sarah was reminded of an owl. “I will, but wait for me here. I’m coming with you to make sure the duchess is safe.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Wharton,” Sarah breathed. “It’s very good of you—”
    Morgan interrupted, saying, “Just go do what I told you, Wharton.”
    As soon as Wharton had disappeared, Morgan’s hand was on her elbow, propelling her toward the staircase. “Come on, Duchess, this way,” he said
    â€œBut we were going to wait for Mr Wharton!” she protested as Calhoun pulled her down the carpeted staircase.
    â€œNo.” They reached the bottom, and he steered her down a darkened hallway that apparently led to the rear of the house. Coming to a door, he opened it and pulled her inside.
    It appeared