Free The Duchess and Desperado by Laurie Grant Page B

to be a parlor. Letting go of her arm, Morgan crossed the room in three rapid strides, took hold of one of the dark, heavy curtains hanging over the window and gave a yank, pulling it down.
    â€œHere, put this around you like a cloak—over your head, too,” he said
    â€œBut...” she began as she pulled the curtain around her.
    The dust rising from it made her sneeze.
    â€œWe’re goin’ out the back way. The dark curtain will make you a little harder to spot in the darkness,” he explained. “Come on.” And then he seemed to notice that she was shaking. “You gotta take hold of yourself, Duchess,” he commanded. “Panic is just what this fella is countin’ on. Just do what I tell you, and we’ll come outa this okay.”
    She nodded, braced by his certainty, and determined not to appear a frightened mouse in Morgan Calhoun’s eyes.
    Moments later she was running with him across the darkened back lawn, clutching her makeshift cloak at her neck and holding Calhoun’s hand with her other one to keep herself from falling. His hand felt warm and strong. He clutched a pistol in his other hand.
    He found the gate into the alley, and pulled her after him into the dark passageway.
    â€œWe’ll take it slow from here, Duchess,” he whispered. “Try and walk quiet”
    No matter how quietly she walked, though, Sarah was sure any pursuer could hear her panting like a winded fox. She knew how that fox would feel, hearing the dogs come closer and closer She’d never ride to hounds again.
    He paused when he came to the gate to another yard down the alley. “We’ll cut through here.”
    This yard was more uneven than the governor’s, and she stumbled, going down heavily on one knee. She heard the fabric rip, and a stinging pain shot through her knee.
    Calhoun pulled her to her feet without comment, and they continued on around the side of a darkened house. There was a tall tree with low-hanging boughs on the front lawn, and he pulled her into the deeper darkness against its broad trunk.
    â€œWe’ll wait here for your driver,” he whispered.
    â€œWhat if he doesn’t come?” she whispered back, straining to see his face in the darkness. Ben might not believe that Wharton had really come from her, and might insist on speaking to her or her uncle personally.
    â€œThen eventually we’ll have to walk back to the hotel,” he told her. “But I reckon the wild eyes on that jackass Wharton will convince him.”
    His contemptuous tone ignited her anger, burning away her traces of fear. “How dare you speak of a gentleman like that? And what about you? I saw you standing there all cozy with his bold-eyed tart of a sister when you should have been—”
    â€œShould have been what, Duchess?” he demanded. She could barely make out his eyes glittering in the darkness. “You wanted me to leave you alone, remember?”
    She was silent, trying to rein in her temper. Her heart felt as if it was pounding in her ears. “I—I just won’t have you speaking of Mr. Wharton like that. He—he was very pleasant company, that’s all.” She could feel him staring at her in the darkness.
    â€œYou’re the boss ”
    â€œIndeed.” She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of protesting too much, but pleasant company was all Wharton had been. He’d been entertaining and complimentary and clearly awed to be speaking to a duchess. And he was one of the few men she’d met this evening who hadn’t been staring down the front of her dress, asking sly questions about her wealth, or offering to be her duke, as if that were possible. She hadn’t felt any tug of attraction to Wharton, though she’d agreed when he’d asked to escort her to the theater.
    It wasn’t as if she were looking for an American man to replace Thierry, she assured herself. And it