Free Countess of Scandal by Laurel McKee Page B

her and her "high spirits" and not let her independence fly out of control, as Eliza's had. It seemed that plan would meet with no success, for she cared for none of her respectable suitors.
    "I am just a bit tired," Eliza said. "I think it is time we departed."
    For once, her sister made no protest at leaving so early. "Of course," she said, going along quietly as they reclaimed their wraps and sent for the carriage.
    As they jostled through the empty streets, Eliza gazed out the window, wrapped up in thoughts of Will, just as when they had arrived. She could feel their old bond tightening again. Something in their hearts still called out to each other, a soft, irresistible whisper.
    But it was too late. They had chosen their paths, and they were separate ones, indeed.
    "It was good to see you smile again tonight, Eliza," Anna said.
    Eliza took her sister's hand. "Have I been so dour of late?"
    "Perhaps just a bit. But it is hardly a wonder. Everyone behaves so oddly these days. Yet, Will Denton made you smile."
    Was it so obvious, then, that irresistible seed of old happiness she felt when she was with him? She would have to be much more careful in the future.
    "It is pleasant to see him again after so long," she admitted.
    "Yes. I am sure that is all there is to it."
    Was that sarcasm in Anna's voice? Eliza studied her sister's angelic face in the moonlight, but Anna just smiled.
    The carriage halted at their own front door, light shining faintly from the fanlight The house seemed quiet, almost deserted. Mr. O'Connor had gone, slipping away from the cellar before dawn to head for France to avoid arrest and plead for French allies. One task accomplished. Yet, another always awaited.
    "You go ahead, Anna," Eliza said. "I have a quick errand."
    "At this time of night?" her sister cried.
    "I shan't be gone long," Eliza answered soothingly.
    "But the patrols!"
    "They won't bother me, not while I'm in my own carriage."
    She could see that her sister wanted to argue, maybe insist on coming along. Finally, Anna nodded and let the footman help her from the carriage. "Be careful, Eliza."
    "Of course I will," Eliza said, blowing her a kiss. Once the front door was safely shut and the house quiet again, she told the coachman, "One twenty Green Street, please, John."
    Green Street was the site of a respectable-looking coffeehouse. Eliza left the servants with the carriage a few doors down, drawing her cloak's hood close around her face as she hurried past the sparsely filled tables, through the warm coffee- and spice-scented air. The proprietor behind the counter paid her no mind.
    She went through a door at the back and up a narrow, creaking flight of stairs. At the top was a landing with one door made of stout wooden planks with sturdy new iron fittings. It smelled of coffee even there—coffee, lilac perfume, and fear.
    She knocked twice in quick succession, then twice slowly. She held her breath as she listened carefully to any sign of movement behind that door.
    At last there was a thump, a squeal as the lock was peeled back. The door was opened a crack, and a woman's pale face, framed with a cloud of dark hair, peeked out cautiously.
    "Eliza!" she cried, her voice heavy with a French accent "You are here."
    She opened the door wider, letting Eliza slip inside before shutting and locking it again. The chamber was small, windowless, and cold, lit only with a branch of candles on the one table, which also held wine bottles and the remains of supper. An open traveling case spilled clothes and papers onto the floor, and on the bed slept a little girl under a pile of quilts.
    "Of course I am here," Eliza said, embracing the woman, who was heavily pregnant under her black muslin gown, her pretty oval face shadowed with exhaustion. Pamela Fitzgerald looked like she would give birth any day—without her husband nearby and no family. Her husband, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, son of the Duke and Duchess of Leinster and leader of the United