Free Devil's Match by Anita Mills Page A

go?”
    â€œI wouldn’t be using that tone around him if I was you,” the butler warned, “for he’s not in the best of tempers, I can tell you. And don’t be asking foolish questions neither, ’cause I’ve not got the answers.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œ ‘Tell Jenkins to pack for France—I leave within the hour.’ Them’s his exact words, my good fellow—and that’s all I know. Now, I have to find Barnes.”
    â€œShould have stayed with Tillotson,” the valet grumbled. “He wasn’t given to queer starts. France! I hate the Frenchies—bunch of babblin’ fools! And I don’t suppose he said what he wanted to wear, did he? No, of course he did not!” he answered himself. “Humph!”
    At almost that same moment, Albert Bascombe’s other letter was being discovered some six blocks away at the Canfield residence. Caroline’s absence had already been remarked, and Juliana, to avoid further conflict between her companion and her mother, had contrived to explain that Caro had been called away to her godmother’s bedside. When questioned at length by Lady Lenore, she had invented in great detail the nature of the godmother’s illness, but alas, could not exactly remember the lady’s name. Thus, when Thomas, the footman, let it be known that Mr. Bascombe had sent a message, Juliana wasted no time in pocketing it and slipping away to her room, where, to her dismay, she found she could not read it. Since it was by then quite dark, she was becoming increasingly apprehensive about Caroline’s whereabouts, so much so that she pleaded the headache to escape accompanying Lady Lenore to a select musicale at the Harringtons’.
    Her mother surveyed her shrewdly, decided that she did look a trifle peaked, and thereupon bundled her off to bed. Pastilles were burned and her room was darkened to alleviate her headache before Lady Lenore left. But as soon as she heard the carriage leave the drive, Juliana wrapped herself in one of the downstairs maids’ cloaks and slipped out the servants’ door in search of Patrick.
    By the light of day the six blocks did not seem so long, but in the dark they were quite another matter. Juliana drew the cloak closer and let the hood slip down to hide her face. Keeping her head low, she stayed to the inside away from the street and walked briskly. As usual, the night was misty from the spring rains, and she expected the damp fog to ensure her anonymity.
    â€œ ’Ere, ’ere—wot’s this? Eh, Billy, ‘hit’s a Lunnon dove!” someone called out.
    â€œB’leve yer got th’ bloody right o’ hit, yer has,” a drunken companion agreed. “ ’Ere, lovey—let’s ’ave a look ter yer.”
    Alarmed, Juliana walked faster, only to hear the thud of footsteps behind her. She pulled away as bold hands grasped the cloak and it came off to expose her fashionably cropped blond curls and her blue crepe walking dress under a lantern.
    â€œGor! Yer ever see th’ likes o’ this, Billy?”
    â€œTake your hands off me,” Juliana ordered with a bravado she did not feel. “I’ll call the watch.”
    â€œYer ’ear ’er? She’ll call th’ watch!” the other one guffawed. “And th’ watch be tippin’ a pint somewheres, Oy wager! ’Ere—let’s ’ave a peep, Oy say!”
    â€œMy father is Maximillian Canfield—Sir Maximillian Canfield—and he’ll have you arrested … or transported. He will! Don’t you dare touch me!”
    One of the men grasped her chin and tilted her head to the lantern light. Juliana bobbed slightly and sank her teeth into the soft fatty tissue between his thumb and forefinger. He howled in pain and released her to shake his hand. The other fellow caught her from behind and slid an arm around her neck. She stomped his foot