Free Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman by Ginny Hartman Page A

lord.”
    “Yes.” Lord Grayson bit out acidly. “I've kept my end of our bargain, if you can call it that. My question is, do you plan on keeping yours?”
    The man managed to look at him with a shrewd combination of innocence and surprise, “Of course. Surely you do not doubt that I am a man of my word, do you?”
    “All I'm saying is that, if anyone gather's wind about me and...”
    “Your latest paramour?” The man asked, amused by Lord Grayson's discomfort.
    “Yes, if my wife hears anything or even so much as suspects that something is going on, I won't hesitate to let this,” He waved one hand towards the pocket where the man now held the money, “become common knowledge as well.”
    “You do not need to worry. As long as you continue to do your job, you have nothing to fear.”
    Lord Grayson snorted. He wasn't so sure about that. The man was not to be trusted—not by his closest friends, not by his business associates, not even by his own family. He was cunning and shrewd and had a way of expertly manipulating people into getting whatever he wanted, usually by means of blackmailing them, like he was doing now.
    “Will that be all then?” Lord Grayson asked, anxious to be on his way. His mistress was expecting him.
    “One more thing. I want you to make sure, very sure, that you're being careful not to do anything that might give my identity away. If Lord Brattondale found out I was behind all of this, he'd be furious.”
    “I can't imagine why,” Lord Grayson retorted caustically.
    “And,” the man said, ignoring his comment and rising to his feet, “if my wife hears even an inkling of this, you will be a ruined man. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Perfectly.”
    ***
    Devon waited impatiently for his driver to bring his carriage around. He was practically jumping inside before the carriage could even come to a complete halt, barking out orders for his driver to take him to his townhouse posthaste. He was grateful beyond relief that the evening's festivities had been located such a short distance to his residence. He wasn't sure he could carry out his mission otherwise.
    As soon as the carriage pulled up in front of the house, Devon had opened the door and dashed straight inside. He didn't even bother greeting the butler; he was in too much of a hurry. Once inside his room, he dropped to the floor next to his bed and slithered underneath to retrieve the satchel that held his Black Lightening attire. He had two sets of clothes. One set he kept at the cottage at Westbrooke Hall, and this set he kept here in London. He went to great pains to keep it hidden so his valet or one of the maids wouldn't discover it and become curious. The last thing he needed was nosy servants prying into his business.
    He quickly donned the outfit before tying the black mask around his face and placing the tricorn hat atop his head. He felt momentarily guilty for discarding his clothes so haphazardly on the floor, but there wasn't time for him to concern himself with picking them up, if he wanted to ensure he made it back to the Edward's in time to catch Lord Grayson leaving the party.
    Walking over to the sole window in the room, he heaved it open. He peeked out surreptitiously, making sure nobody was around so he could slip out undetected. He was grateful that his room faced the back of the house and the mews instead of the street running along the front of the house. Hoisting his body out of the window, he held on tightly to the ledge, as his booted feet found the frame of the door beneath him. The ledge was small but just big enough to hold him, while he got his bearings, and he could then jump down the final story to the ground beneath.
    He landed in a crouching position on the ground, nearly knocking the wind out of his lungs. He remembered the first time he had attempted an escape from his room in his youth and had ended up with a sprained ankle as a result. Thankfully, he had learned how to brace himself for the fall