Free Fortune's Lady by Patricia Gaffney Page A

she didn’t want sanctuary, she wanted a ride home. There weren’t even any chairmen about at this hour, at least not here. She braced a heel against the edge of the bench and massaged a sore foot. Behind her a night bird bleated a monotonous two-note chant. She shivered, wishing she had a shawl. The moon had set behind the roofs of the houses; there was nothing left of it but a milky blotch among the occasional drifting clouds.
    She had two choices. She could stay where she was all night, and at dawn she could set out to find a carriage. Or she could go west now toward lights and noise and people, and find a carriage. A third alternative suggested itself: she could return to the Clarion Club and see if by some miraculous chance Freddy was still there. This idea seemed so unlikely that she abandoned it and went back to the first two. Neither appealed to her. But staying here all night struck her as cowardly, so she chose the second. She dusted off her hands and stood up.
    Glory be to God, a carriage! It was clattering toward her at top speed, but elation turned to alarm when it occurred to her Riordan might be inside. It was too late to run now. Her white dress was like a signal beacon; the driver began reining in the horses as soon as he saw her. The hackney had barely stopped when the door opened and a man jumped down. She relaxed slightly. It wasn’t Riordan, it was an older man. Tall and very thin, with stooped shoulders and a—all at once she recognized Oliver Quinn. She stood stock-still and waited for him.
    â€œMiss Merlin, please get in the carriage.”
    No “Thank God you’re safe!” or “I’m so sorry this happened,” just a sharp, ungracious order. If her shoes had had heels, she’d have dug them in. “I prefer to walk,” she told him icily.
    â€œWalk! Don’t be absurd, it’s not safe. You could be attacked.”
    â€œYou should have thought of that before you set your hired rapist on me.”
    Some emotion swept across his stern, priest-like visage, but she couldn’t tell in the dimness whether it was anger, embarrassment, or amusement. After a pause he said stiffly, “I apologize for what happened tonight. It was not planned that way.”
    She shook her head in disgust, then stared without seeing down the black street. An inadequate apology if she’d ever heard one, but it would have to do. She’d never had any real intention of refusing to go with him. “Very well, you may take me home.”
    He took her arm in a civil grasp and helped her into the coach. They set off, and after a few minutes of stony silence Cassandra decided she would wait for him to speak first no matter how long it took; they could ride all the way to Holborn before she’d give him the satisfaction of opening the subject that was so patently on their minds. After a full five minutes, her patience was rewarded.
    â€œI tell you again, I sincerely regret the events of this evening,” he said after clearing his throat a time or two. “Things weren’t supposed to go so far. Mr. Riordan ought to have revealed his identity sooner, there’s no question about that. I can’t excuse his—”
    â€œMr. Quinn, our bargain is over.”
    His mouth dropped open in surprise. “What?”
    â€œWell, what did you expect?” she demanded angrily. “You lied to me and played a despicable trick on me, for reasons I can’t begin to fathom.”
    â€œI can explain.”
    â€œI’m not interested in your explanation. I only want to be rid of you and your—colleague.” She spat the word venomously.
    â€œPlease listen. It was necessary to do what we did in order to test your loyalty. We had no idea whether—”
    â€œTest my loyalty!”
    â€œâ€”you could be trusted to—”
    â€œMy loyalty !” Her fists clenched in impotent fury. “How dare you? There’s no one more