A Gift for Fiona by Suzanne G. Rogers

Author:Suzanne G. Rogers
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-03-03T18:30:00+00:00

“Good night, Colleen.” Iris sat on her bed, clad in nightdress and wrapper. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Miss Braithwaite. Sleep well.”

As soon as the maid left, Iris sprang into action. First came the farewell letter she’d leave for her father. She’d been composing it all afternoon in her head, but hadn’t dared commit the words to paper lest the letter be discovered too early. After she’d written it, she was surprised at its short length…but what else was there to say? The letter ended with her promising to write once she and Moordale had married, with the expectation her father would invite them to return to London. Once confronted with the reality of the situation, her father couldn’t fail to welcome the newlyweds with open arms. In addition, Rory would be forced to be gracious because as the wife of a peer, she’d outrank him!

After sealing the envelope, Iris arranged it on her pillow for Colleen to find the following morning. Next, she stripped off her nightclothes and dressed herself in two pairs of everything wherever possible. Until Moordale took her shopping, she’d have to look presentable in what she could smuggle out of the house. Although she was rather warm bundled up, it couldn’t be helped. Her carpetbag was stuffed to bursting with her belongings—purloined and otherwise—and couldn’t hold anything else.

At the appointed hour, Iris snuffed out her oil lamp, opened her door, and felt her way down the hall in the dark. When she was nearly to the stairs, however, she heard a creak on the floorboard overhead. Frozen with fear, she flattened herself against the wall and held her breath. If caught, how could she possibly explain being fully dressed and clutching a carpetbag full of valuables? Her heart hammered against her chest as she waited to see if she’d been found out. Fortunately, whoever was stirring at that time of night didn’t come down the staircase.

She sucked air into her lungs and crept down the stairs once more, praying she didn’t trip and break her neck. When she reached the entryway, she was glad that the streetlights shining through the glass in the door gave her a little illumination. Wincing at every little noise she made, Iris teased open the hidden drawer in the calling-card table where a spare key to the front door was kept. She was also pleased to discover the butler’s purse—a small leather envelope contained cash used to pay messengers, deliverymen, and cabs. Glade would be vexed to find it missing, but her need was greater. She pocketed the money, unlocked the door, and eased out into the night.

Moordale, looking as dashing as ever, was waiting for her next to a grand carriage. Without a word, he whisked her and her bag into the cab and signaled the driver to drive on.

Iris giggled as she threw her arms around his neck. “This is so exciting!”

He patted her back. “Yes, it is.”

“Well, kiss me!”

The rushed peck on the cheek wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, but she supposed a speeding carriage wasn’t conducive to amorousness.

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