“You know as well as I that a reputation is based purely upon what is perceived rather than any reality. You’ve made Miss Greaves a fallen woman. By her very presence she soils all ladies around her.”
“Bathilda!” Maximus’s warning was a growl.
Artemis couldn’t help a small gasp at the same time. She’d known what she was now, but to have it so bluntly stated by someone she’d considered a friend was still shocking.
Miss Picklewood turned to Artemis for the first time. Her face was determined, but her eyes were sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I did warn you, my dear.”
Artemis nodded, ignoring Maximus’s glower. “So you did.”
“You need to leave.”
Artemis held the other woman’s gaze. “And I will. But tomorrow night Phoebe has her heart set on seeing the opera at Harte’s Folly with the other ladies from the Ladies’ Syndicate. She’ll be upset if I don’t attend.”
Miss Picklewood frowned.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Bathilda,” Maximus ground out. “One day more won’t taint Phoebe.”
Miss Picklewood’s lips pursed. “Very well. I expect one day won’t make any difference. Attend Harte’s Folly and then, my dear, it must be over.”
Artemis glanced at Maximus. He had his face turned, his teeth clenched so tightly she could see the muscle flex in his jaw. Their affair wouldn’t be over—he’d offered her a house—but she supposed as far as Miss Picklewood was concerned it didn’t matter as long as she was hidden away.
Artemis rose from the table, not looking at Maximus again. “You needn’t say anything more, Miss Picklewood, for you’re quite right. I can’t stay here with Phoebe. If you’ll both excuse me, I’ll go begin packing.”
She walked to the door of the dining room with her head held high, but she still couldn’t help the small sob when she closed the door without anyone protesting.
IT WAS LATE when the door to the cellar opened. Apollo didn’t bother turning. He’d already been served his supper by the valet. Now he simply lay on his back, his arm thrown across his eyes and dozed.
But the footsteps that approached his bed were lighter than a man’s.
“Apollo.”
Artemis stood over him with a cloth bag in her hands.
He sat up.
“We have to hurry,” she said as she dropped the bag to the ground beside his cot. The bag clanked.
She bent and took out a mallet and a chisel. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find these. I finally asked one of the stable boys and voila.”
She looked inordinately pleased for a woman who was risking herself for him. He scowled and wished he could swear. God damn it. Wakefield had seduced her—he knew it—and now she was going to risk the duke’s wrath. Where would that leave her if that bastard decided to throw her out?
“Well?” She set her hands on her hips. “I certainly can’t do it.”
He grabbed his notebook and wrote in it before thrusting it at her. She took the notebook, and he picked up the chisel and set it on the first link in the chain that dropped to the floor from the circlet around his ankle.
“Won’t the duke punish you?” Artemis read aloud.
He struck the chisel with a ringing clang.
Artemis lowered the notebook to look at him with exasperation. “No, of course not. You’ve been reading too many of those lurid pamphlets I used to bring you in Bedlam. I’m not even sure the stories they report are real. In any case, Maximus might be quite cross with me, but he’d hardly punish me. Really. The thought.”
He hit the chisel again before giving her a speaking glance and mouthed, pointedly, Maximus?
“I’ve already told you he’s a friend.”
He rolled his eyes. Artemis was lying to him for that bastard. He wished the duke’s skull was beneath the mallet. He struck the chisel for a third time as hard as he could. The link broke open.
“Oh, well done!” Artemis exclaimed and bent to help him work the broken link from the two still attached to the manacle around his ankle. “You’ll have to wrap that with a cloth or something so it doesn’t clink. I brought clothes.” She gestured to the bag.
He took the notebook from her and wrote, Why now?
She read his words and her face went carefully blank just before she smiled and looked back up at him. “I’ll be leaving Wakefield House soon and I wanted to make sure you were free before I go.”
Why was she leaving? What else was going on? Silently he mouthed, “Artemis.”
She pretended not to see. “Hurry up and get dressed.”
Troubled by her haste and his unanswered questions, he obeyed. He’d been given breeches and a shirt by the valet. Now he changed into the fresh clothes, which also included a waistcoat, coat, and shoes.
Everything was just a bit too small, including the shoes.
Artemis looked at him apologetically. “I got them from one of the footmen. He had the largest feet in the household.”
Apollo shook his head, smiling for her, and bent to kiss his sister. He had nothing save what she’d given him. He grabbed up the notebook and wrote, How will I contact you?
She stared at the notebook for a moment, and he could tell by her expression that she hadn’t thought of that.
He took back the notebook. Artemis. We must stay in touch. You’re all that I have now and I don’t trust your duke. At all.
“Well that’s just silly, the part about Maximus,” she said when she’d read what he’d written. “But you’re right—we mustn’t lose each other. Do you know where you can go from here?”
He’d been thinking on the matter as he lay in the cot for days and he had a ready answer of sorts. He wrote carefully, I have a friend by the name of Asa Makepeace. You may send a letter in care of him to Harte’s Folly.
He gave the notebook to her and saw when her eyes widened in astonishment. “Harte’s Folly? I don’t understand. Is that where you’ll go?”
He shook his head, gently taking the notebook from her hands. Better you don’t know.
She was reading over his shoulder. “But—”
Take care of yourself.
He thought he saw her smile waver when she read it, then she was hugging him tightly. “You’re the one who needs to take care of yourself. Your escape is still all the news. They’ll be searching for you.” She drew back to look at him, and to his consternation he saw that she had tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”