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.Rachelle’s grouchy voice did not dissuade her; she only rapped harder.“Rachelle, it’s Bronwyn.” She listened, but heard nothing.“Rachelle, I need to know something.”She knocked again, and finally the door opened.Rachelle’s sleepy glare gave her pause.She took a few deep breaths, but nothing could quench her now.“Forgive me for waking you, but I have to know something.”Rachelle adjusted her nightcap with a yawn.“Such a rush, child,” she rebuked.“I thought I had cured you of that.”“Is Robert Walpole out of London?”“Cherie…” Rachelle groaned.“It’s important.” Fervor returned a bit of her good health, and Bronwyn insisted, “The gossip in the salon last night…did anyone mention Walpole’s return?”Plainly irked, Rachelle snapped, “You expect me to pay heed to the comings and goings of one insignificant man?”“Please?” Bronwyn pleaded.“You remember everything, and Adam says Walpole is going to be prominent.”“So Walpole says, also.He has convinced quite a few people, it seems.” Rachelle closed her eyes and thought.“Walpole came back to the City yesterday and was visited by his financial advisers.”“Why?” Bronwyn’s peace of mind hung in the balance.“They say he has lost money in the South Sea scheme.”“The devil take the man! How dare he fall into their hands so neatly?” Her indignation left Rachelle with open mouth.Making her decision, she said, “I have to find Adam.I’ll go to Change Alley, find Adam, tell him…I’ll make him listen to me.Will you order a sedan chair?”“Of course, ma cherie.” Rachelle eyed her skeptically.“I trust you know what you are doing?”“I haven’t got much choice,” Bronwyn said.“If I don’t tell Adam, Walpole’s life could be in danger.”Rachelle never doubted her.“Send a note to Walpole,” she urged.The fever of alarm touched Bronwyn’s face.“Adam’s life could be in danger.”“Then you must go.I will get you a sedan chair and rouse Gianni to run beside.” Rachelle gave her a push.“Get your cloak.”Bronwyn hurried to the entry and with dismay realized her illness had not yet completely fled.The excitement that drove it from her returned it twofold when she hurried or even moved with too much vigor.Cautiously Bronwyn lifted the maroon velvet from its hook and slipped it on.Her purse contained enough to pay the sedan chair and to bribe those with information of Adam’s whereabouts.There were no other preparations she need make—except to banish this creeping affliction and steel herself for the confrontation with the man she loved.She peered out of the front door and waited.The rain fell with a dreary rhythm.Vapors wafted on dismal breezes.She concentrated on what she would say.“Adam,” she’d say, “I know you think I’m a treacherous hussy.”No.Perhaps she shouldn’t remind him that he thought her treacherous.How about “Adam, I’ve discovered the key to your mystery.”In her mind she fantasized the meeting between her and Adam.They would embrace.They would explain, all would be well….Not even her fertile imagination could see it.More likely Adam would be cold.No one could be colder than he.Even now she could feel the imagined chill of his displeasure.A large covered carriage rolled up and stopped.Painted shiny white, it sported a gilt trim that made it appear big and embarrassingly gaudy.Fashioned of stained glass, each window pictured classical Italian architecture.In size and shape, the coach resembled a traveling Gypsy lodge, yet this type cruised London streets more and more.The South Sea boom had brought such wealth to the common folk that they bought madly, greedily, looking not to practicality, but to ostentation.Eagerly she waited for a glimpse of the guest who rode in such a monstrosity and who visited so early in the morning.No one descended.The coachman leaped down, opened the door, bowed to her without a word.Of course.Rather than a sedan chair, Rachelle had ordered a carriage and had secured one whose owner had already slipped back into the ranks of the impoverished.How kind of Rachelle to consider the effect of the rain.How extravagant.Locking the town house, Bronwyn gave the coachman her hand, ascended the step, and stopped.Dizziness halted her, and she put her hand to her head.“’Ey, move in,” the coachman advised without respect, and thrust her inside.Unsettled by her ailment and his rudeness, she blinked as the door slammed
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