But the odds had always been stacked against her success, and now she had utterly burned her bridges with him. And since Deering was a wealthy, powerful, conniving adversary, she was unlikely to win against him by challenging him overtly. Therefore, she had only one course left open to her.
She would simply have to steal her stallion back.
The waiting was the hardest part.
Maura knew she couldn’t enact her plan to rescue Emperor from the viscount’s stables until the dead of the night, when his grooms and coachmen would be sleeping. Therefore, she drove to the public livery nearest to Deering’s grand Mayfair mansion, where she had already arranged stabling for Frip and storage for her gig.
She had also paid handsomely for the use of a small room above the livery and so settled there for the interim. For the next thirteen hours, she alternately struggled with impatience and nerves.
When darkness fell over London, Maura forced herself to snatch a few hours of sleep, knowing she had a long night ahead of her. She also made herself eat. Even though she had packed provisions enough for a journey of several days, she wanted to keep up her strength for what might be a grueling test of endurance.
It was nearing two o’clock in the morning when she changed out of her gown into the clothing she had brought in her valise, donning leather breeches, sturdy half boots, a shapeless dark shirt, and the fustian jacket of a common laborer. Then she carefully pinned up her long blond hair and hid it under a floppy wide-brimmed hat in an effort to resemble a peddler, the role she had chosen to best disguise her gender and class.
When she descended the stairs, the livery was mostly quiet. The few sleepy lads who were on hand to service the carriages and teams of late-night customers paid her no attention.
Relieved that she fit in with the livery staff, Maura saddled Frip and loaded him down with some of the gear she’d stashed in the gig’s boot. She wouldn’t need the gelding’s services just yet, but she wanted him to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
Fripon was the French word for rascal, a name that he had earned when he was a foal, but he had matured into a steady, dependable job horse capable of pulling a carriage or carrying a rider untiringly over long distances.
“I am counting on you to help me rescue your friend tonight, my sweet fellow,” Maura murmured softly.
Frip snuffled in reply and nodded his head, seeming to understand her urgency.
Leaving him tethered near her gig at the livery, she collected her knapsack, which was filled with an odd assortment of items, including a bridle, and made her way on foot through the dark streets of Mayfair. The half moon above was frequently concealed by clouds and offered barely enough light for her to see, but although she had a tinderbox and candle in her knapsack, she didn’t want to risk showing a light. A slight fog also helped to conceal her presence from the occasional carriage that rumbled past her.
Some five minutes later she reached the mews of Seymour Place where Emperor was being kept. The long row of private stables ran behind several great houses and was accessed by a carriage lane.
Maura hugged the shadows of the mews as she inched down the lane. Since Deering’s mansion was separated from his stables by extensive gardens, she didn’t fear alerting his household servants, but his grooms and coachmen lodged above his stables and might still be awake.
Deering might also have set someone to guard his new prize, although Gandy’s careful reconnaissance last week hadn’t shown such precautions.
For several long minutes, Maura waited outside the stables, but the continued silence seemed to suggest it was safe to implement the next step of her plan. Her heart thudding, she slowly eased open the side door and crept inside.
There she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Thankfully, she encountered no guards or anyone else to impede her progress as she stole down the aisle. With only faint light permeating the windows overhead, she could see little, yet she could hear the quiet sounds of dozing horses, and recognized her own beloved horse’s movements coming from the far end.
Emperor was pacing his stall restlessly.
“Damn you, Lord Deering,” Maura swore under her breath, knowing the horse would be bursting with energy, no doubt circling and pawing and even kicking out in objection to his imprisonment. If he wasn’t to become wild, a stallion needed much more freedom and exercise than mares or geldings, and with so much pent-up force to be unleashed, Emperor could very well hurt himself or others.
She consoled herself by remembering that he only had to endure his maltreatment for a short while longer. After tonight, with very good luck combined with her determination, he would be free of the odious viscount forever.
When she reached Emperor’s stall, she realized he had picked up her scent, for he snorted urgently.
“Hush, darling boy,” Maura whispered, fumbling with the latch to the door. “I will take you away from here very soon, I promise.”
Slipping through the door, she threw her arms around the horse’s neck, her heart swelling with love for him. Emperor whickered in return, acknowledging the bond they shared.
Then stepping back, Maura set to work in the dark. Guided mostly by feel, she searched in her knapsack and drew out four folded lengths of cloth.
“Please be still, love. You have to be good and allow me to muffle your hooves.”
To her relief, Emperor stood obediently as she tied a cloth around each foot to stifle the sound of steel shoes striking cobblestones. He also allowed her to bridle him without protest and waited while she slung her knapsack over her shoulder. But when she opened his stall door, he pulled against the bit, eager to escape his prison.
“Easy, boy,” she murmured, placing a soothing hand on his neck. “You have to trust me, Emp.”
At her touch, he seemed to grow calm. Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, Maura silently led the stallion down the aisle and out the side door. When they were free of the stables, she said a mute prayer of thanks, but she couldn’t breathe until they reached the end of the lane and turned the corner, so that they were out of view of the mews.
The streets were still chiefly deserted, Maura noted gratefully, yet as they negotiated two more blocks, she couldn’t shake the strange sensation of being watched. There was no pursuit, she decided, glancing behind her.