This couldn’t be right. There had to be a mistake. Before her rose a fine townhouse, as pretty and expensive-looking as her own. And the neighborhood it resided in was not necessarily the most prominent, but it was a good address, one many would envy. Was this a trap? Would she enter this home and find it filled with people from Society who would laugh at her for arranging a rendezvous with a criminal? The carriage door opened, but she ignored it, continuing to look at the house, pondering what she should do next. Finally, her groom’s head appeared in the doorway. The young man looked as confused as she felt as he said, “Are you exiting the vehicle, my lady?” “You are certain this is the right address?” she asked slowly. “Yes, my lady,” the young man answered. “This is correct.” He held out a hand, and she took a long breath before she grabbed the jacket on the seat next to her, draped it over her arm and finally allowed the servant to assist her from her place.
