““How are you going to get in?” Stokes asked anxiously. “I shall try the windows first, I think,” Radcliffe said with a frown as he straightened out his skirts. “I fear using the front door would be too much of a risk.” “Aye,” Stokes said, then, “My lord, you…er…your purpose may be better served did you try to…er…keep your face turned away from anyone you encounter.” “Aye,” Elizabeth agreed encouragingly. “And mayhap if you tried not to look quite so tall, you might be able to avoid some unwanted attention.” “And if anyone does approach and question you, you might merely cover your face with a handkerchief and titer.” Radcliffe blinked at that suggestion from Bessie. “I do not have a handkerchief.” “Oh!” Whipping one from her sleeve, Beth handed it to him as he got out of the carriage. “Good luck, my lord. I know you will save her.””
