Chapter 12Will was still fast asleep, and dawn had not yet reared its sleepy head when I sat by the scant light of a candle with my quill in my hand and a piece of paper spread out before me. As I wrote, I attempted to the best of my ability to disguise my handwriting.
What I was doing was wrong and dangerous, but I felt I must do it. I did not sign the correspondence and I needed to deliver it without being recognised, so I donned Luciana’s gown, drew on my cloak, and with the letter tucked down inside my bodice, I hurried out into the bitter morning.
At the ostler on Meadow Street, I hired a horse and set out. It was too far to walk, and I prayed Lord Monteagle was home and not away at his estate farther south. The strangeness of riding in a skirt equalled walking in it about Whitehall
