Should I go back? I did not want to lead a Runner to The Times and more or less hand him the information that I was placing an advertisement. But I had to submit the notice today so that it went into the next paper.

Or someone had to submit it and not be followed.

I frowned, orienting our position on the map of London I held in my mind.

We were, by my calculation, very close to Ludgate Hill and Hatton Garden, the center of the London jewelry trade. And thus near my favored jeweler, Rundell, Bridge and Rundell. I opened my reticule and drew out the notice I had written.

“Weatherly, I want you to place the advertisement.” I gestured for him to lean farther into the cabin, away from any interested eyes, and handed him the folded piece of paper. “Keep it hidden. We cannot have the Runners knowing our plans. I will walk up to Ludgate Hill, with Samuel, to draw the Runner’s attention. Hopefully he will follow me. If he does, then take the carriage and proceed to the Times office and place the notice. Or go by foot, if the cart takes too long to clear. Once you are done, pick me up at Rundell, Bridge and Rundell. It will be as if I was heading there all the time and did not wish to wait for this cart to be cleared. If he does not follow me, then go straight to Rundell’s and we will try again later.”

Weatherly took the note, but his face was troubled. “I do not like this plan, my lady. Even with Samuel, this is not the place for a lady to walk. And what if this Runner approaches you?”

“It is only a short distance,” I said. “And I doubt he will approach me. Especially when I go into the jewelers.”

“Allow me to accompany you instead of Samuel,” Weatherly said.

I placed my hand upon his arm—a liberty I would not usually take, but he had to understand the importance of the notice being placed safely. “No, my friend. I entrust this to you. No one else.”

His mouth quirked—he still did not like the plan—but he nodded and drew back out of the cabin with the slip of paper secreted under his greatcoat.

I collected my reticule and umbrella and took his offered hand, alighting from the carriage onto the wet road.

“Samuel,” I called.

My footman swung down from the rear step, landing with the sure bounce of youth. “Yes, my lady.”

“I will not wait any longer. I am going to walk to Rundell’s,” I said loudly.