[i]D-don’t look at me like that! You’ll give people the wrong idea.[/i] Adele used a none-too-gentle index finger to poke Rook’s cheek, trying to turn that charming little face away from her.  She already seemed to have recovered from the sudden show of weakness in front of Rook; her shoulders were squared and her body was taut with spring-loaded preparation for their next move.

“So sorry to interrupt, [i]Sir[/i].” Adele’s smile was full of saccharine sadism—the fire in her eyes left no doubt that she had a few choice words to deliver to both captain and caravan master. “But I couldn’t help but acknowledge your orders and feel the need to suggest an additional course of action. Since we seem to be moving forward with upmost caution, might I suggest leaning away from putting Mr. Hemming back in the carriage?” Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if Marcel would fit in there with whoever else Hemming had.

“You see, my heart [i]aches[/i] at the notion that something so fine may easily be targeted in the case of an ambush. This is only a suggestion in the humblest sense, but perhaps it might be safer if we traded Mr. Hemming’s hat for one of our surcoats and a hooded cloak of some kind? If we disguise him as one of our own and have him ride in one of the wagons with Marcel as a bodyguard, it’s bound to look much less conspicuous. It may seem like an extreme precaution, I am sure, but nothing is more important than the safety of our client when there are traces of bandit activity about.”