Intriguing Lady (6 page)

“An antiquated notion, Sir Nicholas,” Roberta responded. “Modern ladies are far better educated than their predecessors, and well read in Greek and Latin. And it is the classics, Sir Nicholas, that feed their imagination. There is little they don’t know of Roman orgies and Greek perversions, and they assume, rightly or wrongly, that if men indulged in such passions centuries ago, they still do today. Personally, I don’t believe all men are such hedonists. My uncle, for instance, and many of his friends and acquaintances, are serious-minded and concern themselves with the extreme poverty suffered by a large portion of the population in England. But”—she shrugged her shoulders—“that is a topic that most people shy away from, and certainly not one that is discussed in many drawing rooms today.”

“I’m afraid my ignorance on that matter leaves me little else to say,” Sir Nicholas murmured, and closed his eyes as though he were too weary to continue the conversation. The truth was that he knew a lot more than Roberta. However, he’d best be prudent, and so maintained his silence. If he allowed himself to inform her just what was being done to ease the plight of the poor, and his involvement in these plans, it would lend a lie to the image of his being a roué that he had striven so hard to give.

Roberta looked at him with disdain for a moment, and then resumed her study of the countryside. She should have known better than to try to conduct a serious conversation with a man of such rakish persuasions, she thought ruefully, and then followed his example and closed her eyes.

She was soon fast asleep, and only woke when Williams stopped and announced that they had arrived at Bethune, where they were to spend the night.

C
hapter 5

By the time
the party was ensconced in the carriage the next morning, it was evident that Roberta’s ill humor concerning Sir Nicholas had evaporated. It appeared that her only concern was whether the comte was following them.

“You appear to have a certain knowledge of his character, Sir Nicholas. Is it likely that he would give up his search for you so easily?” she inquired.

“He has probably decided that he has a better chance of finding me if he watches every boat that leaves Calais, instead of searching every carriage that passes through Le Cateau bound for Calais.”

“So we might not have seen the last of him, then?” she pressed.

“Anything is possible, Miss Rushforth, but once we are aboard the packet, we can safely assume that he won’t bother us again.”

“Then I pray we accomplish that without mishap,” Mrs. Ashley said fervently, “for I have no desire to meet this man.”

Her prayers were answered late in the afternoon, for they boarded the boat without delay. Williams managed to persuade the captain to assign his party three of the best staterooms, and settled them in before he went off to superintend the unloading of the carriage.

From her porthole, Roberta viewed the bustle on the quayside with interest. Young boys, staggering under the weight of large trunks, scurried up the gangplank, while the owners of the luggage stood about in small groups, waiting until the last possible moment to board. No one, it seemed to Roberta, was in a hurry to leave France. No one, that is, except Sir Nicholas.

Strong male voices, shouting directions, penetrated the thin walls of her cabin, and finally she heard the noise of the heavy chain anchor being weighed. The gangplank was drawn in, and all activity on the quayside seemed to stop. They were off at last, and she sighed in relief.

Suddenly a loud shout broke the silence, and Roberta saw a man hidden under a black-and-gold cape of hideous design trying to attract the captain’s attention. Seconds later, the gangplank was lowered, and the man boarded. The packet then left the safety of the harbor and was soon plying its way over the choppy waters of the English Channel.

Darkness had fallen by the time boredom drove Roberta from her cabin. Mrs. Ashley was prostrate on her bunk with seasickness, moaning her misery for anyone who cared to hear. There was nothing Roberta could do to help the poor woman, so she wandered up onto the top deck and held the rail for support. A full moon cast its luminous light over the boat. The North Star was bright, and she stared upward, trying to identify the constellations.

“It is an awesome sight, mademoiselle,
n’est ce pas?
”

The familiar voice of the comte caused a shock wave to ripple through her body, and she gripped the rail tightly. What a fool she had been to leave the safety of her cabin. And how stupid to think they had escaped him!

“It is Mlle. Rushforth, isn’t it?” he continued smoothly, oblivious to the look of horror on her face. “I met you yesterday in Le Cateau.”

Roberta nodded in a dreamlike fashion and wondered how he had discovered her name. She wanted to pinch herself to make certain she was awake and not suffering some terrible nightmare. But the awful reality of her situation was borne swiftly home when she felt him grip her elbow. His fingers were like a steel trap, and she suddenly felt as vulnerable as any caught animal.

“Would you care for a stroll, perhaps?” he asked. “You might take a chill if you just stand in this cold wind. After your recent illness, I think that would not be advised.”

“No—no, thank you, Monsieur le Comte. I—I have been away from my cabin too long as it is. Ashley and Papa will be worried.” She tried to pull her arm free, but his grasp was relentless.

“Ah, yes! Your papa. How is he? I trust he has weathered the journey well.”

Roberta shivered involuntarily at his menacing tone. “Amazingly well,” she replied with as much indifference as she could muster. “Though he did work himself up into a rage when we were stopped by some soldiers.” She broke off and gave a shrill laugh. “But, how silly of me. You must have heard about that, and about my ailment, from the young man who questioned us. Do you happen to know if they found the person they were seeking?”

The comte appeared to weigh the seeming innocence of her question. Then, evidently deciding that it was genuine, he laughed. “You are extremely quick-witted, mademoiselle,” he said admiringly. “I did, indeed, hear of your recent sojourn in Switzerland from the young man. But, to answer your question, no, the person we are looking for has not yet been apprehended.”

“He must have committed a terrible crime, for the army to be involved in the search. In England, the army would only be called into service for such a search if the fugitive had committed a crime of high treason.”

“Ah! I see your meaning. It is the same in France. The man we are looking for is a traitor. A spy!”

“No!” Roberta exclaimed, and struggled to hide the amusement she felt at such an outrageous claim. “Really! How simply terrifying. I hope you catch up with him. I can’t bear to think that such men get away.”

“He won’t,” the comte assured her. “Our net is widespread, and he won’t slip through it.”

The confidence with which he spoke caused a feeling of apprehension to well up inside her. Suddenly she realized he had spoken the truth about his reasons for hunting Sir Nicholas. She inhaled deeply to steady her nerves and tried to grasp the import of what she had just learned. But her mind refused to function. She felt only an overwhelming desire to rid herself of the comte’s presence and to warn Sir Nicholas.

“I hope my careless revelations have not alarmed you, Mademoiselle Rushforth,” the comte said in the face of her continuing silence. “I will personally insure that you are not harmed.”

“You—you mean he is on this boat?” Roberta asked, acting the part of a frightened lady without difficulty. She
was
frightened, not for herself, but for Sir Nicholas.

“So I have been informed. That is why I am confident we will succeed in capturing him. If it is true that he is here, he is trapped.” He laughed again, revealing several black teeth and finally relinquishing his grasp on her arm. “Allow me to escort you back to your cabin, Mademoiselle Rushforth. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

“Thank you,” Roberta murmured faintly. “You’re very kind, but I don’t think it necessary. I don’t think Ashley would approve if she knew I had been talking to a stranger.”

“Hardly a stranger,” he replied in a caressing voice. “After all, we have met before.”

“But—but we were not introduced,” Roberta responded quickly. She could feel the small hairs at her nape rising as he stepped closer and placed his hands intimately on her shoulders.

“Perhaps this will seal our meeting,” he whispered, and brought his mouth down to meet hers. She twisted her head sharply, but his lips, wet and pressing, touched her cheek.

“Please, Monsieur le Comte,” she managed with more composure than she dreamed possible, “don’t be so silly. I’ll excuse your action this time, because of the moon’s fullness, but I hope, if we should ever meet again, you will act more like a gentleman.”

She turned and fled, only stopping for breath when she had reached Sir Nicholas’s cabin. Giving no more than a perfunctory knock, she entered. Such was her state of agitation that she gave no thought to the impropriety of entering a gentleman’s room. He was seated at a small table bolted to the floor by the porthole, peering intently at some papers. He looked up at that moment and hurriedly pulled the papers together, failing to notice one sheet flutter to the floor. She watched it float slowly down and in that moment decided against repeating the comte’s allegations. She would consult with her uncle, Lord Bromley, first, for how could she be certain what Sir Nicholas was really up to? His behavior was odd, to say the least, and if the comte was to be believed, he was not a man to be trusted.

“Good evening, Miss Rushforth,” Sir Nicholas said, smiling at her lazily. “Do you make a habit of entering a man’s room unchaperoned?”

She waited for the pounding of her heart to subside before nodding. “It’s a habit I picked up from you, Papa,” she responded lightly. “I have come to inform you that the comte is on board. I have just left him on the top deck.”

“Indeed,” was the noncommittal reply. “Does Mrs. Ashley know you went for a walk alone?”

“I’m no longer a young girl who needs to ask permission to go for a walk,” she said with considerable irritation. “Had I known how you would react, I wouldn’t have bothered to come and warn you.”

“As it happens, Miss Rushforth, I’m aware of his presence. I saw him come on board. He was the late arrival.” The maddeningly calm way in which he spoke caused Roberta to mutter angrily that he couldn’t possibly have recognized the comte under the heavy cloak he had worn.

“Oh! But it was the cloak that I identified. The comte is the only person I know who would sport something so vulgar.”

“Yet you don’t seem in the least bit agitated,” Roberta ventured, trying hard to match his casual attitude. “I would have thought that, knowing of his presence, you would have taken the precaution of locking your door.”

“There, I grant you, I made a mistake. However, as no harm has come because of my thoughtlessness, there is little to worry about.” He stood up and clumsily collected the papers, which he then thrust inside his jacket. “I think I will retire now, Miss Rushforth, and try to get some sleep before we land.”

“Of course, Sir Nicholas,” Roberta replied, eyeing the single sheet of paper still on the floor. It lay no more than a few feet from her. “Perhaps you should check your porthole first, though, and make certain it is secure.” He nodded his agreement, and as soon as he turned his back, she retrieved the paper and quickly hid it in the folds of her dress. “Good night,” she said, and before he had a chance to respond, she departed.

Once in the privacy of her own cabin, she pulled the paper out and smoothed it with trembling fingers. She studied it carefully, but it made no sense to her. It appeared to be a list, written in fine copperplate, but the letters were a jumble and formed no recognizable words.

“It must be in code,” she breathed, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Oh, Sir Nicholas, what a careless man you are!”

She sat down at a table similar to the one in Sir Nicholas’s cabin and searched the drawer for writing implements. Dipping the pen into the ink, she slowly copied the letters onto a fresh sheet of paper, stopping frequently to check that she had made no mistake. When she finished and was satisfied that all was in order, she carefully folded her copy and tucked it into the top of her chemise, where it lay like a cold, sharp knife against her bosom. She returned the original to her dress pocket.

“Now all I have to do is wait for a suitable opportunity to return it to you, Sir Nicholas,” she murmured, “and I hope one arises before you discover it is missing.”

She lay on her bunk, fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling, far too excited to sleep. She had a lot to think about. She had to find a plausible reason to persuade Sir Nicholas to accompany them to London, for she now felt it imperative that she not lose sight of him until she had spoken to her uncle. Lord Bromley, in his capacity as Under Secretary, would know exactly how to handle such an unusual situation.

She jerked up into a sitting position some five minutes later, a self-satisfied expression on her face. “The comte, of course! He would be most suspicious if he noticed that I had left my father at Dover,” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Sir Nicholas, you’ll just
have
to accept my offer to take you to London.”

C
hapter 6

It was early
afternoon before the boat finally reached Dover. The trip had been rough, and as far as Roberta could determine from the faces of the people who had gathered on deck, she was one of the few lucky ones who had not suffered seasickness. There was no sign of Mrs. Ashley or Sir Nicholas, and she assumed they were still in their cabins. As she stood, looking toward land, Williams came up behind her.