Seductive Wager (17 page)

Minutes later, Charles and Mark entered the cabin to find Kate pacing the floor.

“Charles, do you speak French?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God for that. How about you?” she said, looking at Mark.

“Pretty good, ma’am. I’ve been doing these crossings for more than five years and I’ve pretty near picked it up on my own.”

“Wonderful. Now, do either of you know this village we’re going to?”

“I do,” Charles answered. “Mr. Westbrook has landed here several times.”

“Then go to the best inn, hire enough rooms for all of us, and arrange for Mr. Westbrook’s removal. Mark, I want you to find the doctor and take him to the inn immediately. There is a good doctor here, isn’t there?”

“Yes, ma’am. There’s a small English colony in the village. One of them used to be a big London doctor with a fancy practice, but he gave it up. Now he only works when he likes or if something interests him. I don’t know if hell come, but he’s the best.”

“Tell him we have a wounded man who’s dying. Tell him anything you have to but bring him,” Kate ordered. “Now, where is the inn and what is it like? Will the landlord help us? Can we hire the whole inn?”

Mark looked rather Startled. “It’s a small inn, but it’s the only one in the village.”

“It’s called the Chére Madame,” Charles informed her. “Mr. Westbrook has stayed there before, and the owner, one Madame Marcoule, knows him well. She’s a peculiar old woman, but she took a liking to Mr. Westbrook the first time he stayed, and I know she’ll do anything she can to help.”

“Then you make all the arrangements. I’ll stay with Mr. Westbrook.” She turned to Mark. “Regardless of what the captain may say, I want you hanging over the rail ready to take off the minute we dock.”

“I’m sure we can arrange for the captain to let him out of his duties,” Charles said.

“Then you think more of the captain’s Christian charity than I do,” Kate stated waspishly. “Handle it anyway you think best, but the doctor must be notified as soon as possible.”

Charles returned moments later to say the captain had released Mark and all his preparations were made.

“In that case, you can get Mr. Westbrook’s things ready,” Kate instructed. “I have to go to my cabin and pack, but I’ll be back in a few minutes. I don’t have much to do.”

Kate was back in fifteen minutes. She had changed her gown, tied her cloak around her Shoulders, and put on her boots and mittens. “My baggage is packed and ready to be unloaded. How are you doing here?”

“I’m finished,” Charles said as he closed the last piece of luggage. “I’ll need to arrange for porters because Mr. Westbrook has a great deal of luggage stored in the aft cabin. All of it has to be taken with him.” He ignored her questioning look. “I’ll send someone to let you know when we’re ready to take him to the inn. It shouldn’t be long. And miss, on behalf of Mr. Westbrook’s family, I want to thank you for what you’ve done for him.”

Charles left the room before he could see the tears that sprang to Kate’s eyes. She walked over to the chair beside the bed and sat down. Brett looked so pale. Surely he would die if they didn’t get him to a doctor soon. The tears coursed down her cheeks, streaking them like windowpanes in a spring rain. She leaned forward and touched his cheek with her fingertips. After staring at him for a long while, she bent over and lightly kissed his hot, dry lips as tears from her cheeks dropped onto his.

“I’ll see that you get well,” she said fiercely. “I swear it before God and all the saints. And I’ll find some way to take care of myself,” she added more softly. “You’ll never have to suffer because of me again.” Her tears streamed down until his face had become as wet as her own.

A sudden onslaught of running feet claimed Kate’s attention. The boat was docking and all hands were busy securing her moorings. In a little while she would be able to relinquish responsibility for Brett’s care. Then she could go to London and her uncle Milford.

All during the years she had been kept in Virtual seclusion, she had dreamed of going to London, of going to balls and parties, and meeting lots of new people. Now when there was no bar to the fulfillment of her dreams, she found it wasn’t nearly as important as she had once thought, especially if one arrogant-but-ever-so-handsome man wasn’t going to be there.

You’ve got to stop this foolish daydreaming,
she told herself.
He will get well and you will never see him again. You’ve got to think of your own life, your own future. Think of all the other men you’ll meet in London. There ought to be dozens who are just as handsome as he, and they can’t help but be more considerate and kind.

She imagined herself admired and pursued by a crowd of handsome young men, all vying for the Chance to place themselves and their considerable possessions at her feet. In her dreams she laughed a laugh so gay and smiled a smile so stunning they were sent into raptures and were made helpless before her.

But she refused them all easily, even joyfully, because she knew there was one who offered her a love that had nothing to do with jewels, fortunes, or professions of devotion uttered while kneeling at her feet. His was a love that would transcend time and space, that would enfold both of them in its all-encompassing warmth. His was a love that would make of her more than she already was, one that she returned with equal ardor.

A hush would fall over the room and the throng of admirers would fall back, first in surprise and then in recognition of the superiority of the one who came to claim her hand. She knew he was Coming, she could sense his approach even before his form began to take shape through the mists. On and on he came, his tread firm and his purpose steady. As the mists began to thin, he stretched out his hand and Kate, her arms outflung, rushed to meet him.

She heard him calling her name, and as she covered the few feet still separating them, a cry tried to escape from her throat, a cry that would be his name. She reached out, she was almost there, but as she tried frantically to call out to him, the vision vanished and Kate woke up with a Start to the sound of vigorous knocks on the cabin door.

“Miss Vareyan! Is anything wrong?” Charles called anxiously. “The door is locked.”

Kate shook her head to clear away the remaining wisps of her daydream and rose quickly to open the door, but her feet felt weighted and her mind somewhere outside reality.

Charles looked first at Kate and then at Brett. “I was worried something might have happened to you.”

“I didn’t feel safe with both of you gone,” Kate explained, her momentary confusion gone. “I guess I dozed off.” Charles looked at her closely, but he could see nothing wrong.

“I’ve talked with Madame Marcoule, and she’s agreed to turn the whole inn over to us. She was going to ask her only boarder to leave, but he became so incensed over the idea of foreigners under the same roof that he left on his own.”

“Where are the men?” Kate asked. Her immediate concern was to get Brett to the inn, not Madame Marcoule’s boarders. “Are you sure they can get him up those stairs without jarring the wound?” Now she wished she had put Brett in the cabin on the main deck.

“I will keep a strict eye on them to make certain they are mindful of his wound,” Charles assured her. The men arrived, and Charles piloted them through the difficult part of moving Brett out of the cabin and up the stairs. In spite of their care, however, they were unable to negotiate the stairs without putting stress on the wound, and Brett groaned aloud.

“Why is he groaning so?” Kate cried, unable to see what was happening. “You must be hurting him.” Charles sighed with relief when they reached the deck. After the stairs, it was easy to convey Brett to the carriage even though Kate’s fussing did more to hinder their efforts than the weight of the limp body, but it took both Charles and Kate to hold him on the seat as the carriage swiftly covered the short distance to the inn.

But when they reached the inn, Kate stared in openmouthed disbelief at the person who met them at the door. She was as fat as she was tall and dressed like a woman of thirty made up to look ten years younger. Her face was heavily rouged, her hair colored and crimped, and her lips lavishly covered in a gaudy shade of red. Her eyes were green and her lashes heavily blacked; her eyebrows had been ruthlessly plucked and a thin set penciled in above. Great gold loops hung from her ears, rings nearly covered her fingers, and an expensive-looking rope of pearls fell over her ample, tightly corseted bosom. She wore an emerald-green dress trimmed in gold-and-cream lace that was cut low even for evening wear. The whole startling phenomenon was balanced on a pair of flimsy shoes with heels so high she was forced to mince rather than walk.

Enough traces of her former looks remained to show that Valentine Marcoule must have been a beautiful woman in her youth. Though time had destroyed her figure and the perfection of her features, nothing had diminished her spirits and energy. Kate was shocked, affronted, and overwhelmed by her before she even stepped down from the carriage.

Chapter 10

“Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!
she cried.
“Il n’est pas mort?”
She switched abruptly to English. “Such a pallor. Careful, you fools. Do you want him to bleed on my carpets? Keep his head up and put him in the big room on the first floor. Valentine is too fat to be running up stairs to see if the doctor has killed him.
Sacrebleu!
Can you not get through a door without running into it? Must Valentine remove the side of the inn for such a clumsy as you?” The men redoubled their efforts under the lash of her tongue.

Valentine peered into the carriage and recoiled in horror. “Blessed holy virgin! The angel of death has come already!” She crossed herself twice, then in a complete aboutface, she fixed the startled Kate with a defiant stare. “You shall not have him.” And with that strange pronouncement, she turned and hurried into the inn, her mincing step not slowing her down in the least.

“She doesn’t really think you’re the angel of death,” Charles reassured a stunned Kate. “She’s very excitable. Just forget she ever saw you. She will. I’ve taken the liberty of telling Valentine Mr. Westbrook was shot by a disgruntled loser in a card game. The French seem to accept these things. I also told her that one of Mr. Westbrook’s young relatives was traveling with him to Paris.”

“You’ve managed very well,” Kate said with genuine appreciation. “Now if we can just find a nurse. I’ll feel so much better once I know he’s in competent hands.”

“Maybe the doctor can recommend someone. If not, Valentine might be able to help.”

Kate bridled at the mention of the woman’s name, but they were entering the inn and able to hear Valentine hectoring the men as they put Brett to bed, so she swallowed her spleen rather than have her remarks overheard. However horrible that old woman might be, they needed her help.

“I want you to speak to Mark about working for Mr. Westbrook,” Kate said. “If you’re going to be acting as butler-valet as well as handling our arrangements, you’ll be far too busy to run errands.”

“Yes, miss, but I don’t know what Mr. Westbrook is going to say when he recovers. He’s not one to take kindly to anyone altering his arrangements.”

“I’ll think of something.” She flashed one of her most captivating smiles. “I could always demote you.”

“True.”
Mr. Westbrook had better watch out if he wants to avoid parson’s mousetrap this time,
Charles thought to himself. This was no ordinary girl.

Kate went straight to Brett’s room to make sure he was comfortably settled. Valentine was hopping around the room fussing over everything and getting in everyone’s way.

“Poor lamb. Such a handsome young man, and he is all bleeding and white.” She rounded on Charles. “Is the one who did this terrible thing punished? Bah! They are like children, these bad-tempered ones, shooting at everyone when they get the insult. Your judges, they will hang him,
n’est-ce pas?”

“He’s dead, ma’am. Mr. Westbrook shot him.”

“Magnifique!
In my day men fought for the ladies only, and then never to the death.”

“I thought you said she would understand,” Kate whispered.

Charles merely shrugged as Valentine made a sign of the cross and bent over Brett peering into his face.
“Sacrebleu!
This doctor, he must come soon. He looks white as a virgin.” She started to shake with laughter. “White as a virgin,” she repeated and laughed even harder. Kate flushed deeply and remained rooted to the spot.

“Valentine,” came an unexpected whisper, “remove your absurdly painted face, or I shall rise up and strangle you.” Brett had spoken softly with closed eyes and barely moving lips.

“Nom de Dieu! Nom de Dieu!
The dead speak!” Valentine shrieked like she had come face-to-face with the devil himself. “Blessed Virgin protect me,” she pleaded, and fled from the room as fast as her feet could carry her.

Kate hurried to Brett’s side, a bubble of merriment threatening to burst from her. She tried to contain it, but a chuckle escaped and it quickly turned into full-throated laughter. After the tension of the past two days, the relief of knowing Brett was conscious suddenly stripped away her ability to control her emotions. Tears poured down her cheeks and she laughed even harder. She started to straighten Brett’s pillows and arrange his Covers to hide her embarrassment.