The Charmer (17 page)

“You will receive no censure from me. If not for falling in love with Laclere, I expect that I would still be unmarried. Without love, marriage has little to recommend it if a woman can provide for herself through property or employment.”

The viscountess spoke with a familiarity that Sophia had rarely shared with a woman. She warmed to this young American woman who did not seem to know how to dissemble.

“I am told that you are an opera singer,” Sophia said. “That must be very exciting.”

“Thus far the roles have been in theaters in England, but I have been offered a major one in Italy next year.” She gazed toward her husband. “Laclere married someone quite unsuitable. Not only an American, but a performer. You cannot get much more unsuitable than that.”

She stated it matter-of-factly. Sophia surmised that here was a young woman who dealt with society on her own terms, and who had found a man who did as well. The Viscount Laclere rose significantly in her estimation.

“Has it mattered?”

“Of course. You learn who your friends are, and who the fools are. It has not been as bad as it might have been. Vergil is seen as a bit eccentric and that makes me almost interesting, like an outrageous extravagance.”

Their conversation had been refreshingly frank, the sort out of which true friendships are sewn. Sophia risked pushing the intimacy further. “I have a peculiar request to make of you. I would like you to occupy Mister Burchard when I depart.”

“You do not welcome your rescuer's attendance? After my husband, he is the most handsome man in the room, and from the way he was watching you earlier I assumed that he was in love.”

The offhand observation startled her. “His attendance would be intrusive this evening, and it is his management that I do not welcome.”

“Yes, he has that tendency, much as my Vergil does. It can be comforting and charming sometimes, but . . .” Lady Laclere patted her arm conspiratorially. “When you take your leave, I will see that Mister Burchard is distracted. He will not impose, not that the attention of a man who looks like that is ever a complete imposition.”

How in blazes had she left without his noticing?

Had it been when Lady Laclere engaged him in that private conversation that probed none too subtly about his affections for the duchess? Or when Laclere cornered him to conduct a quick assessment of his true sympathies in the upcoming political debate? Both exchanges distracted him, and it was only after Laclere walked away that he realized Sophia was no longer in the house.

He commandeered his curricle and snapped the horses toward Dincaster House. Sophia might prefer to avoid talking about Captain Brutus, but it needed to be done.

The way she had given him the slip darkened his mood, which had been shadowed enough from her attitude earlier. He had not realized until their exchange just how jealous he had become of the elusive Captain Brutus.

He arrived at Dincaster House just as the earl was exiting the dining room. “A fortuitous visit, Adrian. I was just about to send for you.”

Adrian did not welcome the distraction, but the earl appeared purse-mouthed and serious and he had no choice but to follow him to the study.

The earl settled in the chair behind an elaborate desk that had not been the site of any serious study for decades. Adrian sat across its polished, inlaid expanse.

The earl tossed a scandal sheet across to him. “Have you seen it?”

Adrian perused the only story that could have possibly interested the earl. It described the famous rescue of the Duchess of Everdon last night, only the building was higher (five stories), the descent more precarious (sheets shredding from the weight), the hero more romantic (a dark, brooding, man of the world), and the duchess more naked (barely covered by tattered silk). Three times it mentioned that the window had been that of her bedchamber.

“It was inevitable, I suppose.”

“Damned embarrassing.”

“I could have let her roast and spared you this. It was inconsiderate of me not to do so.”

“Your flippancy is not amusing. What the hell were you doing there?”

“Stealing a look at her correspondence.”

“Her correspondence! See here—”

“I will not be lectured by you about my behavior. I apologize for the attention that last night has directed at me. I know how much you dislike anything that reminds the world of our relationship. Short of letting the duchess stay in that burning house, this spectacle could not be avoided, however.”

The earl did not like his tone, but Adrian had not liked the earl's tone for most of his life, so he did not care.

“You are not without your debts to me, Adrian,” the earl said, suddenly flinty-eyed.

“I am
fully
aware of
exactly
what I owe to
whomever
I am indebted.”

The earl blinked surprise at the emphasis, and retreated. “Yes, well, that story is not the actual subject that I want to discuss. I had a most peculiar conversation with that Frenchman today.”

Any conversation between the earl and Jacques was not good news. Only being informed of a chat between the earl and Attila would be worse. “I hope that you found it enjoyable.”

“Not bad, not bad. If you can get that Hun out of the way, the Frenchman can be almost presentable. He is very curious about our ways and our government. Can't hurt to educate 'em to the superior culture here, that's what I say. If the whole world were English, it would be a damn sight easier to manage.”

“Definitely. On what points did you educate Jacques?”

“That was the odd part. It began normally enough, but then he asked some questions about the peerage. Very detailed. Wanted to know if we could marry without the Crown's consent, and if we did if the marriage would stand. The more I thought about it later, the more it struck me that he knows about the duchess being married. Maybe he knows who the man is.”

He would kill Jacques.
“It may have only been a passing curiosity because he knows the King wants her to marry Stidolph.”

“Possibly, possibly. Then he quizzed me about marital rights here. Asked how marriages could be ended.”

“Again, just curiosity, I am sure.”

“Then he asked what would happen to someone who helped a woman to leave her husband. Whether they could be jailed if caught. I explained that the biggest danger came from the husband, and that the French may think nothing of absconding with another man's wife but that we take a much dimmer view of such behavior here.” He said it forcefully, as if to emphasize a moral rule.

Adrian ignored the lesson. His mind had completely focused on the implications of Jacques' last question.
He would hang Jacques by the . . .
He rose to leave.

“Then he asked the most peculiar question of all,” the earl continued, stopping him. “He inquired if you were a spy.”

“A spy?”

“A spy. An agent provocateur.”

“What did you say?”

“That it was preposterous, of course. The very notion. I explained that when you go abroad you are nothing more than a secretary or clerk. Good heavens, a
spy.
” The earl chortled at the idiocy of the idea.

“What did Jacques say to that?”

His brow puckered while he searched his memory. “He muttered something about assuming that I would know, which of course I would, and we spoke a bit about the weather and then he removed himself.” He leaned over the desk. “The point is, I think he knows who the husband is. We should try and get it out of him. Whomever she married is probably influencing her, and not to the good. Perhaps we should think about getting the husband out of the way if he is about, for the time being that is.”

The “we” part of this made Adrian uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as the various revelations embedded in Jacques' questions. Adrian experienced a profound gratitude that the earl had long ago given up the habit of deep thought and calculation.

“An excellent idea. Leave it to me. It would be best if you do not broach the subject with him. It might warn him off. I know the man quite well and will worm it out of him quickly.”

“Thought that you would want a go at it. It will give you a chance to fix things. Haven't been too successful with getting her in line, have you?”

“I am grateful for the opportunity to redeem myself.”

He strode down the corridor to the dining room. He found Colin there, smoking a cigar.

“Glad you came, Adrian. Join me.” He pushed a box toward him. “Just me and Father for dinner tonight, and your company will help me recover from the tedium.”

“The duchess was not here? Nor her guests?”

“Just the two of us.”

“Have you seen her at all in the last few hours?”

“Her carriage went to Laclere's sometime ago to fetch her. Jacques and Attila rode along to escort her home. She should return shortly, I expect.”

Adrian swore and slammed a chair hard against the table. “She will not. She has bolted, I am sure of it, and those damn artists are helping her.”

“Bolted? To where?”

“She could be headed to India for all I know.”

“Not by ship. The tide won't be right until the morning.”

Adrian turned to go. “I will have to check the docks.”

Colin laid down his cigar. “That could take hours. I will help. It will spare me the boredom of listening to political yammering in my club. I think that I can find some friends to join us. It sounds like a splendid diversion. We will have a duchess hunt.”

“I welcome your aid, Colin. However, when we run this particular fox to ground and trophies are being claimed, her tail is
mine.
”

chapter
18

Y
ou should rest, Sophia. Go to your cabin and sleep. This boat does not leave until close to dawn. We will wake you after the crossing,” Attila said.

Sophia peered up at the starlit sky. Jacques and Attila flanked her, leaning against the railing of the small ship that would take her to France. “I will retire shortly. Thank you again for helping me.”

“It was Jacques who found these berths for hire. I am only sorry that the tide meant we could not depart at once.”

“A few hours will not matter too much.” She did not add that now that she was here, waiting to leave, she welcomed the delay.

A melancholy filled her. It was ridiculous, but she could not shake it. They had spent the last hours laughing about her great escape and anticipating the wonderful times waiting on the Continent. She had already planned the next year full of balls and diversions and a long sojourn in Italy. It would be like old times. But her merriment had been a facade to hide an inexplicable heartsickness. She should be excited and relieved, not aching and sad. This mood made no sense at all. She hated England.

“You do not think that he will interfere?” Jacques asked.

She knew who “he” was. The same “he” who intruded on her thoughts while she gazed into the night sky. Without even knowing what she was up to, “he” had already managed to interfere. Although Attila had agreed to this plan after a little cajoling, Jacques had resisted, because to his mind they would be stealing her from her husband, which could have dire consequences.

She had explained again and again that she and Adrian were not married, but neither artist believed her. Adrian's performance in Paris had been too effective, and the old lie about a husband had come back to haunt her when she asked for their assistance this morning. In desperation she had pled horrible unhappiness and had even, she recalled guiltily, made a few ambiguous accusations about Adrian being the cause of it. That had finally swayed Jacques, which was just as well. She doubted that Attila could have managed this on his own.

“I am worried about Camilla and Yuri and the others,” Attila said. “You do not think that he will take vengeance against them or hold them hostage? Such a man might.”

The lie's details about her husband's vile temper had not made this any easier. “He is kind to animals, and will see to their care. When I write and ask for them, they will be sent, along with Charles and Jenny.”

“Just like an Englishman to be more kind to dogs than to a woman,” Jacques said.

“He was not actually unkind to me.”

“Do not speak of it, Sophia. It is an indelicate matter, but I understood you well enough. I was hesitant to help you escape, but when I comprehended your situation it became a matter of honor for me to see that he does not touch you again.”

“It is not as if he hurt me. I hope that you do not think that.”

“There are deeper wounds than those inflicted by a fist or weapons. Like all women, you are resilient about such things, but you are free of him now. The clumsy, selfish brute did not deserve you.”

Adrian, clumsy and selfish? She was quite sure that she had never said that about him. She scoured her memory to remember exactly what she
had
said.

Jacques' relaxed body suddenly tightened. “What is that?” he asked, cocking his head. “Do you hear that? There. At the far dock.” He pointed.

They all turned to the rail and bent over to watch. Torches danced in the night around two carriages overladen with passengers. Bodies began pouring off their sides and tops and out of their compartments. Soon a raucous crowd milled around a distant dock.

“Good heavens, not another demonstration,” Sophia said. “It is the middle of the night.”

“Maybe they plan to burn all the boats,” Attila said. “Maybe a revolution has begun, and they want to make sure the aristocrats cannot escape the country. It would be the perfect time, with all the government here for Parliament.”

“It does not look like a revolution to me and I should know, having just been in one,” Jacques said. He squinted at the crowd, which had moved to the next nearest dock. “More like a group of drunks looking for some sport.”

That dock ceased to amuse them, and the crowd milled to the next one. Sophia could make out some details now. They were apparently in high spirits, playing some game. Flames briefly illuminated bits of them. Some wore army uniforms and others evening clothes. They swarmed over the piers onto the boats, disappeared for a spell, then swarmed back onto the dock.

“You should go to your cabin,
kedvesem,
” Attila warned.

She barely heard him. One of the men had gone onto a small ship alone and spoken with someone there.

Her gaze locked on that man. He was no more than a dark blotch amidst the jumping torch flames, but . . .

They were only three docks away now and it was clear what was happening. They were searching the ships.

The merry crowd jostled forward. The uniforms became distinct. The officers among them were not common army, but Royal Guardsmen.

The dark blotch strode in front of them all. He suddenly took distinct form.

“Merde,”
Jacques hissed.

“It is
him.
And he is wearing a sabre.” Attila gulped. “We are dead, Jacques.”

Jacques narrowed his eyes. “Go to your cabin, Sophia.”

“Once he sees you he will know I am here anyway. Let me handle this. He must listen to reason.”

“There is no reason in such matters.”

The crowd approached their dock. The gangway was down and they could not board. Sophia recognized Colin, carrying one of the torches, and a few other gentlemen to whom she had been introduced during the last few weeks, including Dante Duclairc. Unmarried, all of them, and right now totally foxed.

Except Adrian, who stood front and center. He appeared completely sober. And furious.

They collected in front of her on the wharf.

“There she is! At the railing!”

“Run to ground in two hours. By Jove, we're better than hounds.”

“Two men with her, Adrian. Do we lynch them?”

Attila frowned. “Lynch? Lynch? What is this lynch?”

“Hang,” Jacques said.

“Hang!”

“They are not going to hurt you,” Sophia said, not entirely convinced of that herself. Adrian, for one, looked fit to kill.

The noise brought the captain from his cabin. Well into his night gin, he staggered forward and peered over the rail.

“What the hell is this about?” the captain yelled.

“Raise the gangway,” Adrian called. “The woman desires to disembark.”

“I do not,” Sophia countered. “Do not permit them to board, Captain.”

The poor man shook his head, as if he tried to clear it. “You've Royal Guardsmen with you. Were you sent by His Majesty?”

“Of course he wasn't.”

Adrian muttered something and the officers tried to line up neatly and look steady. “Would these officers be with me otherwise?”

“He is tricking you. He collected them out of taverns and brothels, and not at the King's command. I have paid for this ship, and I demand that you not raise the gangway. I order you to cast off at once.”

“I can't cast off. Nowhere's to go, and night is no time to be navigating down river, not to mention the crew ain't on board.”

“Just drift for an hour or something, as long as you get me away. I will pay you double.”

That made him pause. He faced Adrian. “What do you want with this woman?”

“She is the Duchess of Everdon and the King requires that she remain in England.”

The Captain debated and sighed. “Damned situation. See here, Your Grace, if that is who you are, better you go and settle this with the gentleman and the King. Tide is at five if you will still be wanting this ship, but I don't take any passenger against the Crown's pleasure, no matter how good the silver.” He lumbered over to the winch and began raising the gangway.

Adrian waited patiently, glaring at her. The officers tried to maintain an official stance, but kept wobbling and giggling like the besotted fools they were. Colin and the other gentlemen joked and enjoyed the spectacle.

Sophia seethed.

With the gangway in place, the captain ambled away. One very annoyed third son of an earl strode onto the ship.

He marched right up to her. She instinctively took a step back before she dug in her heels.

“Going somewhere?” he asked coolly.

“Yes.”

“Not tonight, you aren't.” He turned to Jacques and Attila. “I am left to conclude that you two only came to England in order to abduct the duchess.”

“Abduct?” Attila cried.

“Worse, you have dishonorably taken advantage of my family's hospitality even while you plotted against the realm.”

“Plotted against the realm? Oh, no, Mister Burchard, there has been no plotting. Why, Jacques and I would not know how to plot, would we, Jacques?”

“Speak for yourself. I am weary of being threatened by this man. The English win one little war and they think they are masters of the world. As to how we came to accompany Sophia, that is none of your concern.”

“It is very much my concern.”

“She is a free citizen. Even a husband's rights do not nullify that. She does not want you anymore. Her decision to leave makes that clear. I cannot say that I blame her. She does not belong in England, or with you. After experiencing the glory that is France, she could never be happy again on this provincial island, or with one of its men sharing her bed.”

A very tense silence fell. Adrian's stance relaxed. Somehow it made him seem more dangerous.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked ever so calmly.

“Nothing,” Sophia inserted quickly.

“Please, M'sieur. We broach a topic best left alone, don't you agree?” Jacques' finely hewn face pursed into a bored, knowing smirk.

“Yes,” Sophia said. “Especially with a lady present.”

“I am interested in broaching it. Compelled, actually.”

Jacques sighed with exasperation. “It is well-known that Englishmen do not know how to handle women.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, yes.” Attila concurred apologetically. “Jacques is too frank, but what he says is true. The rest of the world does not throw it in your face because that would be impolite.”

Adrian glanced to the crowd of Englishmen on the wharf. “And dangerous.”

Jacques ignored the warning. He made a disdainful gesture. “The English have no great art, no great music, so it is not surprising that their imagination fails in love. A woman is like a new rose, beckoning all the senses. An Englishman sees it, plucks it, and then crushes it.”

Sophia felt her face burning. This was no time for Jacques to wax poetic.

“This is fascinating,” Adrian said.

“Eh,
bien
? Listen and learn. The right way to enjoy that rose is to gently sniff. To carefully peel the petals apart. To caress and nibble its velvet layers and lick its nectar.”

“I am entranced, Jacques. Although I would like to interrupt here and say that if I ever learn that you attend the duchess in the hopes of licking her nectar, I will kill you.”

Sophia rushed in. “I assure you, neither Jacques nor Attila has ever licked . . . that is to say . . .”

Jacques threw up his hands. “You are hopeless. What did I tell you, Attila? I generously try to help this Englishman by imparting the secrets of my heritage, and all I get is threats. You do not deserve her, and unless you plan to use that sword, we will not let you force her to return.”

“Then I will have to use the sword.”

“If you use it with the skill that she says you deploy with your other weapon, we are safe.”

Utter silence this time. Not a sound, not a movement. The air stilled around them. Sophia tried to speak, but her wide-open mouth would not move.

Finally Adrian shifted his weight and scratched his brow, as if checking to be sure that he was really standing on this ship and had just heard correctly.

“Are you saying that Sophia told you that she is leaving because I am a poor lover?”

Jacques struck a brave pose and made a shrug that answered more eloquently than words.

Attila tried desperately to smooth things. “We hesitated helping her. To come between a husband and wife is a serious offense. She repudiated you as she did in Paris, and we could see her unhappiness and desperation, but of course we knew that when she said again that you were not married, that she was lying to enlist our assistance. I even tried to intercede on your behalf. It was then that she blurted the truth.”

“Did she?” Adrian asked silkenly. “What did she say?”

“Nothing!” Sophia's voice returned so abruptly that the cry startled her.

“I insist that you tell me, Attila, so that I can correct my ways.”

Attila missed the ominous undertones. He looked relieved that Adrian was being reasonable. “She said that you are domineering, too aggressive, and that you only manage her to your own interest and pleasure, and that you manhandle her almost daily.” He smiled sympathetically. “We do not blame you. As an Englishman you cannot help being prone to the quick, crushing style that in reality most woman only enjoy every now and then. It is your misfortune that in your absence she went to Paris and discovered that love can be pleasurable. There were all those years apart.”