“Your appearance is difficult to reconcile. The image of you while at the Redburn house party is rather different from what I see before me now.”
Clad in breeches and a white lawn shirt, there was no hiding her curvaceous figure. “I am the same person, regardless of my attire.”
“My lady, I meant no offense. Rather I admire that you remain true to yourself no matter your surroundings.” Mr. Smyth, who was normally quite direct, was bumbling through his explanation. He cleared his throat and then stated, “You are an excellent strategist and an exceptional leader. I am honored to be a part of your contingent.”
Not sure of how to respond to the compliment, Lucy asked, “Shall we go over the plan once more?” She had taken extra care in planning this evening’s mission.
“That is not necessary.”
While Mr. Smyth need not go over the plan, she wanted to run through all the moving parts one more time to calm her racing thoughts. Information from one of the men she posted at coaching inns across the area had finally reached her earlier in the day. Blake was to be transported in an old and dilapidated coach with only a coachman and two outriders escorting him. Lucy had sent her outriders ahead to scout for potential dangers. With her contingent reduced to John, Evan, and Mr. Smyth, would they be able to overpower Blake’s guards?
The beat of hooves eating up ground and the rattling of carriage wheels had her peering through the trees. Ready to take action and attack, Lucy surveyed the area once more. The coach moved faster than what she originally anticipated a ramshackle vehicle could.
They were in the wrong position. She motioned for her team to move farther down past a bend. Mounted, the quartet moved swiftly and silently, avoiding detection. The skin on the back of Lucy’s neck began to prickle. Something was not quite right. She should have posted a man at the inn and ensured they were to overtake the correct coach.
Her men were awaiting her command. Should she give the order to overtake the coach or follow it to its destination? Second-guessing her plans now would harm her team.
With seconds to spare, she placed her fingers to her lips producing a sound similar to that of a birdcall. At her signal, John and Evan surged forward on horses trained to take direction with the slightest movements from her footmen. With their hands and arms free, the men tackled the outriders, dislodging them and their target to the ground.
After Evan had managed to disarm his target, he jumped the large, hulking man who was about to pound John to the ground. Arms and legs were flying about. Lucy held her breath until her men finally succeeded in apprehending the guard.
Her heart continued to pound as Mr. Smyth jumped from his mount to land beside the startled coachman. Knocking the pistol from the coachman’s hand, Mr. Smyth wrangled the reins and brought the coach to a halt. With quick reflexes, he caught hold of the coachman before he was able to jump and escape.
Sliding from her horse, Lucy began to weave through the trees, making her way closer to the men. The drumming in her ears became louder—she was about to see Blake. How would he react to seeing her again? Running her hand up her neck, Lucy made sure her braid was safely tucked under her cap. Would he recognize her? Palms sweating, she pressed her hands and herself closer against the tree.
Mr. Smyth approached the coach, opened the door and yelled, “Bloody hell! He is not in the carriage.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Miles upon miles of being jostled about. Blake estimated they would have to stop and change horses soon. Feet up against the door, he pushed hard, but there was no give; it was solidly held in place.
How was he to escape? He had been stripped of his possessions long ago. He calculated his probabilities of freedom—slight at best.
The coach was slowing. A male voice instructed their horses to be replaced with fresh mounts. The voice was unfamiliar. The sounds of the horses being led away and then more being rigged up had him hoping they would let him out to relieve himself.
Wood scraped against the coach door, then a bundle of food was hastily tossed inside and the door slammed shut. In his haste, Blake’s captor had not replaced the wood barrier.
A man shouted, “Bouge, pas de temps à perdre!” Move, no time to waste. And the coach was back in motion. Blake devoured the day-old bread, cheese, and apple. With the door unbarred, he repositioned himself, ready to break free.
A bend in the road caused the carriage to sway. Blake’s pulse began to race. This was his opportunity to escape. With strength powered by fear, Blake pushed the carriage door open. Freedom. He drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for the impact to come. He threw himself to the ground and began to roll away from the wheels. Through the haze of dust, he caught sight of the door closing as the coach righted itself. He scampered to the edge of the path and rolled into a shallow ditch. The exhilaration of the escape numbed Blake from feeling the pain that riddled his body.
He needed to get to the tree line. A crushing ache in his ribs had him fighting back shouts of agony as he positioned himself on his hands and knees. He scanned his surroundings once more. Relief flowed through him as there was no sign of the coach or his guards returning. Taking a shallower breath, he stood and hobbled into the woods. Slumped against a tree, he sat and waited for his heart to return to its normal pace.
Blake’s gaze searched for any identifying land marks, but there were none. It was still too light to see the stars, and without any knowledge of the name of the town or coaching inn they had last visited, he was unable to determine his exact location. Giddy at having rid himself of his captors, he needn’t worry, for he had traveled most of the Continent and every part of France. It would only be a matter of time before he could identify his location. Deciding it best to head back in the direction of their previous stop, he pushed himself to stand and was surprised at the lack of discomfort.
Making his way through the woods at a light jog, Blake was surprised and relieved to find his body in far better condition than he’d expected. Only an occasional twinge of pain in his right leg had him halting for breath. Midstride, he spotted movement among the trees. Was it an animal? No. A small boy. Slowly, Blake closed the gap between them.
Blake was within arm’s length of the boy. He was just about to grab the urchin by the collar when a man shouted, “Bloody hell! He is not in the carriage.”
The man’s voice was familiar. Blake narrowed his eyes. Mr. Jones! What the devil was a Home Office messenger doing here?
The boy gasped, but it wasn’t a boy. Reacting out of instinct, Blake wrapped one arm around a small waist and placed his other hand over a lush mouth. His forearm brushed against rounded curves—definitely a woman. What was this woman doing in the middle of the woods?
As the woman continued to wiggle, his intuition told him he had held her before. The woman struggled with a fierceness he had to admire. He leaned in and took a deep breath. Lavender.
His fears confirmed, he asked, “You came to rescue me?”
Lucy immediately froze. He wanted to turn her in his arms and kiss her senseless, but he couldn’t risk her alerting anyone to his presence.
“I’m happy to have you in my arms, but you have just ruined my escape. I had hoped they would not realize I was gone until they had reached their destination.”
Lucy’s muscles tensed, and anger radiated from her. Her jaw moved slightly. Would she bite him to gain her release? The words biting and release had Blake picturing Lucy naked and nipping at his shoulder or arm. Indecent thoughts flooded his mind until he shook them away. Pain radiated up his leg as Lucy stomped on his foot.
Eyes squeezed shut, Blake whispered, “My sweet, I’ll release you, but you must remain quiet.”
Lucy gave a slight nod of acquiescence. Blake loosened his hold, and she spun around so fast her braid came loose. Wide blue-gray eyes blazed at him and raked over his features. Contrary to the fire in her gaze, Lucy spoke in a tone so cold it froze his heart. “You. Are. Welcome.”
Lucy turned and stomped ove
r to Mr. Smyth, who was gathering the captured men and tying them to a tree nearby. Blake must have looked like a fool, grinning after the woman who had ignored his command entirely.
This was not the reunion with Lucy he had envisioned. He had dreamed of her waiting at the docks of Dover for his return, her rushing into his arms and crushing her lips to his with a kiss. He definitely had not anticipated her to be dressed in a great cloak, hair tucked under a cap, hiding in the woods with men at the ready to set upon a bunch of hardened criminals.
Careful to remain unseen, he stood behind a tree that would afford him a full view of Lucy’s activities. She directed her men, waving her hands about, but with purpose. Her gestures and mannerisms reminded him of Wellington, direct and concise, with no hesitation. Who wouldn’t admire those qualities in a person, regardless if they were male or female?
Tapping his fingers against the trunk of the tree, he waited for Lucy to return to him. Would she disclose his position or keep his presence a secret?
Walking straight up to Mr. Smyth, Lucy put a hand on his arm and said, “Mr. Smyth, I need to rethink our strategy.”
Blake had startled her at first; she hadn’t recognized him with a dirty, scruffy beard. Why had she not felt fear as his arm wound around her? Why had her heart fluttered when he spoke in her ear? Should she inform Mr. Smyth that Blake was hiding in the woods behind her?
Deciding it best to keep Blake’s presence a secret for the moment, Lucy glanced up to see Mr. Smyth was awaiting instructions. She imparted, “Please see if you can gain any information, destination, names, et cetera from our guests over there. Let’s reconvene in a half hour. I will be across the way, in sight of John and Evan, but I need space to think.”
Mr. Smyth nodded and proceeded forward to interrogate the men. Lucy was not at all surprised to find he was fluent in French and was more than capable of accomplishing all her requests. Since they had left London, Lucy had also noticed the way Mr. Smyth stood a little closer to her. He gave her looks that lasted an extra second longer than necessary, and she ignored his very kind but direct compliments. She wasn’t entirely sure how to handle Mr. Smyth’s attention, but it only confirmed what Lucy already knew: she was only interested in receiving such attention from one man, and that man was Blake Gower.
Without a word, John and Evan trailed their mistress. They fully understood Lucy’s wishes with just a look from her. They kept their distance but would be able to reach her within seconds if necessary. As Lucy made her way back to the edge of the woods, she found a fallen log upon which she plopped down and stretched out her legs, revealing her breeches. She sensed Blake coming closer; he didn’t reveal himself, but he was close enough to converse.
In a harsh whisper, Blake asked, “What on earth are you wearing?”
Turning her head slightly to look behind her, Lucy did not respond but just raised both eyebrows, followed by a smirk and a wink. Blake was rather handsome with a beard.
Lowering her gaze and tilting her chin to her chest so he would not detect her devilish thoughts, she rolled her head side to side, stretching her neck muscles. Now was not the time to fantasize or consider what Blake’s beard might feel like against her skin.
She was not the only one distracted. Blake teased, “I do love the sight of your legs.”
Hiding her grin, Lucy tried to sound serious and admonished, “Blake, I’m trying to concentrate. Either please be of assistance or move away.”
“Are you asking for my help? Did you want to hear my thoughts on what we should do next?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“I think it best my whereabouts remain unknown to your guests by the tree over there. I would have your associate obtain their destination. It would be risky, but then I’d replace the driver with one of my own and send your associate to accompany him in the coach, pretending to be me…”
All thoughts of kisses were banished as Lucy interrupted, “No, no, no… that won’t do. That would put Mr. Smyth in a perilous position, and the risk is not worth the reward. Are you willing to hear out my plan? Or are you like my brother and assume I’m unable to formulate one?”
“I’m definitely not your brother and hope you don’t see me in such a manner. You sound rather like your brother, asking multiple questions at once without waiting for a reply.”
“Humph.”
“I’m all ears, my sweet. Please share your plan.”
Lucy questioned why he was not more serious. Was he flirting with her now of all times? Putting her thoughts aside, she replied, “I was not expecting you to be wandering the woods. After briefly considering our current situation, I would have to agree with you that your presence should remain unknown.”
Her last words gave her pause as a pang of guilt hit her in the chest. It was irrational, but she didn’t like the implication that she wanted him to remain hidden from all. Shifting on the log, Lucy continued, “Once Mr. Smyth provides the information we seek, you will have to move south and meet me along the path. I will arrange a mount for you. Can you navigate through the woods to Saint-Malo? I have a ship waiting to return us to England. Blake, I’d not take any well-traveled paths if possible. Are you familiar enough with this area to do that?”
Blake kept his face blank; he was still trying to reconcile the fierce young woman sitting calmly with her back to him with the woman who had laughed and kissed him under the tree on Redburn’s property. He was stunned by her brilliance and couldn’t help but grin. “It would be my honor to escort you to Saint-Malo.”
“Blake, I’m not asking you to accompany me to a ball or the theatre. I’m serious. Are you familiar with this area or not? We have the others’ safety to consider in addition to our own. The traitor, Lord Addington, is a known agent with the Foreign Office, and as Matthew informed me, he is one of their best. He is based here in France. His reach and resources must be extensive.”
He turned to stone inside. “Addington, the bastard. I met him briefly at a masquerade party, but he knows I never forget a face. No wonder he so cleverly avoided me. While I have perfect memory by sight, I did not recognize his voice, but now that you mention his name, it all fits perfectly. Tell me what you want or need, and I will always honor your requests to the best of my abilities and protect you at all times.”
It sounded to his ears he was pledging his life and fidelity. Good God, he was in love with the woman.
A declaration of his love tickled the tip of his tongue. Should he tell Lucy she was the reason he never gave up? He took in their surroundings; now was not the time nor the place to have that discussion.
The woman he loved was here on the Continent in search of him. But how was it she came to be here? Had someone sent her? Had she come on her own volition, and if so, why? He wanted—no, needed—the answers before he shared his intentions with her.
Mr. Jones approached, and she stood to meet him but did not venture too far. Smart girl. Blake pressed tighter against the tree, trying to hide his giant form.
“Lady Lucy, unfortunately, the bodyguard was not communicative. Despite my efforts, he refused to disclose for whom they were working. He did share he was the one responsible for hiring the driver. The driver disclosed their destination was Chateau d’Olhain. They were both unaware Lord Devonton was no longer in the coach. I wonder how he managed to escape; he looks more bookish than a man of action.”
Blake flinched. Had Mr. Jones’s specifically made a comment about his appearance to try to draw him out? Mr. Jones was standing rather close to Lucy and had reached out to escort her to the coach. While it was not a full moon, Blake had excellent night vision and no problem seeing the admiration in the man’s eyes as he gazed at her.
Mr. Jones suggested, “I believe it would be wise to move the coach farther into the woods and disable it by removing and splintering one of the wheels, but we should release the horses so they can make their way back to the stables. We can leave our new acquaintances by the tree; it is far enough from
the road, unless you would prefer I take care of them now.”
Lucy pulled her cap lower and adjusted her cloak higher around her neck. She moved with him toward the coach and out of range for Blake to hear the rest of their conversation.
Irritated that he could no longer hear them he pushed away from the tree. Had Lucy intentionally walked away so he would be out of earshot? What did she say to Jones? Was she flirting with him? Anger and an urgent need to possess her flowed through Blake’s body. He nearly leaped out of the woods to lay claim to her. Not knowing how Lucy felt about him had him in knots, and every insecurity he had about himself rose to the forefront of his mind.
Blake had been alone for so long, but now he couldn’t imagine his life without Lucy in it. She was essential to his being. She gave him hope and a future to look forward to. It was excruciating for him not to be able to declare his feelings and whisk her away and hide her at his country estate.
Blake shook his head, trying to clear it and calm his breathing, but his body was tight and full of pent-up energy needing to be released. Knowing his captor’s destination, he surveyed his surroundings. He cleared an area on the ground and with a stick began drawing a map of possible routes from Calais where they docked to Chateau d’Olhain.
After completing the map, he slipped farther back into the woods and paced. Deciding upon the most likely route his captors had taken, Blake began to draw another map, this time routes from his estimated location to Saint-Malo. There were multiple routes they could take, but his dilemma was choosing. Should he lead them on a route that would allow him more time with Lucy, or the most direct route that would get them back to England, where he could propose, marry her, and then whisk her away to the countryside?
The prospect of being back in London and subjected to all the ton’s amusements, balls, clubs, and evenings at the theatre made Blake’s skin crawl. He had much to do at his estate, but first he must determine if Lucy returned his affections.
Secrets of Lady Lucy Page 17