"You play a dangerous game, woman. More dangerous than you know."
"As you once told me, this is no game. Now, move forward slowly and keep your hands where I can see them."
After a moment's hesitation, Ravenhurst shrugged and did as he was directed, feeling the weapon trail across his throat.
Moving just behind him, her eyes trained on his face, Tess guided him across the roof and then step by step down the rear stairway. "I underestimated you once, Lord Ravenhurst, but it is not a mistake I mean to make ever again."
White-lipped, the viscount moved before her, his shoulders rigid, fury licking at his blood. Taken in by a slip of a girl, damn it! And by such an obvious ploy! He must be losing his mind.
A scowl twisted his lean face. That much was certainly true. His mind was decidedly unstable whenever it came to Tess Leighton. Five years had done nothing to change that.
"You'd better start walking, my lord. It's a long way back to town." The foil dropped, playing over his taut stomach. "But only think how much good it will do you. 'Twould be such a shame for you to run to flab, wouldn't it?"
"You won't always have your foils about you, Tess," Ravenhurst growled. "Watch your back, I warn you. One day you will forget, and that's precisely the day you'll find me waiting."
Tess forced a laugh, trying to mask a prickle of fear at his words. "You would accost me in broad daylight at an inn full of people? I think not," she scoffed. "I believe not even you are so brazen, my lord."
Her captive stared at her, his eyes hard with menace. "Then you are gravely wrong, my dear."
A piece of gravel skittered across the flagstone terrace, with a sound so faint that neither Ravenhurst nor Tess paid any attention, their eyes locked in bristling challenge.
So it was that the voice ringing out from the twilight shadows behind them took them equally by surprise.
"God's teeth, now this is a rare sight!"
Chapter Thirty-Seven
"Lord Ravenhurst, I'm thinking," the tall, silver-haired man on the terrace murmured. A black tricorn sat rakishly back on his wavy hair, and a dark, whiskered mask veiled his features.
The only part of his face to be seen was a pair of keen black eyes, which were just now trained on Ravenhurst.
So this is the man who's been combing the countryside looking for me? the Fox thought. Perhaps it was just as well that they finally met, for Jack had a few questions of his own to ask.
"I believe I'll take that from you now, lassie." The smuggler extended a hand for Tess's foil.
"But —"
"Now, Tess. The viscount's come a long way to speak with me, and the least we can do is listen to what he has to say, don't you think?"
Reluctantly Tess handed over the silver foil to the Fox, who lifted it slowly to Ravenhurst's throat. "So we meet at last, Lord Ravenhurst." With his free hand, the smuggler doffed his tricorn and sketched the viscount a little bow, careful to keep his foil poised before the officer's neck. "Do your duties as commissioner of the Royal Military Canal leave you such leisure that you've time to pry into my petty affairs?"
"You are part of my duties, you scoundrel, as you well know," Ravenhurst snapped angrily. "Can you wonder at it, when you add murder to your crimes?"
"My crimes, as you term them, may include many things, but murder is not one of them." The foil advanced, grazing Dane's throat. "And you'll be mindful of that fact, laddie, else our conversation — and maybe more than that — will be at an end. Start moving — we'll talk in the tunnels, where we will not be disturbed."
Ravenhurst's jaw set in a stony line. "You might just as well run me through right here, you bastard, for I've no intention of moving one bloody inch."
"Oh, is that the way of it? And here I was, fancying you had something important to say to me."
Ravenhurst's lips tightened as he fought the urge to tell the smuggler to go straight to the devil. But the Fox was right; he had come in search of this man, more's the pity, and Admiralty orders took precedence over any personal wishes he might have in the matter.
For that reason, and that reason alone, Ravenhurst swallowed his curses unspoken and nodded curtly. "Very well. But what I have to say is for your ears alone." His lapis eyes flickered over Tess's rigid features. "She stays here."
Tess crossed her arms mutinously over her chest. "I have no intention of leaving. This matter affects me as much as it does either of you."
Jack's eyes narrowed within the slits of his mask. "The lass has a point, Ravenhurst. Something tells me you've discovered her mad masquerade already. Keeping her out of this discussion would probably only goad her to do something even wilder. Which, lassie, is something you'll give up any notion of doing," Jack growled, "else you'll feel the heat of my palm on your backside."
Tess began to mumble a protest, but Jack's hard, warning look cut her off. "It's over, Tess. You might as well begin to accept that fact. There'll be no more midnight runs for you! If you take it into that hard head of yours to disobey me in this, I'll make you very sorry."
Ravenhurst's brows rose fractionally. As much as he hated the fellow, Ravenhurst had to agree with the Fox — in this matter, at least. But this was hardly the loverlike talk he had expected. No, the man treated Tess with the gruff concern of an uncle rather than the tenderness of a lover!
"I make my own choices," Tess snapped. "Just as I've always done. You've no hold over me."
"Perhaps not. But you'll do as I say anyway, lass." The Fox's voice changed, harder now, cold with command. It was a voice he had never used to her before, Tess realized, and she could not suppress a little shiver at the sound.
"The blackguard's right," Dane said flatly. "Next time Hawkins won't miss. And if it isn't Hawkins, it will be someone else. A young Revenue officer itching to get his hands on that thousand pounds of reward money, perhaps. Or maybe a loose-tongued neighbor who has seen one strange occurrence too many. I hardly think you'd relish a night spent in Hawkins's care, Miss Leighton." He pronounced her name with cold formality. "He is the sort of man who would enjoy inventing ways to see you pay for making him look the fool."
"I have no intention of —"
"That's just it. No criminal ever does. But somehow it happens. One night your reflexes are off. You make a mistake, even a slight one, and then you're taken. The odds are against you, you see. Even he will tell you it is true."
Jack's lips thinned to a narrow line. After a moment, he nodded gravely. "He's right, lass. Much as it pains me to admit it."
Ravenhurst shrugged. "Are we going to talk or are we to stand here arguing the night long? The entrance to the tunnel must be very close, I think." His lapis eyes searched the granite wall. "Over there, I would guess."
Tess checked a gasp. How long had he known her secret?
The viscount smiled grimly. "I and my men have been watching this place for weeks now, Miss Leighton. There's very little I don't know about Fairleigh. Or about you," he added darkly.
"Go and open the tunnel, lass," Jack muttered, after a brief hesitation.
"But he'll see —"
" 'Tis a bit late for that. He'd have discovered the way of it himself soon anyway."
Tess snorted, mumbling beneath her breath. Leave it to men to band together against a woman. Only give the two a few more hours together and they'd be thick as thieves!
Turning her back, she searched until she found a small rectangular stone near the base of the wall. There was a faint click. A moment later a door opened in the wall of stone.
Ravenhurst's eyes followed her, missing no detail, including her attempt to conceal her movements. "Very clever, Miss Leighton, I applaud you. I might have stood directly before the stone and never even have seen the catch."
Tess permitted herself a tight little smile. "But that is exactly what you have done, my lord. On two occasions, I believe."
Ravenhurst's eyes flashed back at her, dark with a promise of revenge.
Tess merely shrugged, tossing her auburn curls o
ver her shoulder and tugging open the door. Cold, stagnant air rushed up out of the tunnel. As always she shivered, feeling tiny fingers of fear play over her skin.
Why could she never forget? Why did the nightmares keep coming back to haunt her?
Frowning, she shook her head, realizing the two men had moved past her into the tunnel.
In a few minutes they were below, ranged in the small, granite-walled room, a candle flickering upon an upturned barrel. "So, Lord Ravenhurst," the Fox said softly, leaning back against the cold stone wall. "Now perhaps you'll tell me what is so urgent that you track me over marsh and weald? Or have I read your character wrong? Is it merely the lure of gold guineas that brings you after me?"
For long moments the viscount stood motionless, studying his opponent. His expression was unreadable, but the tightening of his fists bespoke an inner argument of fierce intensity.
Tess's eyes narrowed. She felt a faint prickling in the far recesses of her mind, almost a sense of warning.
But then Ravenhurst turned, his lean, angular face cast in shadows, and the elusive sensation fled.
Smothering a curse, the viscount plunged his hands into his pockets and began to pace the narrow space. "It is indeed gold guineas that makes me dog your steps."
Jack's eyes darkened; his fingers tightened on the foil.
Ravenhurst allowed his lips to twist in a slight smile. "Oh, I don't mean the reward for your capture, man. It's the gold guineas bound for France I'm after, those that leave this coast under cover of darkness. One way or another, I mean to stop whoever is behind that damnable trade, for each cargo prolongs this cursed war by buying bread and arms for Boney's men. Now, especially, we can ill afford —" With a low curse, Ravenhurst bit off the words he had been about to say.
"Don't stop now, laddie. I vow you fair begin to intrigue me."
"I've said more than enough already, you scoundrel. Seeing as you, by all accounts, are the leader of that band of traitors."
Jack's eyes snapped. "Then all the accounts are wrong! My men carry brandy and silks, not the guineas you speak of." The smuggler stiffened. "But you knew that already, didn't you? You simply wanted to see my reaction to the charge." Abruptly the tip of the Fox's foil rose, grazing Ravenhurst's neck. A tiny bead of blood oozed out beneath the unwavering point. " 'Tis canny you are, laddie. But a great deal too brash for a man who might meet his Maker any second."
Ravenhurst's eyes did not waver. "I think not ... Jack, is it not?" The viscount's lips curled in triumph as the smuggler's foil froze. "You need me far too much to consider murdering me. Not yet, at least, for I'm the only one who can help you find the impostor who is blackening the Fox's name."
"What makes you think I need your help in that?"
"Because if you could have found the man alone, you would have done so already. No, in this our interests coincide, for I'm seeking the same man, the traitor who organizes the passage of gold to the French. Who else would have such a good reason to see you hated and driven out of the marsh? Yes, our man must find your presence a decided hindrance to his free maneuvering here."
The Fox's foil wavered, then slowly moved away from Ravenhurst's throat. The smuggler uttered a dark laugh. "I can name probably fifty men who would like to see me gone, and that number comes to mind without giving any serious consideration to the question. But you interest me vastly, and I'd have you continue." Since the end of the Fox's epee was still scant inches from the viscount's throat, this silky request carried something of the weight of a royal command.
"Very well. But first ..." In the candlelight, the planes of Ravenhurst's face were harsh, his features seeming sculpted from cold marble. Very carefully, he pushed the foil away from his neck. For an instant his eyes flickered to Tess, who had seated herself on the pallet of straw near the entrance to the tunnel. Then with a faint shrug he plunged into his tale. "I've been searching for the traitor for weeks, but the man is damned clever. He keeps always to the shadows and confides his plans to no one in advance. His men are few, handpicked for their absolute loyalty. And for their ruthlessness, I might add. So far, we have been unable to plant an agent in their ranks. We have sent our own men along with the outbound gold, of course." Ravenhurst's voice hardened. "None has lived to tell what he has seen. All except a young officer named Thorpe, who was found seconds from death in Fairleigh Cove." His eyes rose, seeking Tess's face. "You remember him, do you not, Miss Leighton? He was hardly more than a boy, yet whoever discovered his identity had no qualm about slitting his throat. His last words, as it happens, were of you."
Tess felt a frisson of fear brush over her. Well she remembered the genial blond young gentleman. For a fortnight he had been a guest at the Angel, explaining his presence by an ardent interest in natural science and the marsh's unusual flora.
His act had been good enough to fool Tess, but apparently not the man he had most needed to fool.
"Oh, yes, the Admiralty hushed the affair up soon enough," Ravenhurst continued. "Wouldn't do to have the bastard realize we were on his scent."
Tess swallowed. Had Ravenhurst laid the blame for the boy's death at her door? "But you couldn't possibly believe that —"
"I believed nothing, Miss Leighton," the viscount interrupted coldly. "I accepted the possibility of everything, however. After all, the body was found washed up on Fairleigh land. And there have been frequent sightings of cargoes landed in the vicinity, everywhere from Pett Level to Camber Sands. What could make a better haven than a nearly derelict house, perched on a rise that commands a view of the entire coast from Winchelsea to Dungeness?"
Tess sprang from the pallet, angry emerald sparks flashing in her eyes. "Enough! You are foul and contemptible! Fairleigh was never used for such purposes. Oh, maybe for a run or two —"
"A wheen more than one or two, lassie," Jack murmured.
"Why are you agreeing with him?" Tess blazed at Jack. "He is your enemy as much as mine! You must see that."
Jack's eyes were unfathomable beneath his mask. " 'Tis naught but death that's certain in this life, lassie. That means the man who is today your enemy may tomorrow be your firmest friend. Let the man continue."
Tess snorted angrily, sinking back onto the pallet.
"You may save your self-righteous tirade, Miss Leighton. I have lately come to the same belief. Had I not, you may be certain I would not be here talking with you. For you, my dear, would be in a Dover jail right now awaiting sentencing."
"Children, children," the Fox murmured equably. "Don't let us fall to squabbling. We'll need all our wits about us if we're to catch this fellow."
Tess's fingers tightened in her lap as a painful memory resurfaced. "He's called the Eagle, isn't he?"
Two pairs of startled eyes darted to her face.
"How did you —" the two men demanded in unison.
"His name was — was mentioned in my hearing. Do not ask me more than this. So he is the man you are searching for." It was no longer a question; the hardness in their eyes had already answered Tess's question. "How do you plan to trap him?"
Neither man seemed eager to answer her, both having secrets to conceal.
Tense seconds passed. Ravenhurst studied the Fox, trying to assess just how much the man already knew, and how far he could be trusted. "You know about the next shipment?" he asked tersely.
Jack nodded.
"And you have the point of rendezvous?"
"Unfortunately, no. But I have hopes that a certain meeting later tonight may shed some light on the details." His smile was grim.
Abruptly Ravenhurst ceased his pacing. A muscle flashed at the hard line of his jaw. "I'm going with you."
"Impossible, I'm afraid. You'd be spotted a league away and then we'd both be dumped from the edge of a cliff. Nay, this meeting is for me and me alone. But I would not be above accepting a bit of assistance before the event."
"What sort of assistance?"
"It strikes me that since the Fox already has two impostors" — here Jac
k flashed Tess a dark look — "he might just as well have one more. Aye, a bonny way to put a spoke in the wheel of anyone who might be following with mischief on his mind."
Ravenhurst looked unconvinced. "How am I to know that this isn't merely a ruse — that you don't have your men hidden in some deserted cove waiting to dispose of me?"
"For one thing, laddie, I need you too much to see you murdered now, just as you've guessed. As for the rest ..." The smuggler shrugged. "You'll just have to take my word for it."
"I suppose I have very little choice," the viscount said curtly.
Tess listened to this interchange in growing disbelief. Did Jack really plan to strike a bargain with this arrogant, infuriating Crown officer? He must be mad!
"To work, then," Jack said crisply, reaching down to tug a stone from the wall. As Tess watched, wide-eyed, he removed a black bundle, which he tossed to Ravenhurst. "You'll be needing these. It should be dark by now, but not yet moonrise. A bonny time for a smuggler to be abroad, it is. Now, listen carefully. Follow the Rye road until you come to a fork just beyond the Level. 'Twill take you to a windmill, and there you can rest before changing back to safer attire. Aye, your timely appearance should draw away anyone who might think of following me."
"I don't believe what I'm hearing!" Tess cried, jumping to her feet. "This whole thing is mad! The meeting you spoke of might well be a trap, Jack. And how do you know that he" — she eyed Ravenhurst suspiciously — "hasn't sent a group of preventive men into hiding to wait for you?"
"Difficult questions, lassie. Aye, difficult to be sure. But the truth of it is that I have no choice. No more than our viscount does. But either way, you're to stay out of it, do you hear? I will not have your blood on my conscience."
"But —"
Jack's eyes were cold behind the mask. "Enough, Tess. The rest must be left up to us."
Stony-faced, Tess stared back at him. Who was he to issue her orders? She would simply wait until they left and then —
"Don't even think of it, lass. If you do not stay clear of trouble tonight, I'll keep on riding and never return. 'Tis a promise, that."
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