CHAPTER SEVEN
Within minutes they were standing in the shadows at the rear of the coaching inn, studying the now empty stable yard. He could see the two Guards standing just outside of the yard entrance where they had been before. Archie could appreciate why they had chosen that particular spot. The shadows protect them from prying eyes, and their vantage point provided them with a clear view of almost the entire length of the main street. If he was on watch, he would have chosen almost the exact same spot, although he wouldn’t have been as obvious about being on watch. He wondered briefly if he was being set up, and the Guards had been visibly placed there to try to push him into doing something rash. Still, there was little he could do about it now.
Grabbing Cecily’s elbow, he eased her through the shadows to the small carriage that was parked in the depths of the huge barn. Two horses stood munching hay, eyeing them curiously as they passed.
“Get in here, and wait for us to come back,” Archie whispered, opening the door and motioning Cecily into the dark depths.
“What –”
“I’ll bring you some food and drink. You will have to eat on the way, but right now I need to get back to Portia.” Before she does something rash like go to find him, Archie thought cynically, handing a still protesting Cecily into the carriage and closing the door with a firm, but quiet click.
Within minutes he had circuited the inn and re-entered via the front door. To anyone watching, he had appeared from the lane running from the back of the houses and had simply gone back to the pub. Although the Guards studied him as he entered, they made no move to follow him.
Archie rapped rhythmically on the door to the private room but didn’t bother to wait for Portia to open it. Sweeping into the room, he almost groaned at the delicious scents that slammed into him. The odour of pie, meat and potatoes made his stomach growl hungrily, but it was the woman who was sitting at the table that drew his attention. The paleness in her cheeks was replaced by a peachy glow that made her look like an angel, but her beauty was slightly marred by the stain of tears clearly evident on her cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.
His heart flipped at the sight of her distress but he put her emotions down to the traumatic day she had just experienced rather than any disappointment she felt at his reluctance to become involved with her.
She dropped the potato she had been nibbling on as he entered and pushed to her feet.
He sensed her next question. “Cecily is waiting for us. Did the inn keeper leave the baskets I asked for?
Portia sighed, and nodded jerkily. She had cried when he had stalked out. Partly at the sting of disappointment his rejection had brought forth, but she refused to allow him to see how much his lack of attraction to her hurt. She had been swept away by what they had shared in the stable yard and had needed several long moments to gather her scattered wits about her. He on the other hand had continued on as normal, clearly oblivious to the depth of feelings he had stirred within her.
At that moment, she didn’t know whether to hate him or not. She wanted to cry, shout and rage at the unfairness of it all. Although she could say with certainty that she wasn’t going to be heartbroken when he left them, she wouldn’t be honest if she said she wouldn’t miss him greatly. Men like Archie were difficult to replace, and he had stirred her in ways she had never considered possible.
She motioned to the three baskets she had carefully packed. The huge amount of food the inn’s maids had brought in had been simply staggering. Tray after tray of hot and cold meats, pies, fruit and cakes was more than Portia had ever seen in her life. All three of the baskets were now full to bursting. If they were to each have a basket, Portia’s share would take her an entire week to consume at least.
“Can you carry one?” Archie asked, hefting two of the heavily laden baskets and turning toward her. Portia nodded and drew the third basket awkwardly to one side, staggering toward the door with the determination of a terrier with a bone. Despite his lingering anger, Archie fought a smile and nudged the door open for her, nodding for her to precede him.
“Go left when you get out in the corridor and head toward the kitchens.”
Within moments they were skirting around the edges of the stable yard, keeping to the deepest shadows as they made their way toward the huge barn at the rear of the yard. Once there, Archie held the carriage door open and motioned for Portia to climb aboard.
“Thank God you are alright,” Cecily whispered, watching Portia climb aboard and move to sit beside her. The sisters clung to each other for several long moments, before Cecily eased back and tried to study Portia in the darkness. There was very little she could see, but it felt good to have the reassuring presence of her sister beside her.
The baskets were pushed in at their feet before Archie disappeared. The soft chinks of metal and gentle snicker of the horses as they were moved into position told them all they needed to know. Archie was getting ready to leave.
At that moment Portia wasn’t sure she wanted to know just how Archie had managed to obtain use of a horse and carriage so late in the evening, and preferred not to ask any questions. Instead, she lifted the lid of one of the baskets and began to fumble around, handing Cecily a piece of pie and something else she couldn’t quite see moments later.
“Is some of that for me?” Archie asked, motioning to one of the baskets. The horses were hitched and ready to go, but he had to have something to eat.
Portia slid him a basket and watched as it disappeared out of the door. “You ladies stay put and don’t lift the screens.”
“Where are we going?” Portia asked, noting that Archie had changed disguises yet again. He was now a coachman, with straw in his hair and a long, flowing cape. His hair had been rumpled, and he now wore a huge scarf that covered most of the lower part of his face. The disguise was very effective, but Portia couldn’t help but wonder if the Guards standing watch at the gates would fall for it.
“As far away from here as we can get,” Archie replied, closing the door quietly and climbing up to the coachman’s seat. He wanted to slap the horses’ rumps and tear out of the stable yard with all guns blazing, but in deference to the ladies in the back, and the huge basket of food he now had to himself, he kept to a meandering pace that was as unhurried and unaffected as any other coachman’s would be. As they began to trundle slowly out of the stable yard, he sent a silent prayer heavenward that the coachman was too far into his cups to notice his carriage going past the uncurtained window, and that the owners were already in their rooms fast asleep.
Turning carefully out onto the main road, he headed away from Headingly, and flicked the horses into a slow but steady trot. The Guards watched him pass but made no sign of stopping him as he passed and, after flicking them a brief glance, Archie appeared to ignore them. In reality, every sense was on high alert for any sign of imminent threat. One hand clutched the whip tighter in readiness to flick the horses into a fast gallop if needed. Although he knew it was dangerous on these narrow country lanes to go too fast, he was quite prepared to do what he had to do to get away from the area.
Several miles down the road, he leaned down and lifted the lid of the basket, helping himself to a large cloth containing a huge slice of pie, and began to eat. As they passed, he glanced toward the house they had purloined for a few hours earlier that evening, and wrinkled his nose at the flickering light coming from the front room window. Clearly the owners had returned. Whether they alerted others to the fact that someone had been in their house or not, Archie had no idea, but he had clearly collected Cecily not a moment too soon. He winced as the consequences of being only half an hour later swept before him. For once, lady luck appeared to be on his side. He could only hope it would remain that way.
They arrived at the large town of Billington just before dawn. The last few miles had been difficult because they had taken a far more circuitous route than was really necessary in order for Archie to double back and ensure that they weren’t being followed. They w
ere now several miles away from Tissington, heading inland and north. It went against all of Archie’s instincts to head away from the Frenchmen he had been sent to Devon to gather information on, but there was little he could do about it now that he had the ladies in tow. His first instincts had been to stop at the first major town they came to, but then he realised that their father, if not the Guards, would head there first. By passing through, he may have bought them some time.
As he eased the tired horses slowly down the main street, he eyed the various coaching inns. They needed a change of horses if they were to go any further, and he was certain the ladies would welcome a chance to stretch their legs. Making a spur of the moment decision, Archie nudged the carriage into the last inn on the left, pleased when, despite the early hour, an ostler hurried out of the stables toward them.
“We need breakfast and a change of horses,” Archie said around a yawn as he clambered down and furnished the man with several coins. “My charges will need a private room. Can you arrange that?”
“Aye, that we can,” the ostler replied, beckoning to a sleepy stable hand who was stumbling out of the barn.
Archie turned to the door of the carriage just as it was opened, and Portia’s head appeared out of the gloomy depths. His heart lurched at the sight of her slumberous gaze as it swept curiously around the stable yard so very similar to the one they had left the night before. She turned puzzled eyes to Archie as he handed her down the steps.
“Have we gone full circle?” She asked around a yawn. “Please, do excuse me,” she flushed becomingly and turned to stare at the large barn in the far corner of the yard. It was so similar to the Red Lion in Headingly that it could have been the same place.
“No, it isn’t. We are now in Billington, where we will get some breakfast and replenish the baskets before heading out again. I want to get to Hambleton before nightfall. There, I will make contact with my associates and hand you over.”
Portia felt her stomach dip at the matter of fact way he discussed getting rid of them. She and Cecily could have been nothing more than a couple of hat boxes he wanted out of his way, and for some reason, that irked her. Quickly blanking out the small pang of hurt his words brought her, she turned back toward the carriage and called to Cecily, who was still sound asleep. Although she was rumpled and tired, she felt strangely refreshed and more curious than on edge. She didn’t know whether it was because they were away from the imminent threat of the Guards, and their father, but she felt a tiny thrill of anticipation.
Today was going to be a day of fresh starts.
She refused to look at Archie, but was aware that he was studying her carefully as she helped Cecily leave the carriage and walk toward the inn.
Their meal was consumed in relative silence. There was no desultory conversation, or even affable bonhomie, just a wary expectance.
“Can you tell me something?” Portia asked, placing her cup of hot chocolate on the table with a click. When Archie lifted his gaze to hers, she met his eyes boldly. “Is your name really Archie?”
“Yes, it is,” Archie replied, seeing no reason to lie. Although he was honest in his answer, he gave no further information and allowed silence to settle over them once more.
“Do you have a title?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I cannot tell you,” Archie replied darkly, not wanting her to know too much about him for her own sake.
“Who do you work for?” Cecily asked, waiting until Archie turned his cool gaze toward her.
“The government.”
“Who in the government?”
“Just the government. That is all you need to know.”
He watched Portia and Cecily exchange a telling look, and wondered just what the ladies had been discussing on the many hours they had been sequestered into the tiny confines of the carriage.
“Are you really after French spies?” Portia declared, unsurprised when he nodded his head slowly as he cast a furtive glance toward the door.
“So where are you taking us?”
“To meet up with my associates,” Archie replied, again seeing no reason to lie. “They will take you to a place of safety until this is over, and then you can go about your business.”
“We are going to Aunt Adelaide’s house,” Cecily argued, not liking the fact that her future was once again being decided for her by arrogant men.
“I am afraid that is not possible now,” Archie sighed, putting his goblet down and leaning back in his chair. “Portia killed one of the French’s highest ranking spies and, while they may discount his death as a mere triviality, they will want information about who killed him and why. The Guard who saw left the church will be able to give descriptions to his colleagues. Right at this moment, she is as much in danger as I am.”
“But you are going back to Tissington, and the danger may still be there,” Portia protested with a shudder. The thought of returning to Tissington at all, let alone the church, filled her with sickening dread.
“That is what I am trained to do. It is my job. You are not trained to deal with the likes of the men I have been sent to watch. For your own sakes, you need to keep out of the way. My colleagues will secure you somewhere safe until you are no longer at risk.”
“But how long will that be for?” Cecily gasped in alarm. The war could go on for years, and everyone knew it. She couldn’t bear the thought of having her life held in limbo for such a long period of time.
“For as long as is necessary.” Archie hesitated to remind Portia that she had killed Manton and chose his words carefully. “You need protection. My colleagues will assess how much of a risk you are under. If they consider it possible, they may furnish you with new identities and set you up on a new life somewhere far away from here. But that decision is down to my boss.”
Archie felt his stomach churn at the thought of never seeing Portia again, or even knowing how or where she was. It clawed at him with relentless fingers until he wanted to shift restlessly against the raw need to change the course of her life. He hated the raw fear that was clear in the depths of her beautiful green eyes.
“We won’t just leave you there to fend for yourselves. You will be set up in such a way that you won’t need to worry about income, or where you next meal is coming from.”
Archie knew there and then that he would instruct Hugo to ensure steps were taken to provide Portia with everything she needed to live a comfortable life. She just wouldn’t know it was coming from him. He could only hope Jamie would had been honest in his intention to take Cecily to wife, and would come forward with renewed intent once he realised she was away from her father’s dictatorship.
“But what do we do about Aunt Adelaide?” Portia asked weakly. In reality Aunt Adelaide had nothing to do with it. Their elderly aunt wasn’t even aware that the ladies had left their father’s dubious care, and were now missing. She wouldn’t worry if they didn’t turn up.
“You need to decide where you would like to live, but I warn you that it needs to be far away from Devon.”
Portia stared across the table at Cecily as thoughtful silence settled around them. Only yesterday she had been valiantly pushing against the boundaries of her life, but now that the opportunity to really change things was right before her, she was terrified. Like a frightened bird, she wanted to go back into the cage of familiarity she called home, and close the door behind her. A small voice reminded her that the cage also meant marriage to a lecherous old man and, with a shudder of revulsion she pushed away from the table.
If she was honest with herself, she wanted Archie to decide her future with her with a need that was almost relentless. She wanted him declare his affection and offer for her hand the same way Lord Calverton had done for Cecily. But she knew it was impossible. The kisses they had shared last night had meant the world to her, but to him, they had been a mere triviality; another disguise to get them out from under the Guards’ noses. There had been no real affection b
ehind his actions.
“When will we be handed over to your colleagues?” Portia asked in a voice that was almost too calm, and belied her tumbling emotions.
“In a couple of days,” Archie replied with a sigh, wishing he could offer her comfort and ease her fears. “I need to send a message to them, and we will await their arrival at Hambleton.”
Portia was aware of Cecily’s silence behind her, but for the life of her couldn’t turn and meet her sister’s sympathetic gaze. Although she had never voiced her burgeoning affection to Cecily, she was aware that her sister suspected Portia felt something toward this enigmatic man who was still very much a stranger to both of them. Unable to make sense of the strange new feelings, Portia turned away from the roaring fire, and brushed out her skirts.
“If everyone is ready, shall we be on our way then?”
Archie pushed away from the table and ordered the ladies to remain where they were while he dispatched messages to Hugo and Simon. Once he had finished, he escorted them into the coaching yard, handing them aboard the carriage with a gentleness that belied his size.
It took every ounce of fortitude Portia possessed to ignore the flurry of sensual awareness that tingled up her arm as her fingers touched Archie’s hand, and she couldn’t ignore the way that he kept hold of her fingers for longer than was really necessary. When he didn’t immediately relinquish her hand, she reluctantly lifted her gaze until his eyes met hers.
“Everything will work out for you, Portia, I promise,” he whispered softly, aware that Cecily was busy tidying her skirts and pretending not to over-hear. “I won’t let you down.” With that he withdrew and closed the door with a resounding thud.
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