The part she had played on the cliff path had been easy compared to this. Not a soul had been in sight. While waiting for night to fall, she had tried to determine where Lord Kendale lurked. He had been so invisible that she would have doubted he was there, except he was the sort of man one did not dare doubt in any way.
She could move about down here, she supposed. She did not have to remain immobile like this. Darius was not making a sound up above, though, so she would not either. Perhaps he listened at the window, so he would know when someone approached.
It had been a hard parting before he walked up those stairs, loaded pistols in hand. He did not like that she was here, and a scowl never left his face. Except at the very end when, halfway up, he turned and glanced at her. Her breath had caught at his expression of love and worry and anger.
What if they did not come? The sea was calm, but there were other reasons why they might not. She might have to do all of this again tomorrow night, and the night after. She wondered whether Darius would permit that.
The candle in the lantern began to fade. She looked to the window where it sat, to see if it was going to go out. Two eyes moved behind the wavy glass panes, startling her badly. Her heart jumped and began beating fast. She had to force herself not to look up at the ceiling, to where Darius waited.
The door opened. Boot steps and murmurs approached. Hodgson entered and looked around, then gestured. A tall, thin man with dark hair and a military bearing appeared.
She waited to hear yet one more pair of boots, her heart in her throat. No one else came in. These two were alone.
Disappointment drenched her as if a wave of it had broken inside her head. She wanted to both weep and scream. What a fool she had been. She glared at Hodgson, and forced herself to swallow the words of fury and betrayal shouting in her head.
“This here is my friend,” Hodgson said. “He’ll be needing that chamber I talked to you about. This is Miss Fairbourne, Jacques.”
“Joseph,” he said with a scowl. “My name is Joseph.”
Joseph spoke with distressingly good English. He would leave here and just disappear, with English that natural sounding.
“The chamber is ready, as required,” Emma said. “However, I fear that you use it at your peril.”
“How so?” Joseph asked sharply.
“I was not alone the whole time I was making the signal. If you noticed the light not move for a spell, that is why. A man walked by, and took interest in my movements. It might be nothing, of course, but—” Her chaotic emotions caused the words to come out in fits and starts. She hoped they would attribute that to fear.
“Merde.”
Hodgson looked dismayed. “I am sure it is nothing.”
“How can you be sure?” Joseph snapped.
Hodgson’s eyes widened. Emma thought he appeared guilty, obviously so. He heard a challenge that was not there because of his intended betrayal.
“I do not want you found here. I was promised secrecy and safety,” she said.
“I promised you nothing,” Joseph said. He went to the window, gutted the lantern’s candle, and peered into the night.
Hodgson became nervous and agitated. Worry marked his expression. He kept turning to her with questioning eyes, as if he hoped she knew why this change in plans had happened.
She hoped he worried a lot. She was glad he would not go free. He had lied to her, and she had come close to doing something so terrible and dishonorable that even the thought would be considered unforgivable by many people.
“Where is my brother?” she demanded. “You said he would be with you.”
“He, uh—I sent him to that village a bit inland. He didn’t know you would be here—I thought you might like to explain that yourself—and he didn’t see no point in staying with us, once that boat hit English sand. You go to the village in the morning and you’ll find him there.”
Her heart ached to believe him. She sought every excuse to do so. “You are lying. He did not come. I think it was all lies, and even that letter was a forgery.
Joseph looked over his shoulder. “It was no forgery. He wrote it. I saw him do it.”
“Then why is he not here?” she cried. “If you think that I will do this over and over on the vain hope that one day he will walk in that door too, I will not.”
Joseph looked at her calmly. Blankly. “Yes, you will.” He then addressed Hodgson. “We will go now.”
“Now? ’Tis dark. If anyone is lying in wait, we won’t see them until—”
“If we do not see them, they do not see us.”
“You go if you want. I’m thinking to stay right here.”
“You are coming. You were paid to get me to London, and you will do it.”
Hodgson sweated. Emma guessed that having been surprised by the change in plans, he now worried about a much bigger change waiting out there.
When he took too long to agree, Joseph touched the hilt of a knife strapped and sheathed at his waist. Emma held her breath while the threat filled the library.
With a sick expression, Hodgson nodded. He gave Emma a suspicious glare as he passed her. Emma counted their boot steps as they retreated to the front door, and exhaled only when the door closed behind them.
She sat down, to wait some more, until her guests were well on their way. And while she waited she finally succumbed to fear, humiliation, and sorrow. She wept with sobs that pained her, and buried her face in her hands to muffle the sound. She mourned the death of her hope and accepted that Darius had been right. Robert would never come home.
“Emma.” Darius called her name softly down the stairwell a half hour after Hodgson had left.
She came to the stairs and looked up at him.
“Snuff the candles and come up here. It will be hours before anyone arrives to tell us how it all ends.”
She put out the candles, then mounted the stairs. He pulled her into an embrace and pressed his lips to her head while he held her. He had prayed during the last ten hours and he did now once again.
She sank into him, as if standing were too much effort. “I feel as though I have been walking on top of a fence for days, all tight as I managed my balance.”
“Come and get some sleep. You have had little enough of that recently.”
She resisted his attempt to guide her away from the stairs. She sniffed, and he knew then that she had been weeping and still was distraught.
“As you predicted, my brother was not brought home to me.” She buried her face in his coat and began weeping, hard. “I am so ashamed,” she muttered with harsh fury between swells of crying.
He held her while deep, angry sobs wracked her. He caressed her shoulder and arm, hoping to reassure her. “Emma, you saw a duty to your family. Your decision was one that everyone could understand.”
“You are just being kind.” Her voice sounded muffled, broken, and tight. “You would never have considered such a thing, no matter what the coercion.”
“I am glad you are so certain. I am not. There are those for whom I might make the same decision. My sister. You.”
She looked up at him. She appeared touched that he included her. “You might contemplate it, but in the end you would not do it. You would refuse to buy us with treason. You would never agree to be a pawn, nor would you depend on the honesty of criminals either. You would do something noble and brave instead. You would execute a daring rescue of us, like men are wont to do.”
But which women are not wont to do, because the skill and strength are not available to them.
“Come to sleep, Emma. It is finished now.”
It was finished now. No, not quite yet, but it would be very soon.
He did not speak of their passion and love, but that was all she thought about at that moment. How this embrace would not be there for her in the days ahead. How the comfort of his warmth would disappear. She had never been suitable, not even as a mistress, and after what she had done that was even more true.
His fr
iends knew she had agreed to help Hodgson. Soon others in the government would know too. How else would they all explain tonight’s adventure? Miss Fairbourne may have redeemed herself in the end, but that did not cleanse the stain of the sin.
“I am not sleepy,” she said.
“Then just rest in my arms. This will be a long night still.”
“That would be very nice, but it would be a waste to spend the time just resting, don’t you think?”
His kiss said that he understood her well enough. He was a man, after all. She was grateful that he did not act as if she were too fragile right now for such a thing.
“I so love it when you are forthright, Miss Fairbourne. I would have played the chaste knight with you if necessary, but that is not where my blood is.”
She giggled softly into his coat. The sound instantly lightened the mood, and put the day’s dangerous events off to one side, so its shadow touched her only a little instead of owning her completely.
She squirmed out of his embrace and strolled to her bedchamber. A lone candle burned there. She used it to light another near the looking glass. The way the glass reflected the dancing flame reminded her of a ballroom and a candelabra and a magnificent chandelier.
He had his coats off by the time he was across the threshold. He went to work on her dress. “Ambury scolded me for forcing you to make do with this old dress and those boots today.”
“Did you explain they were the first clothes I had worn in more than a day, and that you had most rudely torn my one dress in a fit of impatience?”
“A fit of passion, not impatience. I think of myself as a citadel of patience when it is warranted.”
She insisted on carefully folding and stacking each of the garments. They might be poor but they were not hers. As soon as she was finished, he pulled her to him and laid her down.
She made herself comfortable. She looked around the chamber. “If Papa’s ghost is here, it does not seem to mind.”
“That is not a thought to encourage passion, Emma.” He looked around too. “Do you sense it here? Not that I believe in such nonsense, of course.”
“No. I did before you abducted me—”
“It was not really an abduction, Emma.”
“Before you abducted me, the night before, it was like it had been on my last visit. But today when we arrived, no longer.” She pushed down the shoulders of her chemise and bared her breasts. She joined her hands behind her head so her breasts rose high. “Now, do your worst.”
He caressed and teased her breasts. The most delicious titillation made her sighs deepen. He aroused with his teeth and tongue in the delicate manner that always drove her mad. Pleasure lapped through her and she abandoned herself to its wonderful sensations, concentrating on his scent and touch and warmth, surrendering every part of herself so she might always own this memory.
Soon impatience claimed her as her arousal intensified. She begged him to take her so she might have all of him too.
“Soon,” he said, kissing her stomach and shoving up the chemise. “Not yet.”
She did not wait for his lead when he moved down on her. Instead she bent her knees, spread her thighs, and lifted her hips. He knelt and cupped her bottom and lowered his head in order to take her to paradise.
Darius awoke at first light. He became instantly alert as his instincts warned of nearby danger. He stretched to reach the pistol he had laid on a table near the bed.
As his senses righted he heard the sound that had woken him. Down below, boot steps paced across the floor.
He rose out of bed and silently dressed, then descended the stairs. Sounds drew him to the back of the cottage, and the kitchen. Halfway there he lowered his pistol and ceased trying to walk quietly. He knew the voices talking back there.
“You are not going to steal that food, are you?” Ambury said.
“I am sure the lady will not mind my eating a bit of bread when she hears how close to starvation I was. I was on the sea half the night.” Crockery clattered. “There is some ham here too. Do you want some?”
“Of course not.”
“As you like.”
Darius entered just as Tarrington carved off a thick slice of the ham. From the chair where he lounged, Ambury watched with hungry eyes.
Darius took the platter with the ham from Tarrington, placed it down near Ambury, and proceeded to carve. “Share the bread, Tarrington,” he said over his shoulder.
Half a loaf came flying at Ambury.
“We brought you a horse,” Tarrington said as he ate and looked around. “So, where is our hostess?”
“I believe she is still asleep,” Darius said. Beside him Ambury’s jaw twitched, but to his credit he did not smile. “If you are here, Ambury, I assume you handed off our friends.”
“Hodgson and his guest took the road to London as expected, so it went smoothly. They are now the responsibility of the Home Office agent waiting at the crossroad Penthurst indicated in the letter you received. If their trail runs cold, I will kill whoever is responsible, after all the trouble we went through.”
“I trust Penthurst threatened something similar, so diligence would be employed.”
Ambury stuffed a hunk of bread with ham and feasted. “You do know that it will not take the French more than a few months to replace every spy that is caught.”
“Probably. One can only do one’s best.” He watched Tarrington opening cupboards. “Tarrington, did you stop the boat after it left the shore?”
“Of course. This will shock you, but it was being used for free trade in addition to transporting that spy.”
“So was the last one. It is the cover they have used all along.”
“The last one held a few paltry items. This one was really used for smuggling. Lots of goods on it.” He popped another chunk of bread in his mouth. “I am ashamed to say the lads were ours, not French. It was a galley out of Diehl, no less.”
“They have been using galleys?” Ambury said. “No wonder they have not been caught. Twenty-four men at oars can escape any sloop or cutter. How long is the crossing in a galley?”
Tarrington studied the bread he ate. He shrugged. “I have heard—not that I know myself, now, being a peaceable, lawful sort—that in good weather a galley can make the run in five hours. As for this galley’s crew, they got friendly with the French they deal with in Boulogne, and ended up with this bit of work every now and then too. Hodgson passed the goods for them. It was all very neat.”
It had been neat, Darius thought. A galley rows over to France, loads wine and whatever, accepts letters or special passengers, rows back, and is met by a man willing to arrange the sale of the better goods at an auction house for full price.
“Where are those goods now?” he asked.
“Fell in the sea, they did. ’Twas a pitiful thing to see. I’ve the boat in a nice little cove, in case you want to check.”
Darius was very sure there would be no smuggled goods on that boat now. “And the crew? Were they all English smugglers?”
“Most of them. One seemed not to belong with the others. He tried not to talk, but finally he did. He was an escort, if you will. Of that special passenger.” He continued poking into drawers. “Do you know if she has any tea here? I would not mind a cup.”
“He just offered that information, did he?” Ambury asked. “That was generous of him.”
“Nah. He was persuaded.” Tarrington still concentrated on searching the kitchen.
“A pistol to the temple, no doubt,” Darius said, dryly.
“That was how I was going to do it,” Tarrington said. “But Lord Kendale interfered.”
“I am impressed,” Ambury said. “I would not have thought Kendale would intervene.”
“Most helpful, he was. He showed as how a man who is willing to die is not prepared for less than death. Said in the army they got what they wanted fastest with a very sharp knife threatening the privates of a man. Damned if he wasn’t right. That fat Frenchman saw th
at knife down there and couldn’t talk fast enough.” He came to the table to attack the ham again.
Ambury closed his eyes in forbearance.
“Where is he now? The fat one?” Darius asked.
“With the others, in that cave I have, waiting for your lordships to tell me what to do with them. A few of my lads are keeping watch. Lord Kendale is with them.”
“So we still have the boat, and the smugglers, and the fat man who made sure the special passenger got here safely and met his contact. Only the illegal goods are lost.”
“Right. Bottom of the sea, they are.”
“Ambury, I think we should have a talk with the fat man. The smugglers know from where they put to sea, and this fellow probably knows how to get from there to the lair of those who send the spies in the first place.”
Ambury’s eyes lit. “If you are thinking what I suspect, Kendale will be overjoyed. The admiralty will not like it, however.”
“They cannot stop smugglers from crossing to France, so it is doubtful they can stop us.”
Tarrington’s gaze shifted back and forth between them, following the conversation. “You think to go over? It isn’t as easy as you may think. They have a navy too, and soldiers crowding the coast these days. In the least, you had better bring an army with you.”
“I was thinking more in terms of bringing you and your lads with us,” Darius said. “I am certainly not going to rely on the traitorous smugglers in that cave of yours.”
“No, no, no.” Tarrington waved both of his hands. “I agreed to one night along the coast. Our coast. Not some foolhardy, noble, stupid—”
“Ambury, remind me to ask Kendale what happened to the goods that were on that boat he and Tarrington’s lads stopped last night. Kendale might turn a blind eye, and see it as the spoils of war, but he will never lie outright if the question is put to him.”
Tarrington glared with resentment. Ambury laughed. Tarrington folded his arms and shook his head with resignation. “Hell, you are a hard man, Southwaite.”
“We may pay dearly for this, Southwaite, and I am not talking about the obvious risks to our persons,” Ambury said. “The government does not like its citizens making unauthorized military invasions.”
The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne Page 30