A Scandalous Proposition

by Wendy Soliman

  She smiled. “Adam, we’ve been together in this summerhouse every night since the masquerade. And you’ve called every day at the dower house when you know I’ll be there. What more could you possibly do? Please don’t concern yourself about me. I’m accustomed to taking care of myself.”

  “Yes, but if someone is watching you, I’d very much like to know why.”

  “They can’t know about our trysts here, if that’s what concerns you. I’ve not felt eyes watching me when I come to meet you at night.”

  “That’s the very least of my worries.” He kissed the pulse that was beating at the base of her throat. “I’m not ashamed of you, or of our relationship, and were it not for the damage it would do to your reputation I shouldn’t care who knows about it.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, but I wouldn’t permit you to shout about us. I don’t care for my reputation but I wouldn’t publicly embarrass your mother.”

  Adam waggled his brows at her. “You think she doesn’t already know?”

  “Oh, Lord, I certainly hope she doesn’t. Whatever must she think of me?”

  “I suspect she adores you almost as much as I do.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that.” The compliment appeared to fluster her. “I’m more concerned about Philippa. I’d very much like to know what she intends to do to make mischief for me. Not that I fear her, you understand, I merely wish to prepare myself.”

  Adam chuckled. “If she has one iota of sense, she’ll think twice before taking you, or my mother, on.”

  “Perhaps she’d agree with you since her call at the dower house yesterday.” Florentina laughed. “Your mother was magnificent, and the duchess left not knowing what to think. She called, obviously intending to overset your mama with intelligence of a forthcoming party she plans to hold for a rather unsavoury selection of guests. When the dowager merely smiled and told Philippa that the company was no less than she deserved, I don’t know how I kept my countenance. Philippa expected to shock but was the one who finished up being discomposed. I’ve never admired your mother more.”

  “Philippa would be ill-advised to underestimate her.” Adam’s hands had abandoned Florentina’s breast and were exploring the soft inner surface of her thigh. “I’m glad now that I warned her what to expect.”

  He intensified the pressure of his fingers, which had now reached the apex of her legs. Florentina gasped as he sank them into her. She flung her arms ’round his neck, burying her face in his shoulder and gently nipping at it.

  “Oh, that was rather nice.”

  “Rather nice, ah?” He chuckled. “I was hoping for a more enthusiastic response.”

  “Then you must work for it.”

  “Hussy!”

  Adam’s mouth covered hers, hot and hard, demanding and receiving her complete capitulation. He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him, still kissing her with a brutal passion that sent fire coursing through his veins. Never had he been more conscious of the physical alchemy between them. She shed her inhibitions in the manner he adored and cried out with such wild abandon that the sound left dents in his already vulnerable heart. On this occasion he let her take the lead, and she took every inch of him inside her, too desperate to exercise the patience he was trying to instil into their lovemaking.

  Afterward Adam held Florentina in his arms and watched her sleep, the shadows of late afternoon reflected in the windows of the summerhouse. For him sleep was impossible. His mind was occupied with thoughts of who could be keeping her under observation. Philippa was the obvious culprit. But if she was behind it, he doubted whether she’d undertake the surveillance herself. And so whom would she trust to watch Florentina? King perhaps? She’d find a disquieting sense of poetic justice in setting that particular course of action. He must desire Florentina all the more because she’d rejected him, and be anxious for revenge too. Were he to come upon her whilst she was alone, there was no saying what action jealousy might direct him toward. Adam scowled, unprepared to take that chance. He would find a way to ensure that she never ventured out alone until this business was done with.

  Damn it all, let Dawson make landfall soon.

  Adam’s wish was granted the next afternoon. He received notice from Lord Madison that Dawson’s frigate had been sighted making for Langstone Harbour. He’d chosen his landing ground well. The bay was inaccessible to those who had no business there, especially at low tide, when a long stretch of mud flats separated dry land from the sea. High tide was at midnight tomorrow, which was undoubtedly when Dawson would make for land with his cargo of refugees.

  He called at the dower house that afternoon and informed his mother and Florentina that the waiting had come to an end. Florentina was still implacably determined to accompany him.

  “I will collect you at ten o’clock,” he said to her. “Be ready to leave then.”

  They set out on time. Adam rode Rochester, and Florentina, dressed in male clothing, was astride a spirited chestnut gelding. Lord Madison and just one of his men rode with them. The others had been sent ahead to reconnoitre.

  “They’ve taken two barouches for transporting the refugees,” Madison explained. “They’ll be easier to conceal than something more commodious.”

  They travelled swiftly and mostly in silence, grim determination and a joint sense of purpose replacing any need for conversation. Tonight the moon was playing them false. There was heavy cloud cover, making visibility difficult, and rain threatened.

  By the time they reached Langstone Harbour, the first heavy drops were falling and there was a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Adam and Florentina dismounted. He pulled her cap low over her eyes and lifted the hood of her cloak to protect her from the worst of the elements. And to disguise the long strands of her hair already escaping, framing her face like a soggy curtain as rainwater dripped from their ends.

  Lord Madison’s man reported that The Albatross had dropped anchor an hour earlier but so far no one had attempted to row to shore.

  “The tide is not quite full,” Adam said. “They’ll wait at least another half hour and so must we.”

  “Reynolds is not yet here either,” Lord Madison observed. “I doubt if Dawson will risk making shore until he knows he’s in place. He can’t afford any delays.”

  “Keep a sharp lookout and let us know the moment he approaches,” Adam said to Madison’s man.

  “Aye, m’lord.” The man doffed his cap and disappeared into the night.

  Adam and Florentina settled down to wait in the lee of the dunes, a little apart from Lord Madison. Florentina was shivering so Adam drew her close, thinking the rain must be penetrating her clothing. She shook her head when he asked her about it.

  “No, it’s not that.” She glanced over her shoulder for what must have been the twentieth time. “It’s just that I have that feeling again. The one I experienced at the Court when I thought I was being watched.”

  “Madison has his men all over the area, so it’s not to be wondered at.”

  “Yes, perhaps that’s all it is.”

  But she didn’t sound convinced. Adam cursed his stupidity in allowing her to accompany them. He’d known all along that it was a bad idea and he should have stood firm. He didn’t like seeing her so agitated and was more concerned with offering her comfort than with the operation in hand. Knowing that was a fundamental mistake, he made do with squeezing her hand and disciplined himself to focus.

  It was raining very hard and by the time a signal flashed from The Albatross, the wind was whipping the sea into a maelstrom of frothy white caps.

  “At last!” Adam released Florentina and stood ready for action, cursing when a response to the signal emanated from a spot a half mile farther along the cove. “Damn, we’re in the wrong place!”

  “Aye, that we are.” Lord Madison strode beside Adam as they headed for their horses. “No wonder we saw no sign of Reynolds. This is the obvious landing spot but they’re being cautious.”

  “They w
ere expecting us, you mean?”

  “It looks that way. The next cove along is full of rocks. Dawson must be very sure of the safe passage ashore, especially in this weather.”

  “Reynolds must have got to the alternative landing place by taking that small track we dismissed as being too narrow for a carriage.” Adam was annoyed with himself, aware that he wouldn’t have overlooked that possibility if he’d not been so concerned about Florentina.

  They rode part of the way to the next cove but couldn’t risk getting too close. They’d lost the advantage of surprise and must now waste valuable time creeping up behind Reynolds and his accomplices. That wouldn’t be so easy to achieve since they were obviously expected.

  “Stay here,” he said to Florentina in a firm tone. “Conceal yourself behind the trees and we’ll come for you when the danger is over.”

  Florentina looked at him with a scornful expression. “Absolutely not! I haven’t come all this way merely to be a spectator. I stay with you.”

  Adam didn’t have time to argue with her. “All right, but keep back and do exactly as I say.” He fixed her with a stern gaze. “I can no longer anticipate what will happen.”

  “I’ll not be a burden.”

  The rest of Lord Madison’s men had caught them up and the party now numbered six, excluding Florentina. Adam was pleased to find that they all knew how to move with stealth. He was grateful now for the lack of moonlight. For the noise of the rain, the rumbling thunder and the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks. They were able to gain a position just behind Reynolds and the three men he had with him. They could see their outline clearly as they lit a beacon to guide the wherry in from The Albatross.

  Their attention was focused on the approaching boat. A man was visible in the bows, shining a light directly in front of the tiny vessel as it bobbed and rocked on the rolling sea. He called directions to the men on the oars, his voice growing more distinct as the boat got closer to the shore. One moment the craft was plainly visible as it crested the waves, the next it shot forward and completely disappeared from view. Adam was astonished that the bowman managed to keep his lantern burning and felt a reluctant stab of admiration for his skill.

  “Get ready,” he said when the wherry reached shallow water and Reynolds’s men scrambled knee-deep into the mud to pull it ashore. “Wait for my command.”

  Adam counted five people wrapped in thick cloaks being lifted from the wherry and carried to dry land. They stood huddled together, watching as bundles of merchandise followed and then some casks, presumably French brandy. Adam, icily calm now the time for action had finally arrived, waited for the last of the contraband to be unloaded, lulling Reynolds and Dawson into a false sense of security by not showing his hand too early.

  Reynolds was on edge. He kept glancing over his shoulder, right at the position where Adam and his men were concealed. After a time, when no one attempted to intercept them, he appeared to relax, his booming voice boasting to Dawson that they’d outwitted their pursuers. “But if that traitorous Spanish whore does bring Fitzroy here,” he said, “I’ll be glad to kill ’em both.”

  “Now!”

  Adam had dispatched two men to disable those left in charge of Reynolds’s carriage back on the main road. He led the remainder of them into the fray. Madison was confident that they all knew exactly what to do, which was why Adam couldn’t understand why someone fired a shot into the air before they were in a position to secure the refugees and cut off Dawson’s means of escape by disabling the wherry.

  Dawson reacted with lightning speed, turning to the refugees and speaking to them in urgent Spanish. But Adam was just as fast. He lunged forward and literally grabbed as many of the bewildered girls as he could. Florentina was at his heels, calling to them in their own language, entreating them to follow her away from danger. They were bewildered and didn’t seem to know quite whom to listen to.

  Adam heard an urgent shout behind him, even above the chaotic noise. He instinctively turned—and thought his eyes were deceiving him. A woman—Philippa’s double?was charging toward him, frantically waving her arms.

  “Adam, it’s a trap! Leave here now.”

  “What the?”

  She grasped his arms. “Go, go, leave whilst you still can.” Her tone was frantic.

  “What on earth—”

  “Mrs. Grantley has lured you into a trap. She’s a traitor. I heard them say so. You must go now or you’ll be killed.”

  Adam barely heard her. His attention was focused squarely on the fight that would soon ensue. He knew better than to allow himself to be distracted in such situations but wasn’t altogether surprised when Dawson’s men, outnumbered by a better armed and disciplined force, made a mad dash for the wherry.

  He started to pursue them, calling to his men to follow him, when Philippa grabbed his arm, seemingly desperate to stop him. He diverted his attention from activities for a moment in order to shake her off. Without warning, someone lunged at him from behind. Adam threw Philippa out of harm’s way and tackled the man, both of them grappling for supremacy in wet sand that made it difficult for either of them to gain proper purchase.

  Adam had almost bested his foe when a knife flashed in the hand of his adversary, missing Adam’s face by a whisker. He twisted the man’s wrist without mercy until he heard a sharp snap. The man cried out and dropped the knife into the water seeping up the sand.

  Adam staggered to his feet in time to see Philippa being pushed toward the wherry by one of Dawson’s men. He didn’t hesitate to go after her. Whatever she’d done, however she’d tricked her way into his family, she was still his brother’s wife.

  The man with the broken wrist, now whimpering at his feet, delivered a vicious kick to Adam’s shin, sending him reeling. He cursed his stupidity. The scar on his chest throbbed a timely reminder that wounded opponents are often the most dangerous. He wasted precious seconds righting himself and rendered the man unconscious with one massive punch. He then hastened toward the wherry, devastated to observe that he was too late. Dawson had already bundled Philippa aboard, along with one of the other girls, and was ordering his men to push off.

  Wondering if he was hallucinating, Adam turned back to the action in time to see Reynolds and one of his men being subdued by Madison’s men. The other two ran off, presumably hoping to reach their horses. But Adam had anticipated that possibility and had men lying in wait for them.

  In spite of this minor victory, the whole episode was a complete farce. Adam couldn’t risk firing at the wherry since the fate of the females on board was his primary concern. Even if the girls could swim—and he knew Philippa couldn’t—in this rough sea they’d never survive. The current had already put a considerable distance between the shore and the wherry.

  How the hell was he going to rescue Philippa? He could contact the Admiralty and ask them to intercept The Albatross, but Dawson’s ship was fast. He knew he’d been rumbled and wouldn’t wait around for capture. It was hopeless!

  “Where is she? What have you done with her?”

  A man whose voice sounded familiar came hurtling out of the trees, madly waving his arms about. One of Madison’s men fired at him, presumably thinking he was one of the smugglers. The occupants of the wherry returned fire toward the party on shore. Two of Madison’s men instinctively responded, in spite of Adam’s clipped command not to. They hit the small boat and those on board cried out desperately as their small craft began to sink almost immediately.

  Adam cursed and searched the shoreline in the vain hope of finding a rowing boat—anything that would propel him toward Philippa—even though he knew the chances of reaching her were slim. The frantic cries of distress from the wherry were terrible and could still be heard even above the crashing noise of the storm.

  The man who’d emerged from the trees clutched his arm where the bullet had winged him and staggered to the water’s edge.

  “Philippa!” he cried desperately. “Philippa, where are you?” His vo
ice was carried away on the wind.

  The man turned toward Adam. “Where is she?” he said again. “Where’s Philippa?”

  “Dennett? What the devil—”

  They watched impotently as the boat slowly sank beneath the surface of the raging sea. A deathly hush fell across the beach. Even the torrential rain had eased and the sound of the waves breaking against the shore seemed suddenly subdued.

  “Oh, God!” Adam dropped his head into his hands. “You brought your sister here?” He stared at the man, still hardly able to believe it. “Why the devil would you do something so foolhardy?”

  “She wanted to know what you were doing. She’s been watching you.”

  Adam and Florentina exchanged a brief glance. Someone had been watching her, just as she’d supposed. But that someone had just perished in a storm-tossed Solent, taking the child she carried with her to her watery grave.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Florentina watched helplessly as Dennett followed the direction of Adam’s eyes. He was looking out to sea, at the spot where the wherry had gone down so quickly that it might never have existed. The Albatross had been too far away to come to the aid of the wherry. The water was too shallow, the rocks too savage for a boat with such a deep keel to come in so close. By now it was doubtless sailing to safety without its captain.

  “She was on that wherry?” Dennett frantically stripped off his coat. “What are we waiting for, Fitzroy? Come on, we must save her.”

  “It’s too late for that.” Infinite gentleness underscored Adam’s tone. “She’s gone and so will you be if you attempt to get into that raging sea. No man could survive such conditions for more than a few minutes. A woman would perish even more quickly.” He closed his eyes and dipped his head at Dennett. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “She can’t be gone.” Dennett stared about him, wild-eyed, tugging at his clothing and hair. “She must still be here somewhere. We were together in the trees but she wanted to get closer to see what all the commotion was about. I tripped over a root and by the time I picked myself up, she’d gone.”