by Regina Scott
Demoted? Yvette had once served the Empress Josephine but had been forced from the court when the Emperor divorced his wife. Yvette had maintained her connections at court, so she could continue sending information to England. Undene had to mean someone else.
“Surely not the ladies,” Harry pressed.
Undene’s large hands cradling his tankard. “A close relation. Some men think their ladyfolk must be kept close.”
A close relation? Yvette’s cousin must have discovered her secret. The creature had joined the Revolution to save his own neck, curried favor with Napoleon to line his own pockets. He’d have been happy to see Yvette cut down if it furthered his ambitions.
“How close?” Harry asked.
“In Calais under heavy guard, I hear,” Undene murmured. “It might be wise to visit soon. That town can be dangerous.”
Yvette could expect no help from her countrymen. Someone from England would have to extract her. He drew in a breath.
“Will you be travelling?” Harry asked.
“Soon,” Undene said.
Harry nodded. “I’ll send word to our friends in London. Just be advised you will need larger transport this time.”
Undene frowned even as his men shifted, muttering. “Larger? What cargo will we be carrying?”
“Something precious,” Harry said. “A woman’s life, and my own. Now, let’s go somewhere we can talk further about our upcoming visit, and its potential consequences.”
Chapter Ten
Patience managed to return to the house with no one being the wiser, except Mr. Cuddlestone. The butler let her in the kitchen door, then peered out into the darkness. “Did you see him, miss?”
Patience sighed. “Yes. He said he was on his way to the village to meet with friends.”
Mr. Cuddlestone drew back to frown at her. “Friends? What sort of friends could a valet have in Foulness?”
Now Patience frowned. “Valet?”
Mr. Cuddlestone shut the door. “Mr. Teacake. The fellow made short shrift of his work with his master tonight, then disappeared on me. Emma said you were out with the master. I thought you might have seen the miscreant.”
“No, sorry,” Patience said, plucking at the cloak’s clasp. “I seem to be singularly inept at this subterfuge.”
“Now, then,” the butler said in a commiserating tone. “You’re a lady. Why would you do well with all this skulking about? You just leave the matter to Sir Harry. He knows what he’s about.”
Patience met his gaze, on a level with her own. “And what is he about, Mr. Cuddlestone?”
He blinked, paling. “Why, what he’s usually about, of course.”
“And that is?” Patience pressed.
The butler raised his head, making him an inch or so taller though still no higher than her. “I’m sure I couldn’t say, Miss Ramsey. Shall I see you to your room?”
“Not unless you can find it in your heart to be more forthcoming,” Patience said.
He shifted on his feet, gaze dropping. “I regret that I cannot, miss. But pose your questions to Sir Harry. You’re his betrothed. Surely he’ll tell you the truth.”
If only she was so sure.
She followed the servant’s stair back up to the chamber story and slipped into her room, where she found Emma waiting. The maid swallowed a yawn as she helped Patience change.
“I’m sure Sir Harry was glad for your help,” she said, bustling about with her usual efficiency. “It can’t be easy being alone on the shore, waiting.”
Patience turned to give her access to the back of the corset. “Alone on the shore?”
“Yes, miss.”
She could feel the stays loosening, but Emma seemed to have run down like a clock in need of winding. As the maid pulled the corset free, Patience turned to meet her gaze.
“What is Harry doing on the shore?”
Emma tsked. “Now, then, I’ve said too much. Mr. Cuddlestone is always warning me to watch my tongue. You will say something you oughtn’t he’s claimed more than once, and see if he wasn’t right.” Sweat glistened under the rim of her ruffled cap. “Let’s get you into bed, miss. Tomorrow will be a brighter day.”
She didn’t believe that either.
Still, the bed felt so soft, the covers so warm, she could feel her muscles relaxing. Subterfuge was certainly tiring. However did Harry manage it every day? As weary as she was, she ought to have been fallen asleep immediately. But she found herself lying awake, listening for a footfall in the corridor, a knock at the window. She got up twice to make sure Harry wasn’t lying on the balcony, wounded. When she finally fell asleep, it was to frantic dreams in which she searched for something unknown.
The morning wasn’t much better. Emma was decidedly tight-lipped as she helped Patience dress, then dashed off to help the other ladies. The maid knew something, Mr. Cuddlestone knew something. Surely, they wouldn’t condone an affair or anything illegal. So, what was Harry doing at the shore in the middle of the night? Patience might not be Harry’s betrothed, but she very much feared if she didn’t learn the truth soon, she’d go mad. She hurried down to the dining room early, hoping for a moment with Harry and found only the butler.
“He returned before midnight,” he murmured, pouring her a cup of tea. “Already up and shaving.”
He seemed to think this very good news.
Gussie beat Harry to the table. She sailed into the room, waved off Mr. Cuddlestone’s offer of toast, and plunked herself down next to Patience. “I have had an inspiration.”
As if to prove as much, her eyes were shining, her skin glowing above her purple wool gown. Patience smiled at her. “Oh?”
“Eggs,” Gussie said. “They contain all that is needed to nourish a chick. It stands to reason they would nourish skin as well.”
Patience dropped her gaze to her tea. “But would any lady apply raw egg to her face?”
“She would if it improved her complexion,” Gussie insisted. She rose. “Hurry and finish. I’ll be in the laboratory. This might take all day.”
“But your guests,” Patience protested. “We promised to take them on a drive.”
Gussie waved a hand. “Later. I’ll ask Meredith to play hostess in our absence. I’m sure she can contrive.”
And there went Patience’s opportunity to question Harry. Though she tarried as long as she could over breakfast, he did not appear. She finally had to quit the room and go help Gussie.
But her day did not improve in the laboratory. She managed to break shells into Gussie’s concoction twice, requiring that they toss it all out and start over. She had to beg more eggs from Cook, who complained about sabotaging the meal plans. And when they had finally successfully added all the ingredients and begun stirring, the noxious fumes made her gag.
“Are you certain this will work?” she asked Gussie. “I can only question the consistency and the appearance.”
Gussie frowned as she peered into the pot, then wiped at her watering eyes. “We cannot give up so soon.”
Patience dropped the spoon into the liquid. “And it stinks.”
Gussie glanced up at her. “Why, Patience, it’s not like you to criticize.”
Patience sighed. “You’re right. Forgive me. But look at it, Gussie. No lady would ever allow that in her house, much less on her face.”
“Perhaps if we bring it to a boil,” Gussie said, “burn off the more obvious elements.” She turned up the flame on the spirit lamp.
Now Patience’s eyes were watering. “Please, Gussie, just turn it off,” she begged, backing away.
Just in time, too, for the potion gave a mighty burp and splattered itself all over Gussie’s gown.
Gussie stuck a finger in the biggest glop and brought it to her nose for a sniff. “Hmm. Not enough gypsum. And I used up my store from town. I shall have to rethink the formulation. Clean that up, will you, Patience? We’ll start fresh tomorrow.” She hurried out.
Patience eyed the still-bubbling pot. She’d wanted
a more purposeful occupation than tending to Lady Carrolton’s imagined ills, but pretending an engagement, managing a house party, and cleaning up noxious messes didn’t seem like much of an improvement. Still, it had to be done. She rolled up her sleeves and advanced on the pot.
Sometime later, she came out of the laboratory to find the house at sixes and sevens. Gussie, Harry, and all the others were gathered in the entry hall, while Mr. Cuddlestone and Wilkins hurried about with coats and hats.
“Ah, there you are,” Gussie said as if she’d somehow misplaced Patience. “It’s time for our drive.”
Emma came down the stairs, arms full of cloaks and redingotes, and Wilkins began helping the ladies into them.
Harry moved to take the grey material of Patience’s cloak from the manservant. “Allow me.” He draped the cloak about her. His fingers brushed her neck, and she shivered.
“We won’t all fit in our coach,” he said, turning to look at the others as if oblivious to her reaction. “I’ll take Patience up in the curricle; Gussie can lead the way with the rest of you in the coach.”
Patience lifted her head. Her and Harry, alone in the carriage? What a perfect time to question him.
As if determined to thwart her, Lydia latched on to Harry’s arm. “I’ll come with you and Patience, Harry. I can play chaperone.” She giggled.
Harry looked as if he would refuse, but Lydia’s brother rubbed his hands together. “Perfect.” He offered one arm to Gussie and the other to Meredith. “Shall we?”
Emma had been given charge of Fortune, who looked none too pleased about being left behind until Emma brandished a feather, so there was nothing for it but to venture out onto the drive where the carriages were waiting. It was tight squeeze fitting Lydia onto the bench of the curricle. Harry ended up in the middle with Patience on one side and Lydia on the other. He clucked to his horses, and they followed the larger coach up the drive for the road.
They drove first through the village, with its tiled-roof cottages and half-timbered meeting hall. Many of the villagers stared as the carriages rolled past, but more than one man tipped his cap, and many of the ladies curtsied. Some of the younger ladies blushed and smiled at Harry, though he manfully ignored them. Patience was almost afraid to see some beauty lean out her window to wave while her husband scowled, but everyone was respectful.
As they came back through, rain began to fall. The hooded curricle kept most of the water at bay, but Patience could feel the cool mist on her cheeks.
“More rain,” Lydia said with a sigh, cuddling closer to Harry. “Remember Christmas? The snow was so charming.”
Harry turned to Patience. “If you look closely, darling, you can see the promise of spring.”
He was right. Daffodils nodded among the greening grass, and she could imagine that grass higher, more golden, while birds darted through a blue sky. Harry’s hand would hold hers as they walked through the light.
“Perhaps we should hold our wedding breakfast under the trees,” he said as if he shared her vision.
Lydia released him to clap her hands. “Oh, a marvelous idea! When is the wedding, Harry? We asked Patience, but she was being coy.” She smiled around him at Patience.
Patience pretended to watch the flowers bowing in the breeze.
“We’re waiting on the weather to set a date,” Harry said smoothly, taking the curricle around a curve. “But I imagine it will be after the Season starts.”
“Oh, good,” Lydia said, settling back in the seat. “Then Patience can come to London to visit us. I want to take her to Almack’s. Maybe that will force you to attend, Harry.”
Harry focused out over the team. “I am not admitted to Almack’s, Lydia. Neither is Gussie. Still too close to piracy for the mighty patronesses who hold sway there.”
His tone was glib, but she felt the sadness underneath. Patience laid a hand on his arm. “No vouchers for me either. My family wasn’t nearly important enough. We make quite a pair.”
Harry met her gaze. “Yes, we do.”
How easy to slip into the blue, float in the depths. How easy to let herself believe she was falling in love.
“Look, they’re stopping.” Lydia pointed ahead.
The road had curved around the top of the hill until they were west of the manor near the slope down to the causeway. Harry drew up alongside the larger coach, where Gussie, Mr. Villers, and Meredith stood staring, but he didn’t ask the reason they had stopped. That was readily apparent.
Since the rains had started, the creeks that meandered through the fens had swelled. Now silvery water glinted everywhere. And where the causeway should be was nothing but a pond swirling as rushing streams met a rising tide.
They were trapped on the hill.
“Who’s that?” Lydia asked.
On the last bit of dry land on the other side of the causeway, a lone rider sat on his horse. Looking up at the carriages and people on the hill, he seemed to make up his mind. He put heels to flanks and urged his horse forward.
Gussie was shifting on her feet as if she wanted to run down the hill herself. Her voice carried back to Patience. “What is he doing? He’ll never make it through.”
Before Patience knew what he was about, Harry had wrapped the reins to the brake and leaped down over Lydia, who giggled. Striding to the edge of the hill, he took off his top hat and waved to the rider. “Turn back! Danger!”
“How magnificent,” Lydia said, and Patience wasn’t sure if she meant Harry or the man below them.
The fellow certainly paid Harry no heed. Though the waves pushed his horse from one side, the creek from the other, he kept his reins high. Harry ran down the hill, looking very much as if he intended to dive in after the fellow. Patience gripped the wood of the curricle to keep from following.
In the end, Harry didn’t have to rescue the rider. The horse swam, drifting sideways at times against the current, then broke free onto dry ground and trotted up the hill toward them, Harry jogging alongside. Meredith turned and clambered back into the coach.
As they reached the top, Harry grinned at his aunt. “See who it is, Gussie?”
She waved at the rider. “Julian Mayes! So good of you to join us.”
Patience started, and Lydia frowned at her. “Do you know Mr. Mayes, the solicitor?”
Only what she’d heard from Meredith, and nothing good. Small wonder her friend had ducked into the coach.
Harry had no trouble with the newcomer. He clasped the hand the man offered from the saddle. “What brings you out this way, my friend?”
“Why, I heard you were having a house party,” the other man said with a laugh.
“Indeed we are,” Harry returned, “and I’ll introduce you to everyone once we get out of this rain.” He waved his aunt and guests back to the carriages.
But Patience couldn’t believe Julian Maye’s reason for arriving the way he had. He clearly hadn’t been invited to the house party. And poor Meredith. Here he was, the man her friend was determined to avoid, and there would be no way for the two of them to escape each other until the waters receded.
~~~
Meredith huddled inside the coach, feeling numb. She hardly noticed when Lydia Villers joined them so that Julian might ride with Harry, horse tied behind. It seemed he and Harry were old friends.
And she could not imagine being friendly.
She was just glad Gussie and Lydia kept up an animated conversation on the drive back to the manor. Only Lydia’s brother looked at her askance, as if noticing the difference in her, and she steadfastly turned her face to the window.
She excused herself as soon as they entered the manor, retrieving Fortune from where Emma and the cat had been chasing each other about the entry hall. The maid looked surprised by the abrupt movement, but Meredith climbed the stairs and nearly ran for her room. A mew of protest informed her she was holding Fortune far too tightly. Once inside and the door closed, she released her pet and flew to wardrobe. If she took only the essentials,
she could send for her trunk later.
She had her nightgown and underthings stored in a bandbox when the door opened, and Patience slipped inside. Shutting the door, she stared at Meredith.
“It’s him, your Julian Mayes, isn’t it?”
No use denying it. Meredith nodded. “So, you see why I must leave.”
“I see why he must leave,” Patience said, venturing into the room as Fortune came to meet her. “I would not have considered him a gentleman from your description of him, but apparently he and Harry are well acquainted. I understand they went to school together.”
“Half the gentlemen in London went to school together,” Meredith informed her, tightening the straps on the box. “My bad luck he was in the right half. Where is he now? Can I avoid him on the way to the door?”
Patience bent and scooped up Fortune, then positioned herself between Meredith and the exit. “Since the day we met, you have never backed down from a confrontation, not with Harry, not with Gussie, and not even when we said farewell to Lord and Lady Carrolton. Jane Kimball says it was the same in her situation. Why would you run now? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Her stomach knotted. “Not according to some people.”
Patience frowned. “But you said he left you when you needed him most.”
Meredith felt suddenly tired. Though everything in her urged flight, she sank onto the bed. Patience let Fortune loose, and the cat scampered to the bed and hopped up beside Meredith, where she watched her warily.
“What I told you about Julian Mayes is true, Patience,” Meredith admitted. “But there is more to the story. He knew me under another name, when I was another person. Like your parents, mine both died when I was still young. The cousin who inherited the house ordered me gone. I was certain Julian would come for me. We had an understanding.” Just remembering made her throat tighten.
“Though I sent him word,” she made herself continue, “Julian never came for me. I was forced to accept the offer of an old friend of my father’s to serve as companion to his sister. She belittled and berated me for years, made me feel small, miserable.”