At his side Connor MacKinnon listened thoughtfully. So there was a woman at the heart of the business, was there? Hardly surprising, considering Luc’s vast experience at seduction. But this woman sounded different. And marriage? This was not at all like Luc.
At least not the Luc Delamere that Connor used to know.
A slow smile swept over MacKinnon’s face as he contemplated the thought of Lucien Delamere, once the ton’s most eligible bachelor and most hardened flirt, leg-shackled and heart-bound at last.
The woman must be a rare jewel indeed! Connor found he couldn’t wait to meet her.
There was no hiding the mischief in his eyes as he followed his friend to their horses.
~ 31 ~
The sun climbed higher.
Silver and Bram followed the stream for miles. While the oarsman bent to his work, the passenger remained huddled in the rear of the boat.
Sunlight slanted through the willows as the two riders moved north in pursuit, careful to keep well back out of sight. In their caution they nearly let the boat escape once when it slid into a side stream that veered east.
Bram’s stomach was growling loudly now. The bit of shaved ham and pigeon pie had disappeared long ago.
“It can’t be much farther,” the boy said, frowning at the rushing water. “This stream will soon run into the broader flow of the Ouse. And beyond that lies King’s Lynn.”
“I expect it’s King’s Lynn that the villain’s headed for, Bram.”
Her brother sighed. “You don’t suppose — well, that we should send a message to Luc and let him know where we are?”
“Not a bit of it,” Silver said firmly. “We will manage perfectly well by ourselves without that man galloping about risking life and limb in our pursuit.”
“Yes, I rather think we will,” her brother said, cheered by Silver’s confidence. “I only wish we could stop to eat.”
It was well into the afternoon when they crossed the little stone bridge that lead into Lynn, as the locals called the bustling market town on the banks of the Ouse. As Silver cantered along Bridge Street, she made out the spires of St. Nicholas church towering high above her.
They crossed several crowded streets and passed a row of warehouses clustered along the river, struggling to keep their quarry in sight. Finally, near a tall timber-framed warehouse overhanging the water, they saw the little boat glide into a shadowed anchorage. Silver and Bram watched the unknown traveler make his way up a rickety set of steps and disappear into a passageway that led up to the warehouse.
“Did you see him?” Bram asked eagerly. “Went right into that warehouse, he did. We’ve got him now. The only question is, what do we do next?”
Silver surveyed the lower sweep of the river. Several coal boats rocked at anchor, awaiting more cargo before putting out into the Wash. Nearby, a dozen or so urchins were busy splashing in the water with noisy gaiety. Her eyes began to gleam. “I think I have an idea, Bram. Wait here.”
~ ~ ~
Fifteen minutes later the horses were stabled on a side street and Bram and Silver were making their way into the heart of Lynn to look for a respectable place to eat.
It had been accomplished more easily than Silver thought possible. She had had a word with the leader of the band of ragamuffin boys playing in the river and offered them two crowns to keep watch on the warehouse. Should their traveler emerge, the boys were to come fetch Silver immediately.
As Silver soon discovered, the boys knew that particular warehouse well. Havey cavey goings on there, the leader confided. Boats going in and out at all hours of day and night with men who didn’t talk English and kept their faces covered while they plied the oars.
And as for their traveler in the boat, the boys gave her better information still. After creeping through a broken window, they had overheard the intelligence that the man’s transportation would not be ready for an hour.
Oh, and wasn’t there much shouting and arguing at that news, the boy had gleefully relayed. But it was all to no avail. The man would just have to wait.
“Which means, mum, that you and your brother have a whole hour to stroll about. Go on with you then. We’ll keep an eye on your friend and the warehouse right proper. Besides, the pair o’ you look peaked. Have a speck to eat over on King Street or try the shops just past the Guildhall,” the urchin urged with a hint of local pride. “Their cakes are proper smashing.”
With their plucky comrade’s assurances to call them at the first sign of activity. Silver and Bram had left.
The sun shone down from a cloudless sky as they strolled past the fine shops on King Street. Bram still looked worried, however. “Are you sure we ought to, Syl? We don’t want the villain to escape, after all.”
“We have to eat,” Silver said practically. “And I have a feeling that that young man and his friends will do a far better job of watching the river than we could. It’s practically their home. They must know every bend and narrow and any number of ways in and out, while we would stick out like a regiment of cavalry in a churchyard.”
“I expect you’re right,” Bram said finally. If the truth be told, he was regretting a chance to trade stories with the hardy band of street boys. Still, he was hungry. And Silver did need someone to keep an eye on her.
Suddenly his eyes widened. “Say, that looks a fine sort of place across the street. May we stop, Syl? Just for a moment or two?”
Silver stared ruefully at her dust-stained skirt, but there was nothing to be done about that. She smoothed down her hair and straightened her riding jacket, then offered her arm to Bram. “It’s sounds lovely to me. Lead on.”
And it was a good decision, because after tea and cakes they both felt much better equipped to deal with the villainous stranger back in the warehouse.
Silver kept a close eye on the clock in the square. After eating, they still had forty-five minutes left, and they decided to have a look around the bustling shops in the shadow of the Duke’s Head Hotel.
The streets were especially crowded today, so their young river friends had said. It seemed that the Prince Regent and a very select party were passing through Lynn on the way to a week of hunting at a nearby estate. Silver felt a prick of regret as she admired the women in bright dresses of sprig muslin, sarsenet, and sheerest tulle set off with gay ribbons and feathers.
As the fashionable ladies streamed past her, Silver was made uncomfortably aware of just how outmoded her own riding costume was. But she didn’t mean to let that bother her. Raising her chin, she moved through the crowds, ignoring the faint sneers that were directed at her as a simple country bumpkin.
And Silver was determined to enjoy the time in the lovely little market town with its elegant sprawl of streets. The boys at the river had assured her that if the traveler left sooner than expected, they would send someone to alert her. So there was no reason to feel a prickle of uneasiness at her neck, Silver told herself sternly.
Yet feel it she did, again and again, as she and Bram walked along the cobbled lanes.
Bram looked anxiously at his sister. “Do you have the feeling that someone is following us, Syl?”
Silver hid a frown. This was precisely what she had been feeling, but she didn’t want to alarm her brother. “Someone? Hundreds, surely.”
“No, Syl.” The crease between Bram’s eyes grew deeper. “I mean one person in particular. With eyes only on us. I’ve felt it ever since we turned onto King Street.”
“I’m sure you must be mistaken, my love,” Silver said with a confidence she did not feel. “I expect it’s because we’re not used to these crowds.”
Once again Silver felt a prickle at her neck. Turning swiftly, she scanned the street behind her.
Strangers, one and all, each one intent on his business. Not a single set of eyes showed any interest in Silver or her brother.
But Silver couldn’t shake the notion that they were being watched.
Fortunately her brother was distracted at that moment by a glittering array
of cut-crystal bottles displayed in a shop advertising select perfumes and pomades from every corner of the world.
“Let’s look in, shall we?” Bram urged. “Just to see what they carry and how it compares with our products.”
Silver nodded and a few moments later they were in the middle of a very select establishment, rubbing elbows with elegant society ladies and a crowd of very dashing gentlemen.
Bram, however, had eyes only for the fragile crystal decanters. Immediately he set about exercising his singular gift, the gift passed down from his father and his father before him. Moving from bottle to bottle, he sniffed slightly, measuring the true contents against the advertised ones.
His frown showed his opinion of the exquisitely lettered placards that purported to list the various rare and expensive ingredients.
Silver, meanwhile, was called upon to advise two young women on a choice of scents. Hiding a smile, she assured one of them that “oakmoss, sandalwood, and vetiver were too heavy for the heat of summer” and the other that her selection of musk and tuberose was unsuitable for a lady of her delicacy and youth.
A few moments later, she was not quite certain how, Silver found herself consulted by a portly gentleman in a severely elegant black frock coat and an immaculate gray damask waistcoat.
His eyes seemed to twinkle when she asked whom he was buying for. “My, er, sister. Yes, it’s a gift for my sister. What would you suggest?”
“This would be a great deal too forceful, I’m afraid. A woman of taste always prefers something with subtlety,” Silver explained, echoing the same sentiments that had made her father a master perfumer twenty years earlier. When the distinguished stranger moved away a few minutes later, eyes still twinkling, he held three scents that Silver assured him would be precisely the thing for his sister.
Brandon, meanwhile, was drawing a crowd as he moved about, appraising bottle after bottle. “Bergamot, tuberose, and ambergris?” He took a careful sniff. “Nothing but lemon and rosewater here — and a very inferior sort at that.” Frowning, the boy moved to the next display, which featured a satin box of lavender sprigs tied in purple ribbons. “‘Royal lavender, fit for a queen,’“ he read, then sniffed the nearby bottle. “Lavender, do they call this? Why it’s nothing but cheapest spike oil that grows wild on the French hillside! Not even carefully distilled at that. Won’t carry for an hour without losing all its body. Why, Father used to say that—”
“Not lavender?” A quiet and very cultured voice came close at Silver’s shoulder. “Pray excuse my rudeness in intruding, but I could not help overhearing the boy over there — your brother, I think? — discussing this perfume. He seems to have a wonderful ability to judge the contents.”
Silver turned and found an imperious old woman studying her keenly. “I beg your pardon. I fear we are being very rude. It’s just that perfume is a kind of passion for us. It was our father’s love, and he raised us to care about it, too, you see. My brother becomes dreadfully angry when he finds people being, well, misled.”
“Misled?” The old woman chuckled. “Hoodwinked is the word for it. I’ve always suspected that Holcombe was fleecing his customers shamelessly, and I’m delighted to discover that I’m right.”
“Oh, I’m certain the owner doesn’t mean to,” Silver said quickly. “It’s simply that ingredients can vary. What one buys in August can be most sadly disappointing in November, you see.”
The old woman laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t see, my dear. I begin to suspect that my education has been seriously lacking. I really must prevail upon you for some advice.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Silver suddenly realized that half the eyes in the shop were turned upon her. “That is, I don’t even know—”
“The Duchess of Cranford,” came the prompt reply.
Silver answered with a graceful curtsy, flushing slightly, very much aware of her dusty skirts and windblown hair. “Susannah St. Clair,” she said softly.
Fragile fingers met hers. “I beg you won’t be formal with me. I need a scent for my granddaughter, you see. It is for a very special evening, and I require something quite exceptional.”
Silver was captivated. How could she resist such a request, which put all her skill and experience to the test? She studied the duchess for a moment, gnawing at her lip. “Would you describe her? It is always best to have an image in mind.”
The duchess smiled. “She is rather taller than I am, with titian hair and fine blue eyes.”
“She is active? Spends a great deal of time outside? Activity may affect a scent,” Silver explained artlessly, already lost in cataloging the various suitable possibilities.
“Very active. Sometimes I positively despair of keeping her in one place more than a second or two.”
Without warning a young woman in sprig muslin and teal-blue ribbons appeared at the duchess’s side. “Here you are, Grandmama. I began to think you’d tired and gone out to the carriage.”
“Tired? I?” The old woman patted her granddaughter’s gloved fingers. “Not so sickly as that yet, my dear. But you must meet my friend, Miss St. Clair. She was just about to advise me on a scent for you.”
The girl studied Silver with laughing eyes that were very fine indeed. But there was something else about her, some shadow of sadness or betrayed hopes that caught at Silver’s sensitive heart. “I am afraid you must think it a dreadful impertinence.”
“Not in the least. I have no nose for scents. In fact my brother always said—” Abruptly she paused. Once again Silver saw pain darken her face.
But she laughed quickly and gave a little shrug. “Do let me hear your choice, Miss St. Clair. If your skills are even half those of that young man over there, I am certain I shall be delighted, for he has already managed to charm the Prince Regent and half of the town along with him.”
Silver swallowed. “The P-Prince?”
“But of course,” her companion answered. “Nor did he seem unhappy with the advice that you gave him.”
Silver felt her knees begin to shake. She had been calmly advising the Prince Regent on gifts for his sister? Did he even have a sister? And if not, then who—
Her face flamed. The Duchess of Cranford laughed delightedly and patted Silver’s hand. “Buying for a lady, was he? Probably told you it was for his sister. Never mind, my dear. I’m certain your choice was the most elegant one that his current object of desire will ever receive. But do go on. I am quite avid to see what selection you will make for my India.”
Silver’s eyes widened. “India?”
“An outrageous name, ain’t it?” The duchess eyed her vibrant granddaughter. “But it suits her all the same, for she’s an outrageous sort of gel.”
“You put me to the blush, Grandmama.” But the red-haired India did not look at all discomfited. “And if I am outrageous, it is only because I learned every bit of it from you.”
At this moment the store’s proprietor emerged from the rear of the shop, his arms laden with bundles. In seconds he realized that the atmosphere had changed and an air of tense expectation now gripped the elegant shop.
Instantly he bustled toward Bram, who was innocently chatting with England’s leading man of fashion. The Prince Regent waved the proprietor away with one imperious flick of his fingers.
Next the man then bore down upon the duchess and her young charge.
The regal old woman stared down at him through her lorgnette. “We are managing perfectly, Holcombe. You may leave us. We shall summon you when we have completed our selections.”
“Of course, Your Grace. But—”
“Not now, Holcombe.” The duchess looked expectantly at Silver. “Well, my dear? You were about to make a suggestion, I believe.”
Silver found herself intrigued by the keen-eyed old lady and her vibrant granddaughter, whose face wore a sadness far beyond her years. They almost seemed familiar to Silver, although that was impossible. Since her father’s death Silver had left Kingsdon Cross only
rarely.
Abruptly the perfume blend came to her. “I have it! It will answer wonderfully, I think. A hint of moss like a cool summer dawn. A touch of damask rose for sweetness. A bit of clove for strength and clarity. And, yes, I think a trace of cedarwood would do well for purity. Together a blend that is sweet but still distinguished. This one will be close, I think.” She held out a small flagon and waited, breathless.
India clapped her hands in delight! “But you are a magician, Miss St. Clair! It is perfect. How can you know me so well after only a few moments?”
Silver blushed. “You are very kind. It is simply a skill I have, nothing more.”
“Bosh,” the Duchess of Cranford said flatly. “You’ve caught my granddaughter to perfection. You are a positive treasure.” Her keen eyes took on a speculative twinkle. “I presume I was correct and you are not married, my dear?”
India, by now well used to her grandmother’s matchmaking, merely smiled. Silver was left tongue tied, however. “Your Grace — that is, I hardly know how to answer.”
“Why, yes or no, my dear?”
“Er, no, I’m not, but—”
“Delightful! Then I positively must insist that you accompany us to tea while we consider your future more closely.” The duchess eyed Silver’s outdated riding costume and half boots thoughtfully. “From the provinces, are you, gel? No need to be ashamed of it, you know.”
Silver’s chin rose and anger glinted in her eyes. All her fierce St. Clair pride surged to the fore. “You are very kind, Your Grace, but I can hardly suppose my petty affairs to be of any interest to you.”
But the duchess merely laughed, in no way put out. “If that was meant as a setdown, you’re out of luck, my dear. I’m as thick skinned as an Egyptian crocodile, and I’ve been snubbed too many times to feel a thing.”
Silver blinked, utterly beyond knowing how to respond to such blunt good humor. She decided that her own answer should be blunt in turn. “You are right, Your Grace, it was meant as a snub. Though I am ‘from the provinces,’ as you put it, I am far from considering myself a country mouse. My brother and I go on quite well here. I am a woman of independence and I see no reason to have my life unsettled by marriage.”
Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) Page 30