Smoke & Lies

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Smoke & Lies Page 12

by Andrea Penrose


  Saybrook hesitated and fixed her with a searching stare before responding, “I'm meeting tonight with a pair of smugglers who have a ship and crew leaving for Italy just before dawn. Elba is very close to their final destination of Livorno.” A pause. “I'm to bring a down payment, and we are to negotiate the final price. But I daresay we'll come to an agreement, as I'm willing to be exceedingly generous.”

  “Forgive me,” she murmured. A sigh slipped from her lips. “For putting a burden on your purse when we might have traveled gratis.”

  He allowed a grim smile. “Oh, never fear, my dear. I fully intend to make Grentham pay for it.”

  “Yes, but there’s also the question of speed and safety,” pointed out Arianna.

  “Smugglers wouldn’t survive if they weren’t both swift and savvy.”

  “Then you’re not upset with me?”

  “Not at all.” The earl finished off his wine. “Save, perhaps, for the fact that Hamilton might have provided us with more commodious accommodations than a smuggler’s cutter. I daresay we’ll be sleeping on sacks of contraband grain and sugar.”

  “Anything we got from him would have come with a price,” replied Arianna.

  “A moot point.” He counted out some coins to pay for their meal and set them on the table.

  “As we have time on our hands, I think I’ll explore the spice stalls in the market,” she said as he rose. Gibraltar was renowned as a hub of commerce for merchants from around the globe. “I’m curious as to what exotic items can be found there, and one never knows—they might prove useful.”

  Saybrook flicked a mote of dust from his cuff. “Come walk with me first.” A pause. Which to her ears seemed to resonate with unspoken meaning. “There are a few things we should discuss first.”

  Her muscles tensed, but she rose and forced a smile. “Of course.”

  * * *

  He led the way up one of the narrow, winding streets that meandered up the steep hill behind the harbor. By virtue of its strategic position guarding the entrance to the vast landlocked ocean, Gibraltar had changed hands numerous times over the century, and the bloody battles had left their mark. The town was perched precariously on the mountainous terrain, its close-set buildings sagging with age and an aura of decay.

  An oppressive dampness seemed to hang in the myriad shadows. Arianna was aware of its weight pressing in from all sides.

  Nonetheless, the earl kept the conversation light as they worked their way up the hill. They talked of interesting things—the history of the area, the fortifications, the confluence of cultures and commerce that made Gibraltar a nexus of trade.

  Interesting but safe.

  It wasn’t until Saybrook slowed his steps and turned up the path to the parapet overlooking the Old Mole and the Bay of Gibraltar that his smile thinned to a more serious mien.

  He led the way to a secluded spot, sheltered in a jog of the stone and turned to face her. “I sense you are holding something back from me. It’s been hovering between us and I wish you would tell me what it is.”

  Arianna felt a spurt of both panic and resignation. She had been a fool to think she could take the coward’s way out of her dilemma.

  But how to answer?

  She found she couldn’t look him in the eye. “I can’t, Sandro. I—I made a promise.”

  He didn’t react. Somehow that was far worse than anger or recriminations.

  “I’m a disappointment to you,” she said. “I know that. And—”

  “Never,” cut in Saybrook. “You are the anchor of my life. You brought me back from the living dead and renewed my faith in humanity—in love, family, and loyalty. In having convictions, and compassion . . . and in having the courage to challenge oneself to do what is hard, not what is easy .”

  Arianna felt as if the breath had been knocked from her lungs. She had never heard such a naked honesty in his voice.

  “My only disappointment is that you don’t seem to feel I can be trusted with your secret.”

  “It’s not that . . .”

  Saybrook waited. When she didn’t—when she couldn’t— go on, he perched a hip on the weathered stone.

  “There is something elementally calming about looking out over the sea,” he murmured, and then fell silent as his gaze fixed on some distant point on the horizon.

  High overhead, several gulls wheeled and shimmied on the wind, specks of white against the cerulean sky. Arianna pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulder and waited for him to continue.

  “It reminds me of the days just before our marriage, when we walked along the Sussex cliffs at Beachy Head, discussing whether or not to take the momentous step of matrimony.”

  Her body suddenly felt strangely numb. She feared she knew where he was going with his carefully chosen words.

  “Circumstance had thrown us together,” he mused. “And while neither of us claimed to be madly in love, there was, I believe, a mutual sense of respect.”

  Arianna found it hard to muster a breath. “Yes,” she managed to whisper.

  “And an admiration, I think, for each other’s strength of character—a strength chiseled by adversity.”

  She fisted her hands together to keep them from shaking. “Sandro . . .”

  “Please, let me finish,” said Saybrook gently. “We agreed that love was something that must develop on its own. If it came, all the better, but no promises were made. What we did pledge was to trust each other without reservation—and to be completely honest. Those two things lie at the heart of our relationship.”

  He shaded his eyes and watched a British corvette pull up its anchor and head out to sea before speaking again. “Over the last few weeks, I’ve wondered whether you’ve become conflicted over making that promise.” A pause. “We really must clear the air of the smoke and lies that swirl around us. If there’s not absolute trust and honesty between us, we risk putting lives in danger—both our own and those of people we love.”

  Silence settled between them. Arianna waited for several long moments to make sure he was finished and then made herself meet his gaze.

  “As I said, I . . . I made a promise that I shouldn’t have. One that involved keeping a secret from you. But once I gave my word, I felt compelled to keep it.”

  “I respect your fierce sense of honor. It is one of the many things I admire about you. And I see the dilemma.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “But you make a promise to me as well. Hard as it is, you must choose where your ultimate loyalty lies.”

  Arianna drew a ragged sigh and for an instant felt it catch in her throat. “It’s not that simple . . .” She looked away, trying to find words to explain.

  The wind shifted and slapped against her cheeks. A gull swooped close and let out a raucous shriek . . .

  And all at once, she realized it was that simple.

  Right and Wrong. White and Black. While she had been trying to blur the distinction to an amorphous shade of grey.

  Putting herself at risk of losing the one thing in life she held most dear.

  It felt as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes.

  As her insides suddenly unknotted, Arianna turned and touched her hand to his cheek. “What I did was unforgivable, though I hope you will do so. It won't ever happen again.”

  Twining his fingers with hers, Saybrook brushed a kiss to her knuckles. “To be human is to make mistakes.” He made a wry face. “Painful as it is, that’s how we become wiser.”

  “I’ve never doubted where my loyalty lies, Sandro.” She pressed up against him and held very still, savoring his closeness and steady thud-thud of his heart. “It was guilt that caused me to lose my bearings, not anything else.”

  Thud-thud. Its rhythm resonated with some inner chord deep within.

  “I am,” he murmured, “profoundly glad to hear it.”

  “You must hear something else.” Arianna wanted to clear away any lingering uncertainties. She hoped that the dowager would understand.

  �
��The promise I made was to Constantina. It involved some stolen letters, whose contents were not only personal embarrassing but also could have had grave diplomatic repercussions in the wrong hands.”

  She paused, as the next thing was even harder to admit. “She asked me to help her get them back. And she feared you would think her pitiful if you knew the full circumstances, so she implored me to keep it a secret from you. I agreed.”

  His expression altered ever so slightly, but was impossible to read.

  Arianna hesitated. Lowering her guard didn’t come easy. Her early life had taught her the perils of showing any vulnerability. Survival depended on strength and toughness.

  But this was Sandro . . .

  “Constantina has come to be very dear to me. She accepted me—a total stranger—without question, and gave me the unshakable love and loyalty of family . . . which was something I’d never had before. I lost my mother at a very early age. And my father . . .”

  She blew out her breath. “As you know, he was a charming but feckless swindler. He didn’t have an evil bone in his body, but he allowed expediency to bend his sense of honor.” Not wanting to sound too maudlin, she quickly added, “So, I . . . I didn’t have the heart to refuse her.” A wry grimace. “ However, I should have realized that no good deed goes unpunished.”

  In a rush, she went on to recount the details of retrieving the letters.

  “Ah.” Saybrook pursed his lips. “Given your mention of political repercussions, I assume the letters had something to do with her French paramour, Gerard Dampierre.”

  “You knew?”

  An unholy twinkle flashed in his eyes. “My dear, I was a military intelligence officer on the Peninsula. And like you, I’m very fond of my great aunt. She may think she was being cleverly discreet—”

  “Wretch.” Arianna thumped a fist to his chest. “You’re a fine one to talk about trust and honesty!”

  “I assumed you knew.” He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “But you’re right, no more assumptions or secrets between us. Agreed?”

  “With all my heart,” she whispered.

  They stood in silence for another few moments. Then, loosening his hold, Saybrook stepped back. “The past is now settled, so let us turn our thoughts to the present, and what lies ahead.”

  “Sandro, there is one last matter before we move on to the matters at hand.” Arianna watched the sun play over his austere features. Every subtle curve and angle had become intimately familiar to her. “We made no promises about love, but . . .” Words felt so damnably inadequate to express what she wanted to say. “But surely you know—”

  He touched a fingertip to her lips. “There is an old Spanish proverb about not tempting Fate by speaking of your happiness, lest it be taken away from you.”

  Their eyes met, and they both smiled.

  His expression then turned pensive and he shifted his gaze to stare out at the sea. “As we know, Fate can be capricious and cruel.”

  She knew he was thinking of Eduardo. “Which means we have to be clever enough to outwit the unknown enemies we are facing.”

  That drew a low laugh. “Then let us put our minds to it.” I have been thinking about what you just told me about Grentham. Granted, I tend to assume the worst of him. But in this case, it's likely that he's as much in the dark as we are as to what's happening on Elba.”

  “I agree.” She gave a rueful grimace. “We are very useful to him, so I don’t really think he wishes us harm . . .” Strangely enough, there were moments when she thought she detected a flicker of something other than mere expediency in his manner.

  “So let us not accuse him of deliberately sending us into danger until—”

  “Until it proves otherwise,” finished the earl dryly.

  A reminder that they mustn’t let down their guard for a moment. For anyone.

  “But enough of the minister—first things first,” mused Saybrook. “If we are to have any hope of succeeding in our mission, we need to get off this Rock as quickly as possible and make our way to Elba. As I said the smugglers have a boat leaving sometime before daybreak tomorrow, so it should only be a question of money—and I’m willing to pay whatever they ask.”

  “What of our traveling companions?” she asked.

  “Wolff is a clever fellow. I’m inclined to let him and the baroness fend for themselves.”

  Arianna nodded, feeling a rush of relief at having cleared the air between them. Their tête-à-tête had been a profound reminder that loyalty to family and friends was an elemental bond. One that ultimately drew the line between those who believed in principles greater than themselves.

  And those who did not.

  Loyalty mattered deeply to Saybrook. As it did to her. If Eduardo was alive, she was determined that nothing would stop them from finding him.

  “Then it’s settled,” said Arianna. “Now, since we have some time to kill before the meeting tonight, might we continue on to the spice markets?”

  “Yes, of course,” agreed the earl. “But then we must return to the inn and pack up our valises. I don't know where the smugglers keep their ship or exactly when they plan to depart. So when darkness falls, we must be ready to improvise.”

  Chapter 14

  “Ah, thank God you are back.” Without knocking, Wolff slipped into the sitting room and pulled the door closed behind him.

  “Pray, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?” Arianna didn't look up from fitting several small bags of spices and cacao paste into her traveling bag. Saybrook had decided to stop by the ship and bring back some items from their trunks—God only knew when or if their luggage would ever arrive in Elba—so she was alone.

  “Whatever it is,” she added, “don’t look for me to pull your cods out of the fire.”

  “You would abandon your oldest friend?” He dropped into the worn armchair by the window. “The selfless soul who took you in during your darkest hour and succored—”

  She made a rude sound.

  “And succored a lost innocent, sacrificing everything to lavish love and guidance—”

  “Oh, cut wind, Wolffy. You sound as if you’re mangling Shakespeare—or is it Marlowe?” Despite the time spent with his theatre company, Arianna hadn’t devoted any time to learning the intricacies of the plays or the playwrights.

  “Actually it’s from a script I wrote myself.”

  “A farce, no doubt.”

  He laughed.

  It was hard to stay annoyed at such an unrepentant rogue. “What’s the trouble?”

  “Other than the fact that I’m bored?” he quipped. “You know me, Anna—inaction doesn’t suit me. Sitting around in a cramped cabin, with precious little chance to interact with people, has me out of sorts.” He gave a pained grimace. “Like the baroness, I feel my skills are much better suited to the ballroom and boudoir.”

  “We’ll soon be in Elba, where you’ll be up to your eyeballs in intrigue and innuendo.”

  He let out a huff of frustration and began picking at a loose thread on his cuff. “Not from what I hear. We are at the mercy of Captain Holden, and he’s had no luck in convincing the port supervisor to make the repairs to Basilisk a priority.”

  Arianna remained silent about the alternatives that Saybrook was arranging.

  “One can’t help but wonder why,” Wolff added darkly.

  She straightened from her packing. Was that merely melodrama or had he learned something new? With Wolff, it was always damnably hard to tell.

  “Have you any further reason to suspect him?”

  He blew out his breath. “Actually, no. I returned to the ship this afternoon and contrived to loiter below deck, gathering up some of my belongings and gossiping with the junior officers. I waited until I saw Holden on the wharf, engaged in a heated debate with the dockyard purser, and then managed to make a more thorough search of his cabin.”

  “And you found nothing incriminating?

  “No.” A pause. “There was on
e odd thing, though,” he continued. “As I returned to the main deck, I saw a street urchin deliver a note to the captain, and after reading it, he stuffed it in his pocket and went haring off into one of the narrow streets leading up into town.”

  “That’s hardly odd,” replied Arianna. “Gibraltar is the main base for the Mediterranean fleet. Holden likely has a number of friends in port and has arranged to have supper with them.”

  Her friend made a dubious face, but then his expression brightened. “Ah, speaking of supper, the innkeeper has recommended a tavern in the center of town that’s renowned for its canard a l’orange. I thought the four of us might enjoy a convivial evening of good food and good cheer to take our minds off the present troubles.”

  After shifting a pair of shoes, Arianna managed to find a place for the last bag of spices. “We have other plans.”

  Wolff raised his brows in surprise.

  “Saybrook encountered several acquaintances from Spain this afternoon,” she lied. “We are dining with them.”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. In a quiet part of town, I imagine.”

  “Wouldn’t it be far more jovial to make merry together?” pressed Wolff.

  “I daresay we’ll all be making merry together soon enough,” shot back Arianna. “Tonight I prefer a more tranquil evening.”

  “Oh, come, where’s your sense of fun?”

  “Go away, Wolffy,” she muttered.

  He expelled a sigh. “In case you change your mind—”

  “We won’t,” she interrupted. “Now please toddle off. I need to change into something more suitable for the occasion.”

  * * *

  Fog, cold and sour as the breath from a crypt, ghosted up from the harbor, muffling all sounds in the narrow alleyway, save for the squelch-squelch of their steps through the mud. Arianna glanced up. Clouds hazed the moon, and no lights shone from the deserted buildings looming up from the gloom. Repressing a shiver, she quickened her pace to keep up with Saybrook as the way became steeper and began to wind through a warren of ramshackle warehouses. It seemed unnaturally silent.

 

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