While she did not understand anything of the words the men were muttering as they headed back down the steps, Hattie suspected they were not kind. No one in their right frame of mind would willingly leap over the side of a ship.
From years spent listening to the firebrand preachers who visited her local church she knew the look and tone of disapproval well.
Women should be obedient, and know their place in the world.
She lifted her head and looked out to sea, just in time to see the Blade of Orion round the nearby head of the south mole of the harbor and disappear. Her head and shoulders slumped.
She was free.
“It's gone,” the stranger remarked.
He reached out and placed a comforting hand on her upper arm.
She flinched involuntarily, before remembering where she was.
“Thank you. That was an incredibly brave thing you did. I owe you the deepest debt of gratitude.”
“London?” came the reply.
Hattie turned to look at the stranger properly for the first time. Her heart which was only beginning to calm down from the strenuous swim, began to thump once more in her chest.
Dark hair. His sodden black trousers clung tight to his strong muscular body. No boots. No shirt.
She had never seen the fully naked upper torso of a man before, it left her breathless.
His gaze followed hers and a sheepish look of embarrassment appeared on his face.
“My apologies. I forgot about my attire. Now where did I leave my clothes?” he said.
He leaned over and picked up a bundle of cloth which lay nearby and after a brief struggle with it, managed to pull it over his head. The sleeves of what she now knew to be a shirt proved to be a more difficult proposition. After several unsuccessful attempts to put his arms into the damp twisted sleeves, Hattie was forced to render assistance.
“Here let me help you,” she said.
If the stranger had thought that by donning his shirt he would add a little modesty to the situation, he had not counted on what the linen would do once it touched his wet body. The shirt quickly stuck to him, affording Hattie a second look at his hard, masculine body.
Her quiet appreciation of his body was interrupted when the remains of the seawater which had lodged in the back of her throat shifted and quickly brought on a violent bout of coughing.
Finally, she heaved and the rest of the vile seawater came up from her stomach and was deposited on the flat stone ground. She got to her feet. The stranger followed suit. Her patient rescuer gently rubbed her back.
“Come on cough it all up. If you don’t you will be laid up in a sick bed by the end of the day,” he said.
Finally, she held up a hand. The spasms were gone and she could breathe deeply once more.
“Thank you,” she said.
He stepped away and stood silently looking at her, eventually drawing her gaze to his face.
The words handsome devil immediately sprang to Hattie's mind. A devil with grey eyes of a shade she had never seen before. In the bright light of the sun, she thought them almost silver. Then he blinked and when she looked once more she saw there was a warmth and softness about them.
“What did you say?” she stammered.
“I said to get all that sea water out of your stomach,” he replied.
“No before that.”
“I said London. Not quite Park Lane, but at least west of Covent Garden. I have a particular talent for picking accents.”
Hattie shivered. The wind blowing through her wet clothes was mostly to blame, but something else stirred within her. With the Blade of Orion now out of sight, the gravity of her situation hit hard. She put a trembling hand to her chest. Her situation was perilous.
She was over a thousand miles from home, with no possessions and no money. Her parents and fiancé were bound for Sierra Leone, oblivious to the fact that she was no longer on board the ship. And yet here she was, standing with a stranger, discussing the intricacies of her provenance.
“Oh, dear god, what have I done?” she muttered.
Will stepped forward and after placing a gentle, but firm hand on her shoulder posed the obvious question.
“May I ask you something?” he said.
This man had just risked his life to swim out into the harbor and rescue her. Of course, he had questions.
“Yes?”
"I won't attempt to judge; I just need to know if what just happened out there in the harbor was an accident or if you intended to jump from the ship.”
Hattie winced. Lying was not something which came naturally to her.
“I jumped,” she replied.
“I thought so. I was watching you before you fell and it didn't look from where I sat that it was an accident. Your movements seemed quite deliberate in the minute or so before you went over the side. So, may I now ask why you jumped?”
She met his gaze. His grey eyes held a kindness which beckoned to her. Made her want to reveal her deepest inner thoughts to him. Only to him. A man whose name she didn't even know made her want to share all the secrets and dreams she kept hidden from the world.
And what was the truth? That Harriet Imogen Margaret Wright who had been a dutiful, obedient daughter all her life had suddenly been possessed of the overwhelming need to seize her own future. That she had taken a literal leap into the unknown.
A small spark in the back recesses of her mind gave her pause. She could sense that beneath his veneer of kindness, he hid a strength of will. If he chose to wield that will against her, it could easily overpower her own.
Having only just been saved from a possible watery grave, she was in no mood to tempt fate twice. Yet his question demanded an answer.
What then was she to tell him?
“My name is Sarah Wilson,” she replied.
The real Sarah Wilson, her maid was still on board the ship. But since her maid had eagerly signed up to become part of the mission to Africa, there was little chance she would be suddenly appearing on anyone's doorstep to poke holes in Hattie's story.
“I was engaged to be married. My fiancé told me we were going on a trip to Spain, and it was only when we got to Gibraltar that he told me we were headed to Africa. I tried to reason with him, but he became unkind,” she added.
Shut up Hattie. Don’t make the lie any bigger than it needs to be.
“I see. And that is why you jumped overboard?”
She nodded. Keeping her mouth shut was the best thing she could do right now. Lies were hard enough if you had been granted time to come up with a convincing one. Making things up as she went along made the task nigh on impossible.
He remained silent for a moment. Hattie could almost hear his brain processing her words. He turned away, and with his hands clasped behind him, he looked out into the harbor in the direction of where the Blade of Orion had gone.
A chill of recollection slid down her spine. The memory of watching her father standing looking out the window of his study the moment before he suddenly announced her engagement to the Reverend Peter Brown crashed through her mind. At this moment, she wished she could be back home in England and in her father's study. Anywhere but here.
The stranger turned and faced her. She pushed the image of her father from her mind.
There was a kindness in the stranger’s countenance which she had not seen in her father for a long time. Unlike her father, she sensed this was a man she could reason with to have her voice heard. A man she could trust.
“Do you know anyone in Gibraltar?” he asked.
Hattie shook her head. She knew few people outside of London, let alone England.
“William Saunders at your service Miss Wilson,” he said, adding a graceful bow.
He offered her his hand and she was compelled to take it. For someone who had just been in the cold sea, his hands were surprisingly warm. Yet, she shivered at his touch.
She shivered a second time before letting out a loud sneeze. A flash of dismay passed ov
er Will’s face.
“There is little point in me helping to save your life, if I let you sit here and catch your death of cold. You must come back with me to my hotel and get those clothes dried off.”
He tightened his grip of her hand, revealing his offer to be more of a command. The recklessness of her actions now laid themselves open to her sight. She was alone in a foreign country; and within minutes of leaving the protection of her family she was being asked to accompany a man back to his hotel. Tears pricked her eyes. How long would it be before something terrible befell her? Before she was utterly ruined.
She tore her hand from his grasp.
“I don't think that is a very good idea Mr. Saunders, we have only just met. I am from a respectable family, and as such you must understand that I am not the sort of girl who goes anywhere with a strange man,” she replied.
Will softly chuckled. “I've oft considered myself a little odd, but never strange. Though my sister Eve may have something else to say about the matter.”
He walked over to a nearby leather satchel and after rummaging around in it, pulled out a card. He handed it to her.
Mr. William Saunders Esq, 28 Dover Street, London it read.
As Hattie read the card, relief flooded her heart. She knew of the Saunders family; they were very respectable members of the ton. Her mother had attended several functions at the Saunders’ house in Dover Street. She had met Evelyn Saunders the year of her coming out, but could not recall an older brother. The family were connected to the Duke of Strathmore. Rich and powerful.
If this gentleman was indeed William Saunders, then she was as likely to be safe with him as anyone else. He would understand the predicament she was in and the risk to which her reputation was currently faced. A small mercy had been bestowed.
“You live in London?” she asked.
“As of next week, yes. That's my father's house, where I shall be residing until I can secure a new abode for myself. I have lived abroad for the past few years,” he replied.
“I assure you Miss Wilson you shall be perfectly safe with me. As a gentleman it is my duty to take care of young ladies such as yourself and make sure they come to no harm. Let me at least escort you back to my hotel and see that you are settled.”
Hattie looked once more at Will's calling card. It was not as if she had a lot of other options to call upon. Beggars were not offered the luxury of choice. She offered him her hand.
“We need to get you into some warm dry clothes and soon, your hands are like ice,” he said.
Chapter Three
The walk up the stone steps and into the town concentrated Will's mind. What could have possessed Sarah to make her jump ship? While he was prepared to accept that her fiancé was likely a blackguard, he also suspected she was holding back much of the truth. From the way she spoke, he deduced that there was an actual fiancé somewhere in the story. What was not so certain however, was whether he was the real reason behind her fleeing the ship.
The Blade of Orion had been in port for at least several days, during which the passengers would have had to disembark and stay somewhere in the town. Why hadn't she sought help from the authorities while still onshore? Gibraltar was full of British naval personnel, anyone of whom could have been called upon to come to her aid.
He chanced a look in her direction.
She was pretty; in a keep you happy in bed in the middle of winter way. Her warm brown eyes alone could capture a man's soul. Her face, while not beautiful, still held the promise of laughter, which to a man of Will's experience was far more alluring. Beauty often failed to live up to its promise.
Her full lips were meant for long luxurious kisses. Instinct told him that whomever married Sarah Wilson would never feel the need to stray from the marital bed. She was a woman to cleave onto and be grateful for, for the rest of your life. If he had been asked to describe her in a single word he knew what it would be. Lovely.
Her fiancé had lost a special woman, though from the sound of the cad, he would likely never come to that realization.
With her sea soaked clothes still clinging tightly to her body, Will found himself appreciating the soft curves which were on display. Her ample breasts stretched the seams of the gown's water shrunken bodice.
He checked himself. It had been a long time since he had allowed the thought of a woman's body to pervade so strongly into his mind. For the past few years he had buried those thoughts and desires deep in the black hole of loss.
Grief was a thick, dark blanket to the joy of life. Once the sharp heat of it ebbed, it offered protection to the heart.
What am I doing?
For the first time since the death of his wife, Will was forced to accept that the girl walking beside him stirred his longing.
“So, we shall get you to the hotel, and you will be fine after that?” he asked. He was testing her, seeing how long she could hold her story together.
“Yes, yes of course. Thank you, Mr. Saunders,” she replied.
When they finally reached the top of the stairs which led to the entrance of the largest of the handful of hotels in Gibraltar, Will stopped and held open the door. Hattie stepped inside and he followed.
On the climb up the hill, he had silently evaluated her situation. He doubted she had any money. If she had thought to take some with her before leaving the ship, those coins were more than likely now resting at the bottom of the harbor. If his theory held true, then it was only a matter of time before she would be forced to admit the truth of her predicament.
As they reached the front desk of the hotel, which doubled as both reception and an extension to the tavern bar she stopped.
He could see she was ill at ease. The constant wringing of her hands gave her away. When she cracked the smallest knuckle on her left hand, he knew it was time to act.
His sister Caroline had the same nervous habit, one which made him grit his teeth every time he was forced to bear witness to it.
What sort of man are you? What could you possibly achieve from making her beg you for help? Will Saunders, you are a better man than this. She is not some operative you need to bend to your will. Offer her your full assistance.
He waved the hotel’s head porter away and taking hold of Hattie’s arm steered her away from the front desk.
“You don't have any money, do you?” he asked, once they were out of earshot of the hotel staff.
She winced. Her reaction confirming his assessment of her lack of skills as a liar. In his old life he would have viewed this as a character flaw, but in the young woman before him he knew this to be a sign of her true character and breeding.
It was refreshing to meet someone who did not practice deceit as part of their normal day to day existence.
She pulled away and turning on her heel headed for the door.
Will who until that second had thought himself a canny predictor of the reactions of others, suddenly found himself wrong footed. Any other woman would have thrown herself on his charity. Called all societies dictates to the fore, but not this girl.
He watched in amazement as she screwed her courage to the sticking place and walked away. She was not going to ask for his help.
She was so like Yvette. So bloody stubborn.
Stop her you fool.
“Sarah!” he called out, but she did not react.
She moved faster than even he expected. By the time he reached the door, she was well out into the street and headed for the nearby town square in which the market was being held. He ran after her.
Taking a firm hold of her arm he stopped her in mid stride. When he saw her tears, Will instantly felt lower than a gutter rat's paw.
“It's alright, I won't leave you,” he said, trying his best to offer reassurance.
Hattie's face said it all, she was in dire straits. Whether it was of her own making or not, it did not matter. He had to help.
“I just want to go home,” she sobbed.
His senses sprang to attention. A so
ft tingling in his left ear, which rapidly became a sharp ringing warned him that they were in danger. His gaze shifted slowly from Hattie to their nearby surroundings.
The people around them in the market place began to shoot disapproving glances his way.
It did not take a genius to realize that the locals had assumed he and she were a couple.
From the loud clicking of tongues and whispered bestia it was also obvious that they held him responsible for her current miserable condition.
Hattie’s hair was an unkempt disaster, plastered all over her head. Her clothes, though slowly beginning to dry, made her look like she had been dragged backwards through a hedgerow. She looked at best untidy, at worst mistreated.
A heavy knock on the shoulder from a passing stall holder revealed the depth of enmity beginning to build amongst the crowd. Will was the villain of the piece. If he did not bring the situation under control, and fast, he was likely to find himself on the receiving end of a solid fist or two.
“Alright, alright. I will take you home. Just please stop crying,” Will pleaded.
The local women who had gathered to stand behind Hattie looked to one another. Will caught the glimpse of a donkey whip in one woman's hand and sizeable pieces of rock in the hands of several others.
The buzz of the crowd rose in pitch.
Their adopted daughter however did not appear to comprehend what was going on around her. Hattie's head dropped and she stared at the stone paving. Unwittingly she held the crowd and therefore both her and Will's safety in the palm of her hand.
“They want to know if everything is alright,” he explained.
“What?” she replied, when she finally looked at him.
He took a step forward, intent on speaking more privately to her, but the crowd murmured its disapproval.
“Bien bien,” he said, taking two overly long steps backward, hands help up in surrender.
Hattie's gaze fell on the nearest of the women. The woman's finger was pointed at Hattie's disheveled gown.
Hattie looked down at her gown and frowned. “Oh, I see.”
As she attempted to straighten her skirts, a bright patch of red appeared on her cheeks. Will's heart went out to her once more. The poor girl was embarrassed at the bedraggled state of her clothes in front of these strangers.
My Gentleman Spy (The Duke of Strathmore Book 5) Page 2