by Julia Parks
When he opened his eyes again, Jane was frowning, and her lips were pursed. She hadn’t any notion how disrupting he found her body. Suddenly, the truth hit him full force. She was an innocent. Her slow, deliberate movements had been prompted by anger, not a desire to tease or ridicule. How wise he had been to restrain his instincts! Still, he had to tell her.
“You are very beautiful, Jane, very desirable.”
“Now you are offering me Spanish coin, Devlin. I don’t care for flattery. Can we not return to our original topic—supper?”
Drew inclined his head. “Your wish is my command.”
As though dressed for a formal ball, he extended his arm and escorted her to the adjoining room. Jane smiled at the boots and coat left willy-nilly where they lay.
“You should have brought your valet.”
“To paraphrase Poor Richard, ‘Three may keep a secret if one of them is dead,’” he said as he picked up his boots. He studied them carefully. “I suppose I could put them outside the door and let the pot boy polish them.”
Jane laughed and sat down at the table. As she served cold ham and turkey, rich cheddar cheese, and some cherries, she said, “How do you hope to get along on such a long journey?”
“I am accustomed to dressing myself. I have only had a valet since returning to England. Of course, I did have someone to take care of my clothes.” Drew frowned as he retrieved his navy serge coat and smoothed it with one hand. The wrinkles remained.
“There is nothing for the boots but to allow the inn servants to tend to them, but I will ask Tucker if she will tend to your clothes.”
“Will she mind terribly?”
“I doubt it. She thinks very highly of you, Devlin. Though I couldn’t venture a guess as to why.”
“Couldn’t you? And what of her mistress? Does she think highly of me?”
With a coy smile, she replied, “At times.”
“Minx!” He laughed, sitting opposite her. “I am starving!”
It was some time later before their hunger was appeased and conversation was remembered.
“Jane, I want to explain why l had the landlord set up our supper in my room. We must do all we can to keep a low profile on this journey. And what could be more natural than for Mr. and Mrs. Davies to dine alone, especially since the hour was so advanced?”
“I understand. I wish you had explained earlier.”
“There wasn’t time. I only thought of it as the landlord asked me if I wished a private parlour so late. In the long run, I was glad of it. When I strolled down the street, asking for Cherry at three other hostelries, I encountered no less than three men I knew from London.”
“Did they see you?”
“No, I was able to avoid them.”
“Drew, surely you will admit now that this charade cannot continue. We are bound to meet people we know on the packet.”
“That is why I was so relieved you had the good sense to dress in blacks.”
“Then my blacks will be protection enough.”
“Not against the more desperate type of villain. But I will try to be as unobtrusive as possible. You and Tucker had best go aboard the packet without me. I’ll join you when we are certain it’s safe.”
b
Jane was too weary for further arguments. Choosing not to eat her fruit, she stood up and began to pace the length of the room.
Drew began eating the cherries as he studied her. Several minutes later, he suggested, “Perhaps you should sit down, my dear. Your pacing is detrimental to the rug.”
She looked down in surprise. Smiling ruefully, Jane returned to her chair where she accepted a cherry from Drew. She chewed it thoughtfully.
“It is just that I am so angry with my cousin! How could she do such a nonsensical thing? Every time I think about it, I want to shake her!”
“Perhaps it’s a good thing she isn’t here.” He met her startled gaze. “I can’t imagine her submitting quietly to such an indignity, and the awfulness of such a scene would have been the talk of the town. We would all have been ruined. I can see the scandal sheets now—‘Lord Devlin died trying to separate Miss Jane Lindsay and Miss Cherry Pettigrew. One can only speculate what circumstances brought this odd trio to Brighton.’”
“Then I would simply have choked her so she couldn’t scream and throw one of her temper tantrums.”
“How is it, Jane, that you have been placed in this position as guardian to Cherry? That’s certainly an unusual arrangement.”
“Actually, it was my father who was her guardian. And while I have no official authority over her, I am the only one my aunt can turn to for assistance.”
“And has there often been need to call on you?” asked Drew, his voice sympathetic.
Jane met those dark eyes, and she felt she might disappear into their depths, leaving behind all cares and concerns. Involuntarily, she tilted her head as he leaned forward and his hands travelled to her shoulders, urging her closer.
“Miss Jane did you need anything else?” called Tucker from the adjoining chamber. Jane snapped to attention. Standing, she held out her hand “Goodnight, Lord Devlin.”
“Good night, Jane.” He ignored her hand, and she turned on her heel. Gathering her dignity she returned to her own room, closing the door quietly.
Had it all been in her head? Had he really planned to kiss her? Or had she made a complete fool of herself, wearing her heart on her sleeve?
After blowing out the candle, Jane lay sleeplessly in the black silence.
Over all other considerations, that one confession dominated her thoughts. Her heart on her sleeve. When had that physical longing turned to love? Had the love always been there, but she had been too blind to see it?
Never mind when she had fallen in love with him. What should she do about it? She could hardly tell him; that would be too forward, too ill bred! And Jane never did or said anything that was less than proper!
Jane ignored the nagging little voice that chided and teased—then why are you, an unmarried female, only footsteps away from your lover’s room?
b
Her eyes red and swollen from lack of sleep, Jane boarded the packet the next day. Tucker, whose stomach had begun to churn while waiting on the quay, was persuaded to go to the cabin Drew had secured for their use. Jane waited on deck, her heart beating faster when she spied Drew’s dark hair and handsome face amongst the crowd. She restrained the impulse to meet him at the gangway and turned resolutely away.
She had only spoken to him for a moment that morning when he had delivered the tickets. He hadn’t lingered to chat, and Jane had been relieved that her self-control hadn’t been put to the test. For now that she had admitted to herself that she loved him, Jane wanted to shout it at the top of her lungs, to smile and sing and dance!
He would think her mad. Worse still, he would discover her secret—and secret it would remain.
Her grandmother always said, “A true lady never admits to a gentleman that she is interested in him until he has shown interest in her. And most of all, ladies never admit to loving a gentleman one bit more than he loves her.” Grandmother had known about such matters. Unlike Jane, she had reigned as the belle of the Season for three years before agreeing to a match. So Jane would have to be patient and discreet—traits that had once been ingrained in the very fibre of her being. Surely she still possessed enough strength of will to remain cool and aloof in Drew’s presence?
On this thought, Jane turned to greet Drew. He was deep in conversation with a squat little man of some fifty years of age. In a gold brocade coat and white powdered wig, he might have been dressed for a masked ball. Drew appeared engrossed in the man’s conversation, and Jane started forward. This movement earned her a frown and a casual wave of the hand, and Jane paused. Then it dawned on her. She whirled and hurried below, not pausing until she had bolted the cabin door and stood panting from excitement.
“What’s toward, Miss Jane? I knew I shouldna’ let you stay on board by your
self. No good will come of it, I says to myself!” Tucker tried to sit up.
“Nonsense!” Jane moved to the small round window. She gazed outside for a moment before turning back to the ashen-faced maid. “Tucker! Sit, back down, do! Here, let me wet a rag to cool your brow.”
Jane ignored the maid’s weak protests and settled Tucker upon the narrow lower berth. She pulled a chair closer and very gently began to chafe the maid’s wrists.
“There is a man on board I must avoid at all cost. He is quite wealthy and powerful, and his hobby is mischief. He was speaking to his lordship just now.”
“What’s ’is name?”
“Mr. Tuttle. He sounds harmless enough—even appears harmless in his out-dated wig and long coats, but he is a gossip of the worst kind. If there is no gossip to be had, he makes it up just to see what effect it might have. And the effect is usually disastrous.”
“Horrid man!”
“Exactly. We must do all we can to avoid him.”
“But you said Lord Devlin and this man were in conversation?”
“Yes, I do hope Drew is careful!”
There was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” said Jane cautiously.
“With th’ captain’s compliments, madam. I’ve brought some tea and biscuits for ye.”
Jane opened the door and allowed the fresh-faced cabin boy to enter. When he’d left, she bolted the door and inspected the tray. Tucker waved away all offers of nourishment, and Jane poured out a solitary cup of tea. As she lifted the creamer, she noticed a folded scrap of paper. Intrigued, she opened it.
“What’s that, Miss Jane?”
“A note from Lord Devlin warning us about Mr. Tuttle. When we arrive at Dieppe, we are to go directly to Le Poisson Rouge, a small inn just outside town. Lord Devlin will go ashore with Mr. Tuttle and see him settled elsewhere.”
“But won’t we run across him on th’ road to Paris?”
Jane took her lower lip between her teeth, as she was wont to do when pensive. She stirred her tea a moment then shrugged her shoulders. “We shall deal with that later. I’m certain Devlin will have some idea on the subject.”
“You’re going to leave it up to his lordship?”
Jane didn’t respond. Drew had forced himself on them. She would just allow him to find the solution.
b
When packing, Jane and Tucker decided that a lady in mourning attire would attract less attention than a solitary lady in fashionable dress. Accordingly, Jane dressed in dreary black, complete with bonnet and veil, as she and Tucker disembarked at the bustling port of Dieppe.
The jumble of languages and the shouts of the sailors made it difficult to locate transportation. Suddenly, however, a dirty urchin appeared and told them proudly to follow him. Aided by any equally dirty companion, the boy began to load their baggage into a sturdy dogcart. With Tucker riding behind and Jane on the seat, they had soon left the noise and confusion of the dock behind.
Jane repeated the name of the inn several times, trying to sound as French as possible. The child reassured her impatiently, adding that the monsieur had given him his orders for the two Anglaises.
Gaining the refuge of Le Poisson Rouge, Jane spoke to the landlord in her best schoolroom French. Her husband, she explained, had been detained, but they would require two rooms and a private parlour plus accommodation for her maid.
The landlord, an emaciated figure with one arm missing and sly, beady eyes began to shake his head. “Non et non, madame! I have only one room left. All the inns burst at the seams! You must settle for one small room. And a private parlour? Out of the question!”
Jane lifted her veil and, with one raised brow, deliberated over his appearance from head to toe. Although French, he was no different from other dishonest tradespeople she had dealt with in the past, and he began to squirm under her scrutiny.
“Monsieur, you are lying. You hope, no doubt, that you may raise your fee, but I am not so easily taken in. You will show me to my room, and you will prepare another for my husband.”
“But, madame…” protested the landlord weakly, his backbone crumbling before her implacable authority.
“Now.”
“Very well, madame. There is one small suite of rooms.” He was beaten, but he had one last ploy. “But I will be forced to break my promise to another patron, one who has paid well for the rooms.” The gleam in his shifty eyes was back.
“Then do so.”
His shoulders slumped. “Yes, madame.”
b
“Monsieur, I am sorry, but I have no more room.”
Drew grinned at the surly landlord. “Not even for an old friend?”
“I do not know you, monsieur.”
“I suppose I have grown, but surely my old friend, Jean-Francois DuClaire, remembers his fellow pirate—Captain Savage!”
The Frenchman studied Drew for a moment before recognition and remembrance lit his face. “Drew, my old friend! Welcome!”
Drew received the obligatory kiss on both cheeks and slapped Jean-Francois’s back.
“Enter, enter! You will stay in my apartment, yes?”
“Actually no, my wife should already be here.”
“Your…wife?”
“Yes, an English lady with her maid.”
Some of his host’s jocularity faded. “Yes, she is here. In my best suite. Had she informed me who her husband was…”
“I didn’t tell her I had spent an entire summer here when we were boys. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Ah, well, never mind! Tell me,” said Jean-Francois, “how are your parents?”
“My father died not long after our stay here.”
“I am sorry.”
“My mother, however, remains in excellent health. I know she would like to see you again. And your parents?”
“Both gone. It was the war; it aged them.”
“And you?” Drew couldn’t help but notice Jean-Francois’s empty sleeve.
“Yes, me too. I was in the artillery. A charge exploded prematurely. It was, perhaps, for the best. I had my fill of death and destruction. But it is over now.”
“Thank God. So, have you a family?”
“Yes, my good wife, Lucie, two daughters, and three sons.”
“You’re a lucky man.”
“You and your wife, you have children?”
“Uh, no. Not yet.”
“The little ones, they make the marriage worthwhile, especially when one’s wife is—”
“Jean-Francois!” A voice called from another room.
The landlord bellowed out a response to his wife’s summons.
“Wives! A mixed blessing. My wife, like yours, is a woman who knows what she wants and demands to be heard.”
“Jean-Francois!”
“A moment, woman! Come, Drew, I will show you to your rooms.”
b
“For pity’s sake, Jane, what did you do to Jean-Francois? I have just endured a five minute speech of commiseration about the cruelty of wives.”
Leaning against the closed door to their tiny sitting area, Drew’s eyes held a distinct gleam of admiration, which Jane missed entirely.
“Then you should have told that weasely man to keep his opinions of your wife to himself!”
He laughed, and Jane returned a sheepish grin. She indicated the chair opposite hers, and Drew sat down.
“I should have told you to mention that your husband was his old friend Drew.”
“That certainly would have made things easier!”
“Sorry my dear.”
“How did you two meet? He seems an odd sort of friend to me.”
“He was not always so. I spent the summer here when I was nine or ten. It was the happiest time of my life. My mother and father were here, too, like a real family. And, away from the social pressures of London, my father treated my mother like a person of worth. Mother was ill. I think she’d had a miscarriage, although they never told me so. But it was wonderful t
o be here. Mother speaks fluent French, and my father, who was not very learned, depended on her to get by. I picked it up rapidly with Jean-Francois as a playmate. We spent hours on the beaches playing pirates, hunting for buried treasure.”
“So you do have some pleasant childhood memories.”
“Yes, but it didn’t last. Mother got well, and we returned to London. Father was worse than ever. It was as though he was embarrassed for being nice to his own wife. I didn’t realize at the time, but it signalled the beginning of those wild, reckless ways that led to his death in that curricle race.”
“I’m so sorry, Drew.”
He smiled. “Before going to the Indies, when I made such a cake of myself in London over…anyway, my first thought of refuge was this place.” He looked around the comfortable room. “But we were at war with France, so it wasn’t to be considered.”
Drew stretched his long legs toward the fire, shifting position and mood. “I say, it’s unseasonably cold for this time of year. I understand it’s been raining almost every day for the past three weeks. Until two days ago, the roads were all but impassable.”
Jane sat forward. “Then perhaps Cherry is still in Dieppe.”
“No, I’ve asked at every inn. No one even remembers seeing such a couple.”
“But surely they landed here?”
“Yes, there’s no doubt about that. The captain of one of the packets said he remembered her quite well from yesterday’s voyage.”
“They must have taken coach for Paris immediately. Perhaps they feared they were being followed. Cherry would love to think that she was being pursued; it would add to the excitement. Drat the girl!”
Jane’s bitter tones made Drew long to comfort her. Instead, he looked around the cosy chamber. “Have you ordered our supper? I’m starved.”