*
A light tap on the door signaled the Baloch’s return. Grace had abandoned her gown and corset, but had kept her under things. Mr. Jamot had brought her an over-sized shirt and loose breeches. “What of my hair?” she asked as she loosened the braid.
“Wrap it about and cover it with this.” He shoved a tight knit cap into her hand. Grace did as he suggested. Her heart pounded so hard she was certain everyone must hear it. “You will not need your boots,” the Baloch observed. Grace sat to loosen the laces of her favorite shoes. She had spent an inordinate portion on the serviceable shoes, but they had served her well.
The Baloch spoke to the Roses while Grace rushed through her transformation. “Have you thought of a means to delay the knowledge of Lady Godown’s escape?”
Lyn nodded in the affirmative. “We know exactly how to keep the men at bay. Women have been doing so for centuries,” she said with a conspiratorial grin.
Jamot chuckled, “I would love to know what you plan, but I assume yours is a well-known secret.”
“Absolutely,” Lía assured.
Standing barefoot before a stranger, Grace blushed, but she accepted the hearty embraces of each of Lord Godown’s aunts.
Bel palmed Grace’s cheek. “You are to save yourself and Godown’s heir. Anything beyond that effort is not your concern.”
“But, Ma’am,” Grace began as tears pooled her eyes.
Lyn joined them. “Bel is correct. We release you from our responsibility. For years, we have protected Godown’s interests. We relinquish his care to your most able hands. No matter the outcome of this encounter, you are Gabriel’s wife, and we ask only one thing: Love him. Do not permit our nephew to place you from his life. He needs you.”
“Lady Godown,” the Baloch said softly. “It is time.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Good to his word, the Baloch led Grace through the lower passages. They passed several Chinese shipmen, but the ship’s crew gave the Baloch a wide berth. Grace ignored upon what she stepped. The wooden decks held a slimy wet coating. Instead, she concentrated upon where Lord Spectre held Lord Godown’s aunts. If she found assistance, she would must provide the authorities with an accurate description to aid in the Roses’ rescues. One of Lord Spectre’s men stopped Jamot, and Grace immediately turned away. If the English lord detained the Baloch, she would find her own way off the ship. Without looking directly at the Englishman, Grace pretended to curl a rope about a post as if she knew what she was doing. Hopefully, Spectre’s man had taken no notice of how closely she had trailed Jamot.
“His Lordship wishes to speak to you before you depart,” the man snarled. The Englishman’s contempt for the foreigner showed, but Grace would be thankful to count the Baloch among her “friends” if his plan brought the Roses to safety.
“I must secure the last of my shipment, and then I will make my farewells to Spectre,” Jamot said evenly. Grace slowed her efforts with the rope and stepped into the shadows surrounding one of the openings. She glanced about to keep her bearings. If someone spotted her, she could possibly jump overboard to escape. Of course, Spectre would give chase if that scenario became her only alternative.
“Lord Spectre said now,” the Englishman emphasized.
Jamot stepped threateningly toward the man. “I have but one master,” he said. “I will see the barrels are properly loaded onto the small boat, and then I will join Lord Spectre. If you fear His Lordship’s rancor, delay your return to the upper decks for five minutes. I promise to be on your heels.”
Grumbling his discontent, the man turned toward the starboard side of the ship. Jamot caught Grace’s arms to steady her step. “We must hurry, my Lady.”
Grace’s heartbeat raced as she slipped along beside him. She wondered if she should trust the Baloch. “Why? Why are you assisting my husband’s family? You are his enemy.”
Jamot braced her into a small boat before he spoke. “I do not appreciate Lord Spectre’s disdain,” he said honestly. “The man lacks honor. His Lordship blames the world for his misfortunes.”
“You mean he blames my husband,” she corrected.
Jamot smiled at her. “Lord Godown has chosen well, my Lady.” He loosened the rigging. “Lay flat on the boat’s bottom so it does not rock,” he instructed. “I will lower the boat as close to the sea as possible. Slip into the water quietly. I wish you safely home.”
“Bless you, Sir,” Grace said as the boat crept lower.
The Baloch leaned over the opening. “Tell Godown I still seek Mir’s emerald. Your husband will understand,” he whispered huskily.
Grace’s fingers dug into the notches in the wooden bench. The small boat swayed like a cradle as it inched closer to the icy water. She could no longer see the Baloch’s countenance, but she knew he remained above her. Every few seconds, the moon caught the reflection of the ring he wore.
Finally, the ropes no longer moved, and panic set in. Looking up into the night sky, she fought the urge to climb back aboard the ship. But she feared Lord Spectre’s revenge more than she did the possibility of dying. While she had changed her clothes, she and Godown’s aunts had analyzed the chances for their survival if Grace did not seek assistance.
“It does not speak well of our chances to overcome this ordeal if Talbot still hides his identity. He, evidently, believes his secret is safe.”
As she shed her gown, Grace said, “I wish I knew what this man plans for my husband.”
Lyn observed, “Talbot has made two attempts on Godown’s life. If not for you, my Dear, our Gabriel would have lost his life to Talbot’s bullet.”
Grace’s hand began to shake as she thought of how close Lord Godown had come to death. “Then we must find a means to stop Lord Spectre. If I fail…” She could not state the obvious.
“Yes,” Bel said coldly. “If you fail, Talbot will exact his revenge on Godown’s title, but we do not expect you to fail.”
Realizing belatedly she should move, Grace rolled to her knees and edged to the side of the boat. Lifting her leg over the edge, she refused to consider the dangers the icy water held. The knowledge as soon as he discovered her absence Talbot would kill Lord Godown’s aunts drove her. The coldness seeped into her bones as she lowered her weight into the water. As the icy waves sloshed against her chest and shoulders, Grace shuddered. Turning her head to determine her bearings, Grace released her hold on the boat’s side. With a mighty kick of her legs, she moved silently through the water. Her instinct was to swim as fast as she could, but her reason told her the cold would sap her strength. She must keep a steady pace and pray she reached land in time to save Lord Godown’s family.
*
Lowery peered through the glass. The moon presented a backdrop for the ship’s outline. The water was glass with soft wisps of fog hovering above the surface. From what little he could discern, a few men scuttled about the upper decks securing everything for the evening. With no wind, the sails were tethered to the masts.
“Some appear Chinese,” Monroe said from behind him. The Realm recruit carried his own glass.
Lowery did not turn to answer. He kept his eye pinned on the ship’s profile. “So it would seem. Quite unusual for Chinese and Englishmen to combine forces.” Well aware of how the sea would convey the sound, they spoke in hushed tones.
Bradwick leaned closer to Lowery to whisper. “Either a large fish is close to land or someone is in the water.” The young lord’s anticipation played in Bradwick’s voice as he gestured toward where the unknown moved effectively through the water.
Lowery’s glass sought the movement. “Appears to be a boy.”
“Do we pick him up, Sir?”
Lowery noticed their close proximity to the ship. “Move parallel to our quarry,” he instructed. “I want to be well away from the Sea Spray in case our ‘fish’ decides to scream when we cast our net.”
*
Grace concentrated on keeping her strokes even. Her mother had objected to Thomas Nelso
n’s teaching his daughters to swim. But Grace’s father had lost a favorite cousin when the girl had drowned accidentally. Thomas had insisted, and Grace thanked God he did. With each stroke, the ship grew smaller, but the shore still remained from sight. For a moment, she had panicked, wondering if she had swum in the wrong direction? Was she swimming further out into the harbor? Yet, reason returned, and Grace knew she had turned in the correct direction.
The cold filled every pore, and she had swallowed more water than she cared to consider. As she slowed her progress, the realization that someone followed her penetrated her reality. The sound of oars slapping the water off to her right sent Grace into action. She stretched out her arms and kicked frantically. She must reach the shore. If she did not, the Roses would die, and her husband would never forgive her.
Grace’s arms ached, but she refused to submit to those who chased her. However, as the small boat drew closer, she knew she could not out swim her pursuers, and she slowed her pace. When the net spread across where she treaded water, Grace did not attempt to avoid it. She laced her fingers through the lines and allowed the men to pull her over the lip of the boat. She landed like a dead fish on the boat’s bottom. Finally out of the water, she curled into a shivering ball of shame: She had failed.
“Hand me a blanket,” said the man at whose boot tips Grace stared. His weight shifted as he knelt beside her in the boat and untangled her legs and arms from the fisherman’s nettings. “You are safe,” he said as he spread the blanket across her back.
Grace automatically reached for the cloth, and as she turned the knitted hat, which had stayed in place throughout her short journey, fell away and her wet braid dropped to her shoulder.
“My God!” one of the other men exclaimed. “It is a woman.”
The one who knelt beside her wrestled his coat from his arms and shoulders. “Permit me to tend you,” he said as he flung the coat over her. Grasping Grace’s hands, he rubbed her fingers to warm them. “What are you doing in the water?” he coaxed.
Grace shivered so violently she could barely speak. “Those…on board…hold…my husband’s…family…as hostages. Please…I require…your assistance.” She prayed she had not made a mistake in trusting these men. All her hopes rested in these strangers.
“Tell me your name,” he rasped in concern.
She raised her chin in determination. “Lady Godown,” she announced.
She saw the fear and the recognition in his countenance. “Quick!” her rescuer motioned to the other two. His cohorts lent their efforts to the oars. “It is the marquis’s wife. We must remove her to safety.” The man gathered her to him. He rubbed her arms and legs to warm her.
“My husband?” she murmured, as he lifted her to his lap.
“The marquis is with Baron Swenton on the docks,” he told her. “We met at the Prince’s fete. I am Sir Carter.”
Grace snuggled into his chest. “Thank God. I knew not Lord Godown’s whereabouts.” She felt the baronet stiffen, but all she could think was she had found Godown, and he would save the Roses. As she accepted the baronet’s warmth, she wished it were her husband’s body, which breathed life into her lungs. How would Godown react to seeing her? Their last words to each other had not gone well. And he would likely blame Grace for placing his aunts in danger. Yet, she could not worry for her husband’s reception. As long as he and his associates could save the Three Roses, Grace would gladly suffer whatever he demanded of her.
As they drew nearer to the docks, Sir Carter called out, “Send someone for a physician. We have a lady in need of care. And send someone for the marquis. The woman is his wife.” Several men scrambled to do his bidding. As his men steadied the boat against the dock, Sir Carter lifted her into his arms and light-footed it from the boat to the lower planking.
“You do that very well, Sir Carter,” she murmured from where her head rested below his chin. “I imagine you are an excellent dancer.”
The baronet nuzzled her neck. Surprisingly, he kissed the soft fuzz at the crown of Grace’s head, and without shame, Grace admitted, if only to herself, she enjoyed the moment of intimacy. She had felt dirty after her husband’s accusations, and it was singular to know another might find her attractive. Her conceit had arrived. “I will not fail you,” he whispered hoarsely as he climbed the irregular steps leading to the main docks. “In fact, I will prove myself an excellent partner. Promise you will save me a dance at the first ball of the Season.” Looking up from where his lips grazed her hair, Grace saw Gabriel racing to meet them.
*
The cards had reflected his mood. He had lost every hand to the baron. It was appropriate that he lose in cards: He had lost everything that mattered in his world. The sound of approaching footsteps brought both he and Swenton to alert. Van Dyke’s head appeared in the opening. “Lord Godown, Sir Carter sends word he has fished your wife from the water.”
“Grace!” Gabriel was on the run. “Where is she?” he demanded as he rushed past Van Dyke and turned toward the harbor.
“At the lower docks!” Van Dyke called to Gabriel’s backside. Was she alive? he wondered as he zigzagged his way toward where Lowery would put it. Please God! His heart beat out a prayer. Do not take her from me.
Then he spotted Lowery’s head as his friend reached the top step. In the baronet’s arms was a tightly held bundle. As Gabriel rushed toward where his friend struggled under the bundle’s weigh, he noted how Lowery placed a light kiss on the person’s head. The person. Grace. His wife. The realization brought him to a stumbling halt before the baronet. Jealousy and confusion raced through Gabriel’s veins.
“Grace?” he murmured as he attempted to make sense from what was happening.
From deep in Sir Carter’s arms, she turned her head, and Gabriel looked deeply into the eyes of the woman who controlled his heart. “My Lord?”
He accepted his wife’s form from Lowery, and mechanically turned to the warehouse. Grace slid her arms about his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. For the first time in over a week, he felt human. “What were you doing in the water?” He prayed she had not considered suicide. Would Grace do something so foolish? he wondered. Would she kill herself and the child?
Grace’s lips brushed against his ear, and Gabriel realized how much he had missed her. “We were…taken hostage,” she said through trembling lips. “You must save them.”
Gabriel paused to stare into her countenance. “Who are we, Grace?” Her expression told him he did not wish to know the answer.
“Your aunts, my Lord,” she whispered. “If we do not hurry, Benjamin Talbot will kill them.”
Dismay colored Gabriel’s words. “But Benjamin Talbot died before I joined the Realm.”
“Lord Spectre,” his wife whispered. “The Ghost Lord.”
Gabriel lifted her higher in his arms. “You must tell me everything.” Entering the warehouse, he placed her gently in the chair he had vacated earlier. He striped his coat from his shoulders and replaced Lowery’s jacket with his. Swenton handed Grace a glass of brandy. Gabriel knelt before her. “Where is the coach, Sweetheart?”
She sipped the brandy. “Talbot’s men stopped us some thirty miles from Gossling Hill. That was early this morning. We thought we had encountered a highwayman, but a small group of masked men took control of the coach. They struck John Coachman and left him along the road.”
“I will see to him,” Gabriel assured her. He motioned to his friends to send someone to search for his carriage.
“Oh, my Lord,” she said on a gasp. “I fear for your aunts. They have had nothing to eat all day, and Lía is poorly. They set themselves an impossible task: to keep Lord Talbot from discovering I am no longer aboard the ship.”
“Where are they holding my aunts?” he asked as he buttoned his coat about her.
“In one of the officer’s quarters. It was a small room on the leeward side. I could lead you to it.”
Gabriel said sternly, “You have done enough. The Roses
would expect you to take care of yourself.”
“But I promised I would see them well,” Grace protested.
“Excuse me, my Lord,” one of the men that had joined them at the inn said from the open door.
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, Henderson?”
“We have located Lady Godown’s carriage in a nearby facility. It is being brought around, Sir.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel acknowledged. “Have someone bring Her Ladyship’s trunk to her immediately and show the physician in as soon as he arrives.”
“Yes, Sir.” The man withdrew to do Gabriel’s bidding.
Gabriel caressed Grace’s cheek. “What else should I know?”
She blushed, but she told him the truth. “Lord Talbot threatened to make me his before turning your aunts and me over to the crew. The gentleman claims you denied him his title, and he would have his revenge.”
Gabriel frowned deeply. “I barely knew Talbot. Did the man say how I prevented his ascension to Lord Templeton’s title?”
“No, and neither did your aunts understand your perceived interference.”
“Excuse me, Lady Godown,” Lowery said as he organized their return to the ship. “Could you tell us how you managed to escape?”
This was the part of her story Gabriel had purposely avoided. He did not want to think on what Grace had done to secure her own safety. Had Grace managed to parlay a discovered weakness in Talbot’s plan? Had she permitted the man liberties in order to earn her freedom? Or worst, was Grace part of a scheme to entrap him? Gabriel had no choice. He must be a part of taking the Chinese ship. He must liberate his aunts and settle the grudge Talbot held against him.
“The man known as Jamot assisted in my flight.”
Gabriel had expected many responses, but not the one tripping from his wife’s lips. “Jamot!” he said incredulously. “The man who has attempted to kill Lady Eleanor, the Duchess, and Lady Yardley? Why would he extend his benevolence to my wife, but not to the others?”
Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace Page 33