by Sherry Gloag
“He had a way with him,” Honor agreed flatly. “Few people disliked him.”
Why, she wondered, had it become so hard to recall his face? Guilt ripped through her when Vidal’s wry grin filled her mind instead.
“Will he send us to England?”
“Oh yes.” Now it was her turn to offer a wry grin. “Make no mistake, he will achieve his goals and will never set foot in England again until the day is set for our hanging.”
“You believe he can make these false accusations stick?”
“I am sure you are not naïve enough to believe a good scandal is relished by those with nothing more to do than spread gossip and run from one ball to the next. I warned you not to underestimate Dumas.”
“How did he know you would ask me to stay with you and your friend would invite Juan to stay with him?”
“Given his threat, it was inevitable he’d understand we’d all want to remain in touch. And you must own, by doing so, we make it more difficult for any of his English agents to pick us off one by one.”
“That is true,” Consuela said and headed for her side of the wide bed.
Chapter Fourteen
“I never thought I’d say this.” Honor’s disbelieving laugh filled the coach, “but I miss the freedom we enjoyed while travelling across Spain.”
When Consuela began to protest, Honor raised her hand in acknowledgement. “Yes, I know, we had many moments of discomfort and danger, but I find myself wishing I could ride beside the men. If only Dumas would agree to let us to keep these shutters down all the time, I do believe I wouldn’t feel so restricted.” She waved a hand towards the scenery in view since she’d let down the leather shutter for a moment to allow fresh air into the coach. “As far as the eye can see there are hills covered in grape vines, and a house in the distance and yet I feel like screaming. It seems impossible we have travelled so far in so few days.” She craned her head to look back at the mountains they’d crossed and now left behind. “How can I be so...”
Without losing pace, the horses swept to their left, tumbling the passengers in the coach against the side of the vehicle. Open iron gates flashed by and rough track gave way to a well packed drive.
Struggling to sit upright, Consuela swore and straightened her skirts. “He has fooled us,” she spat. “He was too charming and we let him fool us.”
Why, Honor asked silently, had she allowed herself to be persuaded by the man’s charm and impeccable courtesy to her and Consuela over the last three days. The bile of betrayal choked her. She watched the house as they drew closer.
“If this is some kind of prison it is the most distinguished I’ve ever seen,” she said, hope rising again. Flowers and shrubs added colour to the front of the building, and faded green wooden shutters contrasted against the stonework which glowed in the cool winter sunshine.
Another, less affluent structure, stood a short distance away to the left of the main house. Two men, leading a horse pulling a laden cart, appeared round the building and disappeared inside, just as their own vehicle rumbled to a halt.
“It is the wrong time of year to fully enjoy the wine making process, but I thought you may enjoy sampling some of the produce from this area.” Dumas stood by the open carriage door and assisted both women to the ground.
“Wine?” Honor struggled to adjust her thinking. Not a matter of betrayal but an indulgence, an effort by their extraordinary host to share the pleasures of his country with them.
A quick glance at Consuela confirmed she too was having trouble re-assessing the situation.
“I see my surprise has not gone down well, and you expected something less pleasurable. My abject apologies.” Le duc helped Honor down from the coach and then offered his hand to Consuela. “I did not mean to alarm you, and see I should have offered you the pleasure of anticipation and so prevented such misconceptions.” All the while he led them towards a rotund little man who was in deep conversation with Vidal and Juan.
With Consuela’s hand tucked into his arm Gervaise Dumas cast a rueful smile in her direction. “I gather from his enthusiasm, your friend knows about growing wine?”
“I’m not sure how much of an expert Juan is, but he talks knowledgeably about it.”
Had he? Honor couldn’t remember and wondered whether the subject had come up on one of the two occasions she’d held up their progress due to illness or injury. Dumas spoke the truth; she’d never seen the Spaniard so animated.
“You are a strange man.” Unaware she’d spoken her thoughts aloud, Honor almost bumped into him when Dumas stopped and turned to her.
“Why so?” he asked, and offered a look of regret. “Do you assume I cannot like, or respect, my enemy?”
When she simply stared at his unexpected comment he patted her arm and laughed. “Come now, my lady. Because of your late husband’s work I have been aware of the healing and compassion you offered the soldiers, night after night. Indeed, I gather you even sat with some prisoners when your commander permitted it.”
“They were frightened young men who feared dying more than the consequences of living. If I still had their things I would have given them to you to pass on to their families.”
For a while neither said any more as they both knew the items had been left behind when she fled the camp with Phillipe. They watched Consuela join the men and at a leisurely pace followed them.
“If we’d met at any other time, we could all have been friends, do you not agree?”
“I do believe you are right,” she looked up and joined in with his laughter.
“Care to share the joke?”
Her amusement faded at the edge in Vidal’s voice. “No joke, just possibilities.” With that she laid her hand on le duc's arm and allowed him to introduce her to the viticulturist.
They stayed for more than an hour, sampled several different wines, and shared a simple meal put on by the owner’s wife.
As they walked back to the coach Honor stopped to soak up the vision of the sunshine on the distant snow-capped mountains.
“This is a beautiful place,” she told the owner and smiled when he agreed.
With a courtesy that matched le duc's, he handed Honor and Consuela back into the coach. “We do not get many visitors these days. Thank you for coming.” He stepped back and the crack of the groom’s whip had the horses surging forward.
“He has all that land and a business to run and is probably unsure how long his customers will keep buying. I wonder whether it is much affected by the war.” Consuela hung out of the aperture until the house was no longer visible.
“As a girl I dreamed of living in a place like this.” She settled back and straightened out the folds of her skirt. “Tell me about your home.”
“At the moment I’m not sure where my home is.” Honor voiced the thoughts occupying her mind for the last couple of days.
“I do not understand. How can you invite me to stay with you if you have no home?”
“It is your choice, Consuela. You can come with me once I know whether I am entitled to return to Devlin’s estate, or you can stay with Juan.”
“No I cannot, for Juan has accepted your lord Vidal’s offer to stay with him, and it would not be right for a woman to remain in a gentleman’s home unchaperoned. Even I know it would be frowned upon in your country.”
“There is that,” Honor said, as though the idea had never occurred to her. “You had better come with me then. I am sure we can find somewhere to settle. Or do you have friends who would take you in?”
Somehow she doubted Vidal would leave her to find her own way once they reached Plymouth, but if she didn’t know where her home might be, how could he escort her anywhere else?
“Perhaps we can find a house to share in London. Would you like that?” If, as seemed likely, Lord Dundas and his friends doubted her integrity, they would demand she base herself in Town for the foreseeable future until she cleared her name. If he’d lived, would they have listened to Phillipe’s vers
ion of events of that fateful morning? The outcome would have lead to the inevitable. They’d have hanged him for betraying one of their own.
It took a moment for Consuela’s words to penetrate her sombre thoughts.
“Look at the crush of vehicles! Where do you think we are?”
“Vidal mentioned something about Bordeaux. But since le duc's addition to our party he’s hardly spoken to me. I thought he said we would have to avoid the place for fear of recognition, but perhaps Dumas has changed his mind.”
The number of vehicles jostling for position reminded her of London at the height of the Season. A yearning, so sharp it stole her breath, lodged in her throat. It hit her as the horses wove their way through the mêlée of so many different kinds of coaches and carriages. She realised how much she missed her home. Had her love for Devlin overridden her love of home? And if it had, why did she long for the sound of Vidal’s voice? He’d barely spoken to her since they’d crossed into France, indeed had scarcely glanced her way. Not that she’d looked out for it. So why did her heart skip a beat at his approach so soon after losing Devlin?
* * * *
“You will draw more attention if you continue to ignore Lady Beaumont than you would if you occasionally conversed with her. I see le duc watching you very carefully.”
“He’s been watching all of us.”
“Indeed,” Juan agreed, and laid a hand on Vidal’s sleeve. “But now it is more calculating. He notices how you avoid Honor, and I’d wager is conniving how he can turn this to his advantage. If you do not take care you will arrive home to find yourself accused of plotting her husband’s death so you can marry her.”
It made a macabre kind of sense, Vidal acknowledged. Hadn’t he avoided Honor in an attempt to prevent the conclusions Juan predicted?
“In my endeavour to prevent that, it seems I have leaned too far the other way.”
With a click of his tongue he directed his mount to fall back and waited for the coach to catch up; when Consuela peered out, he leaned forward.
“I’m sorry for neglecting you since le duc offered you such extravagant transport,” he began, noting the happy smile Consuela offered him and the equally cautious one from Honor.
“You are not comfortable?” One glance at the interior persuaded him they travelled in the lap of luxury, so what ailed her?
“We are very snug.” Consuela replied with a happy smile.
Vidal remembered in time to address Honor by her title. “Lady Beaumont?”
“Indeed we are enjoying every consideration and lack for nothing, but I fear you are in danger of being crushed if you are not careful,” she said as a passing carriage narrowly missed him. “Do you have time to tell us where we are before you leave us again?”
“Bordeaux, ma'am.” For the life of him he failed to keep his anger from his voice.
“I understood at dinner last night le duc intended to skirt the town.”
“He has changed his mind and intends to introduce you to Place de la Bourse.”
Concern chased the politely guarded look from her eyes. “Isn’t that risky?”
“I agree, but nothing I say will detract Dumas from what he perceives as a vast treat for you both. He is convinced that, and I quote, ‘the beauty of Place de la Bourse will chase away any blue-devils you acquired while journeying across Spain.”
“I see.” A gleam of mischief lit her eyes. “Were we blue-devilled, Consuela?”
“We were many things in Spain but that was not one of them. However, I shall enjoy visiting a new place. Please tell le duc, we are charmed by his thoughtfulness.”
“He’s playing a dark game, and I haven’t fathomed what it is,” Vidal said in a low voice before urging his horse forward.
* * * *
“Tell us about this place you are taking us to,” Consuela asked.
“Let me see, what do I think you will like? While its translation into English is less than romantic, it is accurate never-the-less.” He paused, deliberately Honor thought, when Consuela’s eyes lit up with interest.
“If it is less than romantic, I presume trade is involved.” Honor laughed. While she intended to enjoy the outing, a darker side of her questioned the duke’s motives. “Come now, tell us and put us out of our misery.”
With a laugh he tucked Consuela’s hand into his arm and offered his other for Honor. Finding no reason to disoblige she placed her fingers in the crook of his extended arm.
Honor looked for conceit and even deceit and found none in le duc’s countenance. She couldn’t identify the difference in the man since their encounter in Spain, but he had changed.
“Because the Chamber of commerce and other economic institutions are installed in the surrounding buildings it became known as the Place de la Bourse and simply put, translates to ‘Square of the Purse’.”
Honor couldn’t help it, and burst out laughing. “Well,” she said and came to a halt to better survey her surroundings. “The buildings are quite inspiring, and blend in with their surroundings beautifully, yet stand out for what they are. A clever mixture from their designer, they look recent and yet make you think they’ve been here forever.”
“What is the delay?” Vidal asked as, caught up in the excitement of such a magnificent square, Consuela released her grip on le duc's arm and skipped forward.
“Be calm, my friends.” The duke laughed, a carefree sound, and turned to the men. “The south pavilion houses the Musée des Douanes and not only displays the history of Bordeaux as a port town, but models of different ships, various navigational instruments and much more. I thought it might interest you my lord, and your friend Juan.”
When the men hesitated, the duke held their gaze and shook his head. “Both ladies are safe in my care. Shall we say—” He pulled his watch from his pocket and studied it. “Ah hour? Perhaps more? I believe it has extensive displays. We will enjoy a stroll and find somewhere to enjoy another sample of the local wine.”
Reluctantly the men set of in the direction off the museum.
“That was very naughty of you.” Honor offered a smile with her mild rebuke.
When Consuela ran ahead, the duke turned a serious face to her. “It has come to my notice that my enemies are closing in.”
Not a trace of humour remained in his eyes or round his mouth. He stopped walking and placed a preventative hand on her arm. Not knowing what to say, or what the duke expected from her, Honor stayed silent.
“While you need not fear your wretched brother-in-law any more, I am afraid he managed to spread his rumours far and wide before he left England.”
“So you told me.” Her empathy ebbed with his reminder of what lay in store for her once she reached home.
“There is little I can do that will not exacerbate the situation, and it might amuse you to learn that while he betrayed his brother, and you, he also betrayed me, too.”
“He told you?” Vidal had warned her of Cedric’s villainy, but this? Le duc’s lips tightened, and his eyes grew hard.
“Indeed, almost his last words were his boast that he’d been paid twice for the same information.”
“Then surely they are nothing more than the idle threats of an evil man bent on causing mischief to the end.”
“So I thought,” le duc agreed. “Sadly, this time he did not lie. If I return to England I will swing from Tyburn before you, and there will be no room for explanation. There is, I believe, a bounty on my head, and so it grieves me to admit that I will not be visiting your country anytime soon, if ever again.”
“How does this affect me?” A quick glance revealed Consuela studying some wares displayed outside a building across the square.
“I have done what I can to restore your good name, but, as I said, now my own position has been compromised. It may not be enough. Indeed it could work against you.” He looked down, real regret in his eyes.
“I told you, did I not, that I have only one mistress?”
“You did,” Honor confirme
d. “Your country.”
“I knew I could rely on your good memory for I have a confession to make. One I hope will not distress you, rather you will remember with a little fondness.” He let go of her arm, and pushed his hands into his pockets.
“I once thought myself in love with a woman, but she taught me well never to trust her gender again, and until I met you I never deviated from that vow.”
Puzzled more than embarrassed, Honor shook her head in semi denial of what she knew was coming.
“I will not go so far as to describe what I feel for you as love, rather that no other woman has touched my heart the way you do, and that is why I have taken it upon myself to escort you and your friends through France.” He looked round at the people. “I intended to offer you the use my yacht to ensure your safe arrival in England, a final damning of your character in the eyes of your authorities. Now I find I cannot do it, so I have arranged for another vessel to carry you across the Channel. Remember the name — it is important. You will ask the captain 'if this is the Marie Anne, not the queen'. Only then will he let you onboard.”
“But will you not be there to see us set sail?”
When Dumas shook his head, Honor couldn’t identify the feelings swirling through her. She’d feared him, loathed him, been grateful to him for the provisions he’d left them, and was more than a little apprehensive of his motivation for meeting them at Irun and escorting them across France.
“No, my dear, it is unlikely I will be there when you set sail.”
“Then how will I know this captain?”
“Because he will be wearing a ring just like this.” The duke pulled a thick gold chain over his head and she saw a large emerald ring set in finely tooled gold. “Please keep it safe on your person at all times, for without it you will never get out of France.”
Before she could stop him, the duke placed the chain over her head and round her neck. “Be sure no one other than my lord Vidal knows about this. To do so would endanger lives even more than they are already.” He stepped back, brushed a gentle finger across her cheek, and linked her hand over his arm once more before heading in Consuela’s direction.