"Why not?" Nicholai shifted in his chair. "Is it asking too much that she remain pure until she is twenty-one years of age? Adrienne is certainly capable of managing her own life, but I cannot help worrying because she is hot-blooded and impetuous. If I am going to allow her to go off to a strange estate in Hampshire, can I not be assured, as her father, that some scoundrel won't be able to take advantage of her at a weak moment?"
"Well, then..." Nathan looked ahead to autumn, when he'd be back in Barbados, standing on his new fifty acres on the eastern coast. Xavier Crowe would be utterly crazed to find Nathan close enough to monitor the goings-on at Crowe's Nest! The thought made him grin suddenly. "I can stand anything for four months, even—" He caught himself. "Even being exiled to the wilds of Hampshire for the summer!" His laughter was edged with relief, for he'd very nearly slipped and made an insulting reference to Nicholai's bluestocking daughter. No doubt Nicholai was a doting father, but surely Adrienne would be married by now if she were as attractive as she'd been described.
It was an odd arrangement indeed, and it seemed to indicate that Beauvisage was an overprotective father, but who was Nathan to judge? The outcome for him would be fantastic. During his four-month exile in a drafty castle, he could read all the books he'd postponed, meanwhile keeping one eye on Adrienne Beauvisage, who was doubtless a temperamental spinster. Although it sounded dull, 'twould be a small enough price to pay for Beauvisage's strategically located land. Soon those acres would belong to Nathan, and he'd finally have means to thwart Xavier Crowe!
* * *
"You can perceive, my dear Miss Beau, that I have a method, can you not?" Lady Thomasina Harms waved Adrienne into her dressing room, which was arrayed with clothing and books being packed for the journey to Hampshire.
It was late, Adrienne was exhausted, and she had long ago given up saying her name properly for her new employer. Lady Thomasina had fixed upon "Miss Beau," and so it would be. It was the least of the old woman's eccentricities. From her lace turban and plump face, painted with too much crimson lip salve and rouge, to her pudgy body swathed in an elaborate embroidered gown and excessive jewelry, Lady Thomasina was a startling sight. Adrienne's interview had stretched into an endless supper, after which her employer had insisted on this visit to her dressing room.
"No doubt a bright girl like you can make sense of my method, hmm?"
Adrienne stared at the veritable stew of aging gowns, misshapen slippers, petticoats, chemises, bizarre hats and turbans, pieces of jewelry, fans, reticules, muffs, gloves, and more. She pursed her lips and made an attempt: "I do seem to notice a pattern of colors...."
"Bravo!" Lady Thomasina cheered, clapping her hands.
"You'll learn in no time. At all times, even in transit, my possessions are arranged according to color and size, and I am very sensitive to even one item out of place!" She brought her thickly powdered face close to Adrienne's. "I am relying on you, Miss Beau, to watch over my things with a vigilant eye."
It was quite late by the time Adrienne returned to her own furnished rooms, and she was too tired to do anything more than prepare for bed. Lady Thomasina had announced that they would depart morning after next, so Adrienne decided to spend the following day packing. She would be taking everything that wasn't in France, since her home would henceforth be with Lady Thomasina.
The prospect of rusticating with an eccentric old woman in the Hampshire hinterlands couldn't help but give Adrienne pause, but she lectured herself while snuggling into bed. "Don't be gooseish. It will be an adventure," she chided herself. "Much better than going home with Papa, where everything is familiar!"
The threatening note from Walter Frakes-Hogg leaped into her mind then, as she lay quietly in the dark. To keep her fears at bay, Adrienne conjured fanciful images of her future at Harms Castle, lingering on the prospect of visits from that legendary dandy, Huntsford Harms. At last, sleep carried her away...
In the morning, Adrienne sent word to her father that she would meet him at noon to make her farewells. She chose a pretty walking dress of lilac muslin, with satin ribbons that trailed down loose from the middle of her back, and concealed most of her curls under a jaunty tartarian turban with a lilac-striped band. Her scent, a light essence of lilac mixed for her in Paris, completed the effect.
Then, after organizing most of her possessions and luggage, Adrienne left the actual packing until after her appointment. In the doorway, she remembered her priceless new fan and took it with her. Her landlady was waiting downstairs in the vestibule, wearing a long face.
"How I shall miss you, dear Adrienne." Miss Hedgecoe was the aunt of Venetia Hedgecoe, a close friend from school and Adrienne's partner in numerous adventures. The elderly woman had welcomed her when she fled Walter Frakes-Hogg's house.
"And I you." Adrienne gave her a warm hug.
"Still, I don't want you to end up a lonely spinster like me. I'm glad you're venturing back out into the world." Miss Hedgecoe held out a letter. "This just arrived by messenger."
Adrienne paled at the sight of Walter's handwriting, but didn't want to worry her friend. "Thank you, dear. I must dash to meet Papa, so I'll read it on the way."
Once inside a hack, she gave the name of the hotel to the driver, then sat back, staring at the missive as if it were a poisonous snake. "I ought to simply tear the thing up and toss it away!" Adrienne thought. "That bully cannot hurt me!" But curiosity won out again. She broke the plain seal and read:
I will find you!
* * *
Nicholai had a light luncheon served in his private sitting room. Servants from the hotel's dining room had just finished laying out the dishes on a table set with fine white linen when Nathan Raveneau peeked out of his host's bedchamber.
"How long do you want me to hide in here?"
"You won't be hiding exactly," Nicholai amended. "Waiting is a better word. You're just waiting in here until I have Adrienne prepared for our plan."
"And then I should go out into the hotel corridor through this other door—" Nathan pointed to the narrow exit in the corner of the bedchamber. "—and knock, as if I'm just arriving?" He was looking amused yet dashing in his top boots, fawn breeches, and a blue coat he'd meant to throw away last year because of some frayed spots. It was a costume ordered by his new employer, to add to Nathan's new image of middle-class hired protector.
"That's right—you go out and knock at the other door when you hear me say 'Mr. Essex will be here at any moment.' "
"Who? Oh, right, that's me!" Then Nathan pressed, "What if that note you forged and I delivered this morning doesn't work? What if she isn't afraid?" And he thought, How did I get myself into this absurd coil? Could I have drunk so much more last night than I remember? It was insane, and yet the prospect of bringing down Xavier Crowe in the near future was irresistible...
"Don't worry," Nicholai was saying. "I know how to handle my daughter."
Raveneau couldn't suppress a sardonic laugh. "Yes. Clearly you have young Miss Beauvisage completely in your power!"
"Very amusing." A sudden thought brought him up short. "I nearly forgot to give you your spectacles!"
"Spectacles?" Nathan put the gold-framed lenses on and stared at himself in the mirror.
"They're clear, but seemed a good addition to your new costume. You don't look a bit like Nathan Raveneau, hmm?"
At that, there was a knock. Startled, Nicholai pushed the younger man into the bedchamber, closed the door, and went to greet his daughter.
Adrienne's embrace was warm. "Oh, Papa, you are so good and patient and I am hopeless. Are you going to forgive me before we part and you return to France?"
"Perhaps." In the face of her affection, he felt a pang of guilt. Adrienne might be full of mischief, but she'd never lied to him. "Of course I forgive you. Come and eat while the food is warm."
"Look at my beautiful new fan!" She opened it and waved it delicately to and fro. "It belonged to Marie Antoinette!"
"Stunning, my darling
." Nicholai privately suspected that the shopkeeper had concocted that bit of whimsy.
"Thank you, Papa." She kissed his cheek. "I bought it with the money you put in my reticule!"
Adrienne discovered that she was famished after the morning of preparations for her journey. Her father looked on admiringly as she devoured salmon mousse and chattered about the upcoming journey with Lady Thomasina Harms to the legendary Harms Castle in Hampshire.
"Listen to me!" Adrienne exclaimed suddenly, between bites of lemon bread. "I've prattled on hopelessly. You must tell me all your news. What have you been doing in London since last we met?"
He reached across the table to clasp her hand. "Only hoping that you'll change your mind and travel home with me. How pleased your mother would be—"
"You're very unfair, invoking Maman like that!" she scolded. "Besides, she was a very independent woman, and I know that she would be the first to understand that I'm too old to cling to her apron strings."
"I'm not just behaving like a stuffy father now." Nicholai paused, staring into her lively eyes. "I have real cause to fear for your safety, and I can't just walk away under these circumstances. You see... I pieced together the note you tossed away in my fireplace yesterday. I know that Walter Frakes-Hogg is far from the harmless bully you have made him out to be."
Adrienne looked crushed. Lowering her eyes, she set down her fork, and her shoulders drooped. "Will you force me to go with you?" When he didn't reply immediately, she straightened again, hopefully, and went to kneel beside her father's chair. "Oh, Papa, my feelings are all bittersweet. It's certainly nothing against you or Maman or our wonderful home! And I am fully aware that life at Harms Castle will doubtless be dull... but something deep within me yearns for fresh experiences."
Filled with pride, he cradled her fine-boned face in his hands and kissed her tousled dark-auburn curls. "I understand better than I care to admit. Did you imagine that you acquired your character out of thin air?" Nicholai stood, lifting her to her feet. "I will let you remain in England on one condition."
"Anything!" She was flushed with excitement.
It occurred to Nicholai that his daughter was as incautious as Nathan Raveneau had been when they'd exchanged these same words. "I want you to allow someone to look after you until your twenty-first birthday. That's just four months from now, but my hope is that Walter Frakes-Hogg will lose interest by then if he realizes that you are being guarded."
Clearly taken aback, Adrienne searched his face. "A—protector? How very odd, Papa! What sort of person would want to hover over me in Harms Castle?"
"As it happens," he boomed, "I've discovered a grand fellow! His name's Nathan—uh—Essex, and he's had experience at this sort of thing—"
"Do you mean he's some sort of thug'? Really, Papa, it just won't do—"
"Mr. Essex will be arriving at any moment to meet you," he insisted. "I am afraid that you have no choice, my girl."
No sooner had she opened her mouth to utter another protest then a sharp knock came at the door to her father's suite. Adrienne's heart was beating fast; she felt rather like a doe, cornered by hunters in the forest. Reaching for her new fan, she opened it and created a calming breeze.
"Welcome, Mr. Essex," Nicholai was drawing the younger man into the sitting room. When Adrienne beheld them together, her first traitorous thought was that the Essex fellow was nearly as handsome as her father. Gleaming black hair, fashionably wind-blown, set off a face that could have been a buccaneer's but for a simple pair of gold spectacles. He gave her a faintly sardonic grin that heightened her first impression. Essex was tall, with a lithe yet powerful physique, and he moved with graceful self-assurance, suggesting a person of quality.
But then Adrienne remembered that he had been hired by her father to look after her, and she noticed his worn top boots and coat. Nathan Essex was a working man.
He seemed to know his place, for when he approached her, he bowed his head and didn't extend his hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Miss Beauvisage."
Even as she began to reply, Adrienne knew a delayed shock of recognition that was sharpened by the sound of his voice. "You—you're the coachman, aren't you!"
His eyes came up, blue with a glimmer of sea-green in them, and settled on the open fan. "Oh—no..."
"What's this all about?" Nicholai demanded, stepping between them.
She stamped her foot. "Where did you find this rude, hideous—person, Papa?"
Nathan heard himself bark, "Before you call others rude, miss, you might examine your own behavior! Besides rude, you're spoiled—"
"Arrogant!" Adrienne pointed back at him.
"Pretentious!" he parried.
"Oooh! Insolent!"
Horrified, Nicholai held up a hand. "You both will be silent this instant!" He could feel the sparks flashing through the air between his daughter and Raveneau. "I will hear Adrienne first, then Nathan."
"Papa, I hope you have proper references for this brute, because I don't believe that he can be qualified to protect me from a mosquito, let alone a dangerous man!"
"Gammon," Nathan muttered.
"I want only to hear—briefly—how and where the two of you met previously," her father said. "Leave out your opinions of Mr. Essex's character."
"Oh, all right. I was proceeding along Oxford Street after my appointment with you yesterday, Papa, when I chanced to see a simply exquisite fan in Mr. Ralna's shop. It happens to be an historical relic." She fluttered her new possession for emphasis. "My own hack driver was making an effort to move out of the flow of traffic, but this odious beast refused to give way. He's a common coachman, Papa, nothing more! I asked him myself, very politely, and he laughed at me! We quarreled, and he pursued me and mocked me, and then he nearly following me into the fanmaker's shop!"
Nicholai turned concerned eyes on Nathan Raveneau. Certainly he was not a coachman, but—could he have misjudged the man?
"Your daughter has a curious way of twisting the truth to suit her needs," Nathan said coolly. "As I saw it, her overpowering need to acquire this frivolous fan nearly caused an accident among the rest of us on Oxford Street! Her hack tried to cut me off, frightening my horses, and they reared back and nearly collided with another vehicle. When I dared question her driver, Miss Beauvisage proceeded to address me as if I were a chimneysweep who could barely manage the King's English! A moment later she jumped out into the traffic and bore down on my phaeton, yelling and pointing her parasol at me as if she might stab me!" He paused to give her a quelling glance. "To defend myself, I removed it from her grasp. She insulted me further, and I followed her to the shop to return her weapon."
"I am speechless," Nicholai pronounced. "I can only wonder if either of you realize how inconsequential your altercation sounds? Why not forget about it, laugh, and start fresh?"
The couple met this suggestion with dark stares.
"Well, I don't really care whether you get along or not, because this arrangement is fixed. Adrienne, I trust that Mr. Essex will guard you with the same zeal he has devoted to your quarrel, and I can assure you that he comes highly recommended. For my part, I am ready to wash my hands of it all. I depart at dawn for home and the arms of my wife—and will leave the pair of you to your sulks and insults."
Nathan Raveneau stole a glance at his headstrong young charge. She might make his blood boil, but at least she wasn't the odd bluestocking he'd expected. Harms Castle might not be a complete bore after all...
* * *
Nearly four miles of masted ships lined the Thames, mimicking a narrow forest from London Bridge to Deptford. Extensive docks had been built on the Isle of Dogs for the convenience of vessels trading in the West Indies, and there rested the splendid Golden Eagle, her sails furled in the late-afternoon sunlight.
Captain Nathan Raveneau stood on the quarterdeck. His eyes took in every detail of the packet he'd acquired only two years before. The clean-lined ship boasted an exceptionally fine, well-trained crew, and it pained
him to consider the prospect of being away for four long months.
Had he been drank to agree to such madness?
Zachary Minter, whose Uncle Halsey had been Andre Raveneau's trusted right hand on board the Black Eagle during the Revolutionary War, approached his old friend.
Zachary and Nathan had shared childhoods, amusing themselves on board ship during pleasure voyages to England and France, and their friendship was more powerful than the boundary of a captain's authority over his first mate.
"I still can't believe you're going to do this thing." Minter drew himself up to his full five-and-a-half feet of skinny strength and shook his head, his red hair agleam. "Can't you just explain that you were in your cups, and—"
"I've already considered doing that, or worse, but the devil of it is that I want Beauvisage's land in Barbados. It'll all be worth it if we can have access to Crowe's Nest." His face wore a familiar expression of impenetrable determination. "I can trust you to see to the ship, can't I, Zach?"
"I never thought I'd live to see the day that you would put any other consideration before the Golden Eagle."
"You tread on thin ice, old friend," Nathan murmured. "I ask you to do my bidding for a mere four months. We'll sail to Barbados when August arrives."
"Your crew wants to sail now."
"And they must wait."
Minter's hair seemed to smolder in the setting sun. "While their heroic captain plays nursemaid to a spoiled chit in the middle of—"
"Be silent," Nathan warned, and pushed a folded note into the other man's freckled hand. "Here is a map Beauvisage obtained for me of the route to Harms Castle, where I must remain until the first day of August. Do not seek me out unless the situation is dire; I will discharge you if you attempt to lure me back with tricks. However, I ask that you come to me if I do not return on time." A smile touched his hard mouth. "I have no idea what to expect. With a spinster and a dowager for company, I feel certain it will be deadly dull, but one never knows."
Zachary Minter shook his head. "I hope that you don't die of boredom, Captain Raveneau. What an ignoble end that would be for the Scapegrace!"
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