Edith Layton (22 page)

But she didn’t smile.

“We were about to tear Newgate apart,” he told her seriously, “but luckily the guards there are as greedy as they are dishonest. They spy on each other. One being bribed made it certain that another would listen and try to get some of the money
from him. We were told you’d been sent out with the convicts headed for the hulks. But no one knew which one, because that damned Dearborne had lied even to his associates. The Newgate officials had no record of where you were bound. There’ll be some heads rolling there tomorrow, and I don’t mean those of the condemned,” he added grimly.

“As for the hulks, there are too many of them, and they lie in too many directions. It was only lucky chance that led me to this one and you. I’ll send word to Miles and the others as soon as we’re safely away, because we’ll need all our friends in place to bring this adventure to an end. I don’t want your whereabouts known until all’s safe and settled.”

He frowned. “It’s where that ‘away’ will be that I have to discuss with you now. Things being what they are, with Dearborne still on the loose, I don’t trust random inns. And I don’t want to cause talk by appearing on a stranger’s doorstep. Nor do I want to bring possible danger to a friend. So there’s the question of where we go next. You see, we’re not safe until we alert the authorities, tell them their misplaced role in all of this, and get them to call off their dogs. You were sent to Newgate and listed as an enemy of His Majesty and then you escaped. So there’ll be minions of the law looking for you until they are told to stop. As for the children, I doubt we can ever tell the authorities to stop searching for them, because they are convicted felons.”

“But Taffy only opened a door to let his confederates in,” Camille protested. “He didn’t take a thing. And he’s only eight, Eric! Bill’s barely six, and all he took was a string of sausages. Jake’s—”

“I know,” he said, cutting her off, trying to soothe her. “It’s monstrous. Even if they didn’t tell you the strictest truth, they are only children, whatever they did. But that’s the law. That doesn’t mean we have to return them to its untender mercies, though. Whatever they did, we can give them a second chance. And so the sooner we have them dressed differently, the better. For now, we have to stay off the main roads and find a safe haven from which to send out word to our friends.”

He shook his head. “We can’t go to London, because they’re likely watching all roads to it. You’re innocent, my love, but the plain fact is that a wagonload of convicted prisoners have escaped from His Majesty. That news will stir the authorities. If some of the prisoners remain at liberty, it will be hushed up, but for now, they’ll do all they can to sweep in and collect all of them again, and I can’t rely on them to think before they act. So even if we could get you there, London’s not yet safe. We’re too far from your house in the country too. We can reach my family more easily. Will you come home with me?”

She nodded.

He hated the way she avoided his eyes and worried about her new reticence with him. “We’ll thrill
my parents,” he said, trying to cheer her. She still didn’t smile. If anything, she looked uneasier.

“All right,” he said, making the decision, “that’s where we’ll go. But though it’s closer than your home, we might not be able make it all in one day’s ride. Daylight’s short this time of year, and after your experience you’re bound to be weary by evening. I know a decent and honest inn a few hours from home. I trust its owners completely. I could ride on, but I refuse to leave you there alone. So, Cammie, are you willing to stop for the night with me?”

She gazed at him, obviously puzzled.

“We aren’t married,” he said. “We’re engaged, but no one knows it but us, and I wondered…”

She lowered her head and rested her forehead on his chest. “Oh, lud, Eric,” she sighed. “I’ve been kidnapped and sent to Newgate, terrorized and sent to the hulks. Are you thinking about my reputation? I haven’t one anymore.”

“I’m thinking about you,” he said, putting his hand gently on her back.

She immediately stepped away from him.

“Then let’s go,” she said.

S
he never wanted to get out of the bathtub. It was only a waist-high iron tub that she had a hard time wedging herself into, but the water was hot and the soap was scented, and Camille sat folded in on herself until her fingertips grew white puffy ridges and her toes felt tender. It wasn’t until the water grew chilly that she finally sighed and rose and, shivering, reached for the towel on the chair next to the tub.

The innkeeper had brought the tub to her room immediately. After that, if it turned out that the inn Eric had brought her to had rodents for waiters and food fit for rats, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d longed for a bath all during the long, cold day of
riding to get here, and once she had one, she was content.

But her content faded as slowly but surely as her bath water cooled.

The Hungry Horse was a sturdy old inn off the high road, set back in a spinney surrounded by a long meadow. It had once been a priory or a nunnery or a gentleman’s retreat, or maybe all three—Camille had only half heard the innkeeper’s proud narrative as he’d led her up the narrow stair to her room. She’d been too weary to concentrate or care. It was enough that the place was snug against the increasingly cold night. Her legs ached as she climbed the stairs, and though her bottom was sore from all the day’s riding, she was anxious to sit down again. It had been a miserable, long, anxiety-ridden, uncomfortable ride on a sullen gray winter’s day.

She hadn’t shown her unhappiness, because she didn’t want to discourage the children. But now that the boys had been led off to their own dinner and beds, she could at last relax enough to feel terrible.

Eric hadn’t complained either. He’d ridden as hard as they had, as well as doing sentry duty, watching the roads and fields before he led them across them on their circuitous path to the sanctuary of the old inn.

“I’ll get the boys settled and then send word to Miles and the others,” he told her after he’d had conference with the landlord. He urged her to go to
her room. “You rest. I’ll come tell you when all’s done and set. If you want to sleep, I can tell you in the morning.”

“I won’t sleep until I know,” she’d said, and dragged her aching body up the stair.

“It’s quiet here,” the innkeeper told her as he opened the door for her. “This room faces the fields, not the drive. There’s only the roof above and a storage room beneath, so no one will disturb you in the night.” It was as kind a way as any to tell her that her enemies couldn’t creep up on her unannounced, she thought.

He’d stoked up the fire in the hearth. A tub was dragged up and filled with hot water. Camille threw off her hated gray gown and almost pitched it in the fire before she realized that if she did she’d have nothing to wear when she left the tub. But when a maid came with a last bucket of hot water, she left a dressing gown on the chair along with extra towels.

“The gentleman had this in his saddlebag,” the maid said breathlessly, “and he said as how you should wear it until you get another gown, which’ll be in the morning, seeing as how Mrs. Cutter in town has a regular store of fabrics and gowns to sell. It’s a real shame how the coaching company lost your bags, ma’am, but ain’t that always the way? They charge you the earth and don’t deliver nothing but grief. Believe me, we hear it all here.”

Eric had probably spun a fine tale, Camille thought, as she dried herself in front of the fire,
smiling as she wondered how he’d explained the boys. She picked up his dressing gown. It weighed enough to make her stagger. She couldn’t help smiling as she shook it out. It was the size of a bedspread, of heavy red silk, with a roaring gold dragon coiling over its breast. It wasn’t the sort of thing she’d expect him to wear. He was always well dressed in clothes of a simple military cut. Still, she thought the dressing gown suited him, because he was a vibrant man of substance and unexpected grace.

Camille gratefully slipped her arms into the sleeves and folded it around her. It was much too big, and that felt wonderful. The dressing gown was warm from the fire and smelled of evergreen and spice, just as Eric always did. She cuddled into it and sank to a chair by the fire, careful to keep a towel around her shoulders so that her damp hair wouldn’t get his dressing gown wet.

The room was amazingly comfortable. The inn was old but clean, with furnishings that might have been the original ones. They gave added comfort precisely because of their age and air of good use. It was a large room with two chairs and a table, and a tester bed that took up an entire wall. The bed beckoned to Camille. But she knew that if she so much as sat down to try it out she’d fall asleep in it, and she wanted to talk to Eric. There were some things she had to say before more time had passed. She sat back. Her eyes began to close.

When the knock came at the door, she was wak
ened from a deep and dreamless sleep. She shot upright, momentarily confused and surprised that she’d drifted off. She stumbled to her feet and went to the door. The towel slipped from her shoulders. She went to pull it back and realized her hair was dry, so she must have been asleep a long while.

“Come in!” she called.

“No,” a deep voice said. “That’s not the right answer to a knock on your door.”

“Right, right. You’re right,” she said in embarrassment. “Who is it? is what I should have said, though I know,” she added mutinously, as she opened the door. “And if anyone was after me they wouldn’t knock, would they?”

“The point is that I could have been anyone,” he said. He filled the doorway and had to duck his head to clear the lintel but stopped in his tracks when he saw her tumbled hair, heavy eyes, and flushed face. “But I woke you. I’m sorry, go back to sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, backing out into the hall.

“No, I wanted to be woken!” she cried. “Come in.”

“I was going to invite you to come down to the parlor and join me in some dinner,” he said, his eyes traveling down his dressing gown to her bare feet. “I’d better not. I can lend you a robe or a shirt, but I don’t think you’ll fit in my boots.”

“But I’m hungry!” she wailed.

He laughed. “It doesn’t mean you can’t eat. I’ll have them send up your dinner.”

“Good. Then we can pull a table close to the fire and eat while we talk,” she said, “because I must talk to you.”

“Cammie,” he said, his smile slipping, “we can’t. Or rather, I can’t. I can’t stay up here alone with you.”

“Who else do you want to invite?” she asked. She put her hands on her hips. “Eric, this is nonsense. Are you worried about my reputation? Who will ever know? Besides, even if they did, I told you—I haven’t a shred of reputation left anyway.”

She stood there feet apart, hands on her hips, forgetting, in her agitation, that she hadn’t drawn a belt around his dressing gown. He got a glimpse of a long, shapely leg, and more than a glimpse of high, bountiful breasts. They threatened to spill out of his dressing gown where it was parted at the vee of her neck. The contrast between her smooth, matte white skin and the rich red of the silken robe made him wish to see the rest of her breasts. He wondered if they were tipped with the same carmine hue as the robe or were dusky pink or…

“Cammie,” he said with difficulty, “it’s not about your reputation. It’s about mine.”

“Oh!” she said, seeing the direction of his gaze. “Bother!” She pulled the robe around herself and belted it with such fierce energy he was afraid she’d cut off her circulation. If she thought that would turn the direction of his thoughts, she was wrong, because now the silk outlined her breasts, emphasizing their buoyancy and size.

He sighed.

“Sorry, I’m not used to men’s clothing,” she muttered. “And such a big man at that. You make me feel dainty.” That reminded her of what she had to say, and she scowled. “Still, if I keep myself belted and tucked and tied, I don’t see why you can’t stay. Come off your high horse and sit down with me. What I have to say can’t wait until morning.”

She wanted to add she had to say it before she lost the courage. But brave as she was, she lacked enough courage to say even that.

He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender and came into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. He’d hear her out, then leave. They’d each have to enjoy dinner in solitary splendor. Not because of her reputation, but because of his resolve. She’d never looked more tempting. In ordinary times, that might have been all right. He was an honorable man, or so he hoped, but they were engaged, and even if the world didn’t know it, they did. But he couldn’t forget that she’d had a long and terrifying night and day and she was acting differently toward him. He couldn’t impose on her after her harrowing experience. He was too worried about what it had been.

“All right,” he said, settling into the other chair by the hearth. “Sit and speak.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Sit and speak? Am I a dog?”

“Forgive me, I’m tired,” he said, passing a hand over his eyes. “All right, I’ll speak first: Woof.”

She giggled.

He was pleased he’d defused the situation. “Sit, sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his. “The boys are bathed,” he reported as she sat. “That’s why I’m so late. The objections were fierce. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them up here. In fact, I thought half the lamentations were coming from the fleas we evicted, they were that high-pitched. But eventually the protests ended. I gave them dinner, found them beds in a snug room near the kitchens, and now all the lads are clean and fed, and even our chief rogue, Taffy, is fast asleep.”

His expression grew sober. “Lord! They’re only children but they’ve lived harder lives than campaigning soldiers. But I can report that we may only have to travel on with three of them. Not because I drowned the other two, though it was a tempting thought.” He smiled at her smile and went on, “But those two expressed interest in staying on here with our landlord. He’s a good fellow who needs a pair of likely lads, and they like him. Innkeeping would be a fine trade for them to learn and a good life for them. Taffy and the others will come along to my parents’ house. So. Now. Your turn. What is it that you had to talk to me about?”

He didn’t expect his question to cause such a vivid response. Her color rose to match the dressing gown. She lowered her gaze and absently picked at a stray coiling thread on a dragon’s scale. Eric noted it was very near the tip of an ample breast. He shifted in his seat and tried to look away.

“Eric,” she said.

“My name,” he agreed.

“Look,” she said in the forthright way he remembered, the way she’d won his heart, “I’ve thought this out. You asked me to marry you and I jumped at the chance. But things have happened since. And so I think I must release you from your agreement with me.”

His heart grew cold. “Agreement?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “Seems to me a proposal of a life together is much more than that. Seems to me you once thought so too.” He leaned forward, keeping his hands clasped hard together so he couldn’t reach out and hold her close as he longed to do. “Cammie. What happened? And why should you think that whatever it was would matter to me? Except of course it would hurt me if it hurt you. But it would be the past, and it’s our future I’m thinking of. I think you should be too.”

“I am.” She cleared her throat but didn’t go on.

“Whatever it is, it’s damned hard, isn’t it?” he murmured. “But it’s just me here. Can’t you say it?”

She rose in one swift movement and gave him a jerky nod. “Yes. But I think better on my feet.”

And that would take her further from him, he thought sadly, watching as she turned to pace, head down. It nearly broke his heart. He loved her because she was valiant and direct. Another woman might be weeping and shrinking away from him now instead of facing the problem. As for what that was, he feared the worst. His hands closed to
fists. Who had harmed or shamed his brave girl? He’d kill them of course, but that wouldn’t help her now. Only he could do that. He rose to his feet as well.

“Cammie, whatever they did to you doesn’t matter to me. Men can be harmed in captivity too. They can be molested. Prisoners of war know that may happen, and yet they expect their wives and sweethearts to welcome them back into their arms, because they know that what happens to the body without consent of the soul in that body is nothing, and—”

“Good Lord!” she said, stopping in her tracks. “I wasn’t raped! Not that Dearborne didn’t promise that I would be, but no one touched me except to cuff me to shut me up or to chain me to keep me in place.” Her voice grew lower, her gaze dropped to the floor again. “Actually, that’s just the point.”

He was so incredibly relieved at her answer that it took him a minute to understand all she said. “What then?” he asked when he did. “What are you talking about?”

She raised her chin. “Dearborne didn’t want any part of me, literally. He told Nell not to be jealous of his being interested in me that way, because though I was a ‘fine healthy creature,’ he didn’t care to ride ‘b-b-big brown mares.’” She was shamed by her stammering, took another breath, and went on, “He said he liked a filly with more thoroughbred lines. He also said that I was a great gawky, ugly drab.”

She remembered every word Dearborne had said, the accents in which he’d said them, and the expression he’d worn as he had. They were etched in acid in her memory. She also remembered he’d said Eric had wanted her only because of her fortune and his friendship with her brother. The one she knew wasn’t true; the other was a thing she’d been thinking about since she’d heard it. It was why she was saying this now.

“Dearborne wasn’t the only one,” she reported with difficulty. “There was a guard at Newgate who wanted time alone with me because he said I was clean and looked healthy as a horse. Well, so I am. Ironic that we landed here at the Hungry Horse tonight, isn’t it?” she asked with a poor attempt at a chuckle.

She squared her shoulders. “Other fellows have offered for me, of course. Because I was a friend and they felt comfortable with me. I can understand that. But I don’t know why you offered for me, Eric, because you’re so much more than any of them were. My adventures have convinced me that whatever your reasons, they were all the wrong ones. I
am
a great horse of a girl. Plain as a pikestaff, and yes, almost as tall as one. And you? You’re…you are…” She hesitated. How to tell him how big and golden and magnificent he was? She didn’t know, so she told him just that, and added, “Any woman would want you, most that I have seen do. Miles is your friend, and you can’t
have helped seeing how I felt about you. We get on together, true. But that’s no reason to marry me.”