The Hired Hero (16 page)

  Jeremy looked thoughtful, then shrugged and changed the subject. “What shall you do?”

 “I mean to think on it—but not on an empty stomach. Forgive me if I seem rude, but may I ask for a tray to be sent up to my room? I need some time by myself to sort things out.”

* * * *

It was finally quiet throughout the house. Jeremy had lately been settled in a room down the corridor with the admonition to get some rest. The earl was apparently nursing his wounds, physical and otherwise, with the bottle within the confines of his own chamber. After sending Cook herself up with enough food to last for days, Lady Helen had stopped by briefly to ask if there was anything she could do, but Caroline had assured her that all was fine for the moment.

A short while later, a small package was delivered to her room by one of the maids. The purse was reassuringly heavy, noted Caroline, as she stood by her window and watched Lady Helen walk off with the gardener to confer on what was to be done with a bower of overgrown roses. At least one worry was taken care of, judging by the glint of gold, as she slipped the bulging leather into her jacket pocket.

A cursory look showed that the hallway was empty. Caroline wrapped a portion of the remaining food in a large napkin, then debated on whether to leave any sort of note. What possible scribble could adequately convey her feelings? Better to leave things unsaid rather than said badly. She trusted they would understand. Later, she would make amends for her actions.

 If there was a later.

She hesitated only a fraction before the earl’s door before moving resolutely on, down the stairs and out the french doors of the music room. A gravel path, bordered by tall privet hedges, led through a formal garden and down towards the cove. She had to slow her steps as it changed to a mere trail through rocks and gnarled roots. But the way was clear enough and soon, just as Lady Helen had described, she spied a small craft tied up to a narrow wooden jetty.

 As she came closer, Caroline surveyed it with mounting satisfaction. It was obviously tended with care.  The rigging was taut and showed no signs of wear, the hull looked well caulked and the sail was neatly furled around the varnished spar.  She had sailed on numerous occasions with her cousin in a boat similar to this one, though never by herself. Still, she had little doubt as to whether she could handle it on her own....

“Ah, I had expected you a trifle sooner.”

 Mouth agape, she spun around at the sound of the familiar baritone.

 Davenport was lounging against a stack of wooden crates. He eyed the bulging napkin tucked under her arm. “Stopped for nuncheon, I see. But you should have inquired as to the tide. There is little time to spare.”

By now her jaw had assumed its proper place. “What are you doing here?”

“Really now, I’ve come to expect more rational questions from you. I, too, have  an engagement in London, if you will recall.”

 “You are foxed!”

  He held the bottle up to the light and made a show of gauging its contents. “I must be, to contemplate doing what I’m doing.  And in all fairness, an extended time in your company could drive even a saint to drink.”

“I’m not taking you with me! I thought I made that clear.”

  He rose and shoved the bottle in his pocket. “As for you taking me—well, I suppose we might see who would prevail in a battle for the boat, but I daresay we can’t afford to squabble.” He began casting off the lines. “If you have any nautical sense whatsoever, you will mark those clouds to the east and take my meaning.” Jumping lightly onto the deck, he turned to her.

“Well, are you coming?”

The gentleman’s patience was nearing an end. The ebony walking stick drummed with a rising degree of force against the side of his immaculately polished boot. He recrossed his legs, then flicked at a minute speck of dust sullying the sleeve of his coat. Finally, there was the sound of footsteps approaching the carriage and the curtained door was opened a fraction.

He regarded the face that appeared with a look of disgust. “Have you managed to discover anything useful?”

 The other man touched nervously at his mottled nose as he shook his head. “No, my lord. Still no sign. But they can’t have disappeared into thin air. Someone will spot them soon.” He cleared his throat. “The only thing out of the ordinary is a gig has been reported as missing, but I have word that it was seen heading southwest, in the direction of New Milton or Lymington. Do you wish...”

 The point of the walking stick pushed the man back a step. “Drive on to the next inn, you fool,” snarled the gentleman.

 As the coach sprang forward, he sunk back against the squabs and considered what to do. Even with the considerable raise in reward, none of his informants had been able to ferret out the whereabouts of the damnable chit. A visit to the rooms of Mr. Leighton had turned up signs that she had been there, but it had proved fruitless in determining where she might have gone.

His hand came up to stroke his smoothly shaven chin. If she didn’t turn up in the next hour or two, he couldn’t afford to chase about any longer. He had an alternative, of course. He always did. The stick began to rise and fall again. He had hoped to avoid it putting it into action—admittedly, the risk was far greater. But at least it would leave nothing to chance.

* * * *

The waves began kicking up into whitecaps as soon as they left the shelter of the cove. Low, scudding clouds darkened the horizon around the Isle of Wight, hinting at a stiffening wind and perhaps some rain.

 “Can you take the tiller for a moment?” called Davenport a s he surveyed the spread of canvas. “I think it might be wise to put a reef in the mainsail, just to be safe.”

 Caroline moved from where she had just finished belaying the jib sheet to take over the steering. The earl watched her movements with grudging approval. “It’s a good thing you were not exaggerating your experience in a boat. I fear we are in for a bit of a blow.”

She squinted at the craggy shoreline. “Are there any charts below? How shall we navigate to Portsmouth?”

“If we stay within sight of land, it will not be a problem. But if we can’t make it by dusk, it would be best to put up somewhere for the night.”

A frown creased her features. “Why don’t we leave the sail as it is, then? We shall make better time.”

She stood straight up at the stern, head tilted back, chin thrust forward  into the teeth of the oncoming weather. The wind was blowing straight in her face, and her hair, which she hadn’t bothered to pin back under the man’s cap as yet, streamed out past her shoulders like the flying colors of naval frigate. Flecks of spray clung to her cheeks, and her eyes had a dogged sparkle to them not due entirely to the beads of water. In response to a sudden gust, her hand instinctively eased up on the tiller so the boat did not lose way. Davenport found himself grinning in spite of himself—she looked every bit as resolute as a post captain at the helm of a ship of the line.

“It may get wet,” he warned, for already the lee rail was nearly buried in the foaming water.

“I’d rather be wet than delayed yet again.”

“Very well.” And he took another turn of the mainsheet.

A few hours later, Caroline was close to regretting her words. Not only was she soaked with spray but the temperature had dropped considerably so she was chilled to the bone as well. Her bare fingers were so stiff they could scarcely manage to work the lines that the earl had sent her scrambling to loosen, and the combination of salt and rough hemp had rubbed them raw. Still, she voiced no complaint. They were fairly flying across the churning sea. Surely Portsmouth could not be far off.

“Are you all right?”

 Her jaw wouldn’t seem to obey her command to speak. The words came out as a mere croak.

Davenport motioned for her to return to the shelter of the cockpit. She crawled awkwardly back across the slick deck and took a seat beside him. At the sight of her shivering limbs, his mouth compressed in a tight line, but just as he was beginning to speak, a sudden squall caught them from astern. The force of the wind knocked the mast nearly horizontal with the churning seas, sending Caroline  sprawling towards the lee gunwale. Only the earl’s strong grasp saved her from disappearing beneath the foaming waters. As it was, her left side was soaked to the skin, setting her teeth to chattering uncontrollably.

Just as suddenly, the wind died, the sky took on a less ominous hue and the seas became calmer. Davenport threw a leg over the tiller to keep on course then took Caroline’s hands between his and began chafing them. She closed her eyes as the warmth started to seep back into her extremities. Without quite knowing how it happened, when she opened her eyes she found her head was settling on his shoulder.

“Oh!” She straightened and made a show of brushing the hair back from her cheeks. “Sorry.”

He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“No, please. You’ll catch a chill yourself, sir.”

 “Nay, the wind has dropped.”

 He noted that she was still shivering slightly and his arm stole around her and pulled her closer. As he did, there was the muffled clink against the varnished wood. He reached into the pocket of  the outer garment and extracted the bottle of brandy.

 “Here, a swallow of this will help warm you.”

 She looked askance, first at the bottle and then at him. “I’m not sure if that is a good idea, my lord. The last time was not a pleasant experience—for either of us.”

Davenport chuckled. “I shall refrain from pouring half the bottle down your throat in this instance.” He took a swig himself and then held it out to her.

After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted and tentatively let a small taste  pass her lips. A sharp cough nearly sent it back from where it came. Her face puckered. “It does set fire to your innards, does it not,” she muttered as she passed the bottle back.

The earl merely grunted and placed it back in her hands.

 The second sip was not nearly so bad. In fact, she decided that, like so many other things, brandy was something rather nice that men had conspired to keep to themselves. A pleasant tingling began to replace the numbing cold in her limbs. She sighed and slumped even more heavily against the solid warmth of the earl’s body. A smile drifted to her face as she listened to the wind in the rigging and the rush of water against the hull. “What a sail—it was quite exhilarating, was it not?”

 He chuckled again. “Does nothing dampen your spirits?”

 She grinned as drops of spray beaded on her face and shimmered in her hair. “Every other part of me seems to be soaked, but my spirit? I’m afraid I’m a bit like a dog with a bone in his teeth on that regard. I don’t give up very easily.”

 His mouth quirked slightly. “So I have seen. But at least you will allow that it was not such a bad idea in consenting to let me come along for the ride. You might have landed in the suds—quite literally— had you attempted this on your own.”

She colored. “ I am not such a slowtop as to think I could have managed as well by myself, sir. I didn’t want you to come not because I would prefer to be alone but rather because I didn’t want to put you in danger any longer—you were nearly killed last night on my account and I cannot...I won’t allow it.”

Davenport shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The idea that she was thinking of his welfare caught him off guard. “I’m being well paid for it, remember?” he said gruffly. “It is in my own best interest to see you reach London—I have desperate need of that money.”

“I see.” Her voice changed imperceptibly. “Well, rest assured that when we land, you may take yourself off and I shall still send you the full amount. You have certainly earned it.”

He cursed inwardly at his own clumsiness. “I didn’t mean—” He cut off his words with an exasperated shake of his head. “You know, you are quite unlike any female I have ever met before.”

Her expression became unreadable. “Yes, I suppose lack the delicate sensibilities that those of my sex are supposed to exhibit in order to please society and attract a gentleman. I’m afraid I’ve never been very good at falling in a faint or succumbing to a fit of vapors when trouble arises. No doubt that is one of the reasons I shall have little luck in finding a...” She stopped short. “Well, it is one of the reasons my cousin has pronounced me an incorrigible hoyden.”

Davenport mulled over her words while taking another drink. He found his curiosity was piqued for he thought he had finally discerned the root of her troubles. “You speak frequently of this cousin of yours. Were you forced into a marriage you didn’t want? Is it he you are in love with, rather than your husband? Is that who you are fleeing to?”

“I should be well glad if Luc—if my cousin is in London, but I fear he won’t be.” Her expression turned contemplative as she studied her hands for the longest while. The earl had just about decided that no further words would be forthcoming when she spoke again. 

“As for being in love with him—of course I love him. He has been like an older brother to me throughout our childhood. But I cannot imagine having anything but sisterly affection for him. Certainly not to the sort of love you are referring to.”

“Who are you running to, then? And who are you running from?”

She didn’t answer time. Instead, her eyes seem to seek out a point way off on the horizon. He remained silent as well, the tight line of his mouth the only indication of his less than sunny mood. His left hand took over the steering again, while the right one set to helping the brandy disappear at a good clip. On nearing the bottom of the bottle he offered her a final shot.

“Well, here’s to both of us making it to London in one piece—with the way things have been going I suppose the outcome is still very much in doubt.”

 Caroline roused herself from her reverie and downed a goodly mouthful. “Oh, I don’t doubt it at all,” she said. Then she promptly fell asleep against his shoulder.

His mouth softened into a grudging smile. He had meant what he had said—she was truly unlike any other female of his acquaintance. Such was her spirit and her pluck that he imagined most people would fail to notice an unmistakable vulnerability about her as well, despite her show of bravado. A glance down at her face, unguarded in repose, showed a bewitching mixture of strength and need. One thing was certain. She was utterly wrong about what was all that attracted a gentleman’s attention....