A Kiss of Lies (39 page)

She handed him the ones she’d retrieved, brushing at the dirt as he grabbed them from her with a glacial look that had her cringing. “Were they important?”

“Yes,” he bit out between clenched teeth. “They were.” He muttered something under his breath.

She caught only a few words but they were enough to make her insides freeze as she reminded herself that this man—whom she no longer thought of as a
gentle
man—was a stranger, and she no longer had to listen to men berate her. She suffered years and years of that with her husband, and while her brothers didn’t treat her harshly, the censorship of her actions was always in their eyes. She wasn’t putting up with any more of that.

She lifted her chin and shot him what she hoped was a haughty glare and not a frightened grimace. “If they are so important, sir, then why weren’t they secured in something safer than
your hands?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. She secretly smiled.
See, Claire, you still have it in you
.

With a growl he turned on his heel and stomped off, leaving her alone in the mass of people. Well. That was entirely ungentlemanly. With sinking dread she stared at the spot where he’d been standing and cursed under her breath. Words she’d heard her brothers say, but which a
lady
would never utter. She didn’t care. The words were appropriate for this situation. That man, that ungentleman, was Sebastian’s long-time friend. And even though they had not seen each other in many years, there was always the possibility that he would recognize her.

Oh, this would not do. Not do at all.

Brushing the dirt from her skirts with only one gloved hand, she desperately looked around for her other glove. When she couldn’t find it, she motioned for Alice to follow her. “Come along, Alice. ’Tis time to board.”

Alice’s eyes rounded in terror. Claire motioned for her again, a bit more impatiently this time. If they didn’t hurry, they would miss the ship and she was determined not to miss this particular ship. “Come, Alice.”

Alice shook her head and took a step back. Claire’s heart thudded. “Alice,” she said in her most imperial voice. “Let us
go
.”

“I can’t …” Suddenly Alice turned on her heel and ran away, back toward the shops lining the street and away from the ship.

“Alice!” Claire took a step after her, then looked back at the ship where already the last of the passengers were boarding. She looked toward where Alice had disappeared but the crowd had swallowed her whole.

Oh, dear.

The bell of the
Abby Dora
began to ring. She needed to be on that ship and away from England
now
. With a heart heavy with apprehension and a little bit of fear, Claire joined the other passengers on the gangplank. Trepidation slowed her steps until she halted, forcing the passengers to move around her with grumbles and irritated looks. She turned to look back at Dover, searching for Alice one last time, her gaze sweeping across the landscape.

She squeezed her fingers together, bunching her skirts as an overpowering need to scurry back down that gangplank seized her. Sebastian would be furious when he discovered her gone
and Betsy still at home.

Shaking off the need to run back to solid ground, Claire straightened her shoulders and continued onto the ship.

Once on board she fought her way to the railing among the crush of the other passengers, but there she found she was alone in her wish to wave good-bye to England.

As the ship’s sails snapped full with the brisk breeze, her gaze moved to the famous white cliffs of Dover, her last sight of England for a very long time. She could hardly believe she was finally here, after so many years of dreaming. After so many years of living under the iron fist of her abusive husband, of the prying eyes of the ton, of the stifling love of her brothers. After long nights of swearing to herself that someday she would escape it all.

And now she had.

*  *  *

Nathan leaned against the railing and watched the lights of Calais bob in time with the ship. Frustration roiled through him. It took only a few hours to sail to Calais from Dover but the ship left England late and they missed the high tide that would have taken them straight to Calais’s shore. Now they were stuck offshore for the night while they waited for the morning tide.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve the letter that changed his world and his beliefs but realized that it was in his cabin, drying, because some damn chit had scattered his papers through the mud. He added
her
to his list of curses and pushed away from the railing to head to his cabin and at least try to sleep.

Damn. He still had to check on Sebastian’s sister. Why the hell he agreed to help Sebastian Addison was beyond him. The bigger question should be why Addison even approached him in the first place. Everyone knew Nathan Ferguson, Lord Blythe, was unreliable. And, of course, he’d proven that again tonight by not searching out Lady Hartford to see if she was faring well on this voyage.

He recalled bits of the conversation he’d had with Addison the morning three days ago when Addison had asked the favor. To be honest, Nathan had still been half in his cups and hadn’t yet gone to bed while most people were nearly finished with their day. The conversation was a blur to him. Addison had told Nathan that Lady Claire was traveling to France with her old
nanny.

It had been her nanny, correct?

Yes, Nathan was sure of it.

“Why would your sister not procure passage on one of your ships?” he’d asked, referring to Nicholas Addison’s company that was fast becoming the biggest shipping company in England and the American colonies.

“She did,” Addison said. “Or rather, I secured passage for her, then I discovered through one of Nicholas’s acquaintances that she went behind my back and made her own plans.”

“Why the devil would she do something like that?” Blythe’s head ached, and the noise from the coffeehouse hadn’t helped.

“Claire is headstrong. She has it in her mind to tour the Continent since she missed out on what she terms ‘an adventure.’ I’m willing to allow her a little freedom but I’m damned if I’ll allow her to go flitting about foreign countries without at least some protection. All I ask is that you watch out for her until she reaches France. I don’t want her falling prey to the con artists and thieves that haunt the docks. She has letters of introduction from me and letters from my bank in the event she needs money. Once she reaches Paris, I suspect she’ll attend balls and do a bit of shopping. Betsy will rein her in if need be, and Betsy has been told to inform me of Claire’s whereabouts and actions.”

“Wait a moment,” Nathan said, a memory coming to him. “Claire. Wasn’t she the one who nearly ran away with that rascal? What was his name? The one who owed nearly everyone money.”

Addison had chuckled but the look around his eyes was strained and guarded. “That was long ago. She’s … Well, that was long ago.” He leaned forward. “I haven’t told Claire that you will be watching out for her and I prefer to keep it that way.”

“I doubt she’d even recognize me, Addison, it’s been forever and a day since we’ve seen each other. But why me?”

Certainly there were more reliable gentlemen on the ship. Nathan was the last person Addison should charge with watching his sister. After all, he was a despot. Society said so and he wasn’t in much of a position to dispute it. Opening his own gaming hell had been his way of thumbing his nose at those who already thought the worst of him—and of ensuring that his mother kept her nose out of his life.

Nathan couldn’t remember what Addison’s answer had been. Neither did he care at that point. In the end, he’d agreed. He was sure Addison probably gave him a description of Claire, but Nathan couldn’t recall. At the time, he remembered a young girl with brown hair who used to follow him and Nicholas about and pester them with questions. Who chattered nonstop until both boys were sorely tempted to toss her in the lake.

Addison assured Nathan that Lady Claire was well chaperoned so maybe it didn’t matter that he’d yet to search her out. Yet his conscience wouldn’t allow him to shirk this duty. He owed it to his friend, the only one who’d stood by him when his life fell apart after his father’s death.

He would locate the captain and discover what cabin Lady Claire was in. In the morning he would make certain she was well taken care of. When they reached Calais, he would ensure that she was safe and then wash his hands of her.

A soft shuffle of feet had him looking to his left and pausing in wonder. There
she
stood. The cheeky minx from the dock. The one who nearly ruined his papers.

Read on for an excerpt from

Samantha Kane’s

The Devil in My Arms

London, September 1819

The sun was setting; dusk casting an ominous shadow over the quiet, residential square. There had been nurses and children in the central park earlier, but they had wandered back to various affluent houses some time ago, for supper she supposed. Eleanor’s stomach rumbled at the thought. She’d run out of money yesterday, and so hadn’t eaten since a greasy meat pasty purchased with her last coins from a disreputable inn along the coach line two days ago.

She kept to the shadows of the alley, tiptoeing along the wall, her side pressed to the brick. The small satchel in her left hand had grown heavy hours ago, but as it contained all her worldly possessions she didn’t dare put it down for fear of losing it if she had to run suddenly. She’d walked around these particular two blocks of London for the better part of three hours. She could see nothing suspicious, but that didn’t mean she was safe.

She bit her lip in indecision. She’d come so far. If she were to fail now, it would kill her. It really would this time. She couldn’t bear being locked in her room again for days upon days, no food or water unless she did as Enderby demanded. She’d worked on this plan for years while she’d endured her husband’s punishments. But no more. She had followed the plan meticulously, waiting the three months she deemed necessary for Enderby to call off his search. Three endless months of hoarding her money, trying to sleep in drafty waterfront inns whose other occupants were as suspicious as she. But the rooms there were always too close, with windows that often wouldn’t open. The night terrors had struck more than once as she woke screaming, imagining being locked in her room back at Enderby’s again. Three months of eating only meager fare, faint with hunger and fear and exhaustion every second.

After all that time, surely he thought her dead. She hadn’t tried to contact Harry at all. She’d learned the hard way that to do so would be a mistake. She didn’t make the same mistakes twice. She was too clever for that. She was. He hadn’t broken her at all. She was still the same. Still smarter than he was, and at last he’d know it.

Finally, her courage bolstered by the very fear and hunger that had nearly laid her low so
many times in the past few months, she ventured out of the alley. There was no hue and cry at her appearance. No one emerged from the shadows to accost her just as she tasted freedom. She kept to the sidewalk, sauntering along as if she hadn’t a care in the world, the boy’s clothes she wore making her almost belligerent shuffle believable. She’d studied the stable boys and grooms and dockworkers; this was their walk, the walk of a lad who owned the world, daring friend and foe alike to knock the chip from his shoulder. She wanted to laugh aloud at what a lie that walk was for her. Her cares were a burden weighing her down, the chip on her shoulder a simmering hatred for the man who had forced her to take such dire measures.

When she reached the walk in front of Harry’s door she casually looked around, pausing to dust off the sleeves of her ratty coat. She was hardly dressed for a visit to one of the elegant mansions in Manchester Square, but she brazened it out. If she could get past the butler she’d find Harry.

She’d just turned up the walk, her eyes glued to the door as if salvation waited beyond it, when a voice spoke from behind her. “Mrs. Enderby, I presume?”

Eleanor spun around with a gasp, her satchel flying from her hand as she reached into her coat and grabbed the cudgel she’d stolen from a drunken sailor on the docks in Lyme Regis. She faced her attacker head-on, hoping a scuffle here would be noticed. She didn’t care if she drew attention now. They’d found her. Her only hope was that Harry could prevent the miscreant from dragging her back to Enderby.

He was tall, his dark-red hair poking out from beneath a beaver hat. He wasn’t as burly as Enderby’s other lackeys. She’d never seen this one before, the better to take her by surprise, damn him. He was well dressed, which seemed discordant somehow with the danger of the situation. He didn’t look belligerent at all, merely mildly amused and relieved, but she was still wary. There was an aura of power about him that made the hair on her nape stand up. He smiled at her then and her mind spun in confusion.

“You shan’t need that, Mrs. Enderby,” he said quietly, pointing at the cudgel with his oversized walking stick. “I am not who you believe me to be.”

“And that’s how you disarm someone who wants to knock your head off?” a voice sneered from behind her. Eleanor backed quickly to the side so she could see them both. The speaker was a young man observing them from several feet away. He had his arms crossed and his feet planted wide, blocking her exit to the street. His casual stance didn’t fool her for a
second. He looked like a scrapper and had the height and weight to take her down, cudgel be damned.

“Wiley, be quiet,” the redhead said, clearly annoyed. “Now you’ve startled her again.”

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” the Wiley fellow said sarcastically. “Maybe she’ll put down the stick and waltz.” He looked at Eleanor then. “He probably isn’t who you think he is, but keep the cudgel just in case.”

The redhead closed his eyes as if in pain. “She could just give it to you, and you could knock my head off. Would that satisfy your need to protect the lady from my dastardly charms?”

“Maybe,” Wiley said, looking thoughtful. “At least it would be a good time for me.” He addressed Eleanor again. “We mean you no harm, he’s not lying about that.”