Claire Thornton (13 page)

‘Can you land us this side of the Arun, on West Beach?’ Benoît asked crisply.

‘Of course. But he still cannot walk, and no doubt you sent the horses home. Besides—what of the lady?’

‘The lady is more than equal to the situation,’ said Benoît dryly. ‘It’s Adam I’m worried about. Get under way, George, I don’t want to waste time.’

George grunted, then Angelica heard him giving orders to his crew.

Adam dragged in a groaning breath and Benoît dropped on one knee beside him. Angelica joined them, feeling the rough decking beneath her hands.

‘Is he badly hurt?’ she asked anxiously.

‘He took a sword thrust just before they left France,’ Benoît replied curtly. ‘I don’t know the details yet. George, I need some light!’

‘In the cabin. I’ll not have a light showing on this boat tonight.’

They lifted Adam from the deck, and Angelica winced in sympathy as she heard his barely suppressed groan of anguish.

In the cabin light his face was grey and strained, but there was no fresh blood on the rough bandages around his thigh.
His breeches had been slit open and a clean pad pressed over the wound, then strips of cloth had been wrapped around his leg over his breeches. Benoît looked at the dressing carefully, but he didn’t touch it.

‘As long as it hasn’t started bleeding again, we won’t interfere with it,’ he said briskly.

Adam gave a choking laugh. Angelica guessed he was about the same age as Benoît, although the lines of pain on his face made him look older. He was a thin, narrow-chested man, although she suspected he was a great deal tougher than he at first appeared. His eyes were shrewd enough, and he was bearing his discomfort with fortitude.

‘Your father was right, you should have been a sawbones,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to cause so many complications. Although I hadn’t expected such a turnout for my arrival either.’

His eyes rested with open curiosity on Angelica as he spoke. The shawl had fallen back from her hair and the sapphire and diamond comb glinted richly in the lantern light. Her cheeks glowed with fresh colour and her eyes were bright with interest and concern. She didn’t seem in the slightest bit disturbed by the ugly stains on Adam’s leg or the uncertainty of her current situation.

‘Neither did I.’ Benoît smiled faintly as his eyes rested briefly on the glittering comb. ‘Adam, I am sure you will be charmed to meet Lady Angelica Lennard.’

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise and appreciation.

‘Ellewood’s daughter!’ he crowed in delight. ‘Ha! Your sins are finally catching up with you!’

‘As you say.’ Benoît’s smile broadened. ‘My lady, may I present Mr Adam Kennett? If he hadn’t lost the toss sixteen years ago, it would have been him, not me, who waylaid your father that night.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you.’ Angelica held out her hand to Adam without hesitation. ‘I’m so sorry you’re hurt.’

‘I’m sorry to meet you in such uncomfortable circumstances,’ Adam replied ruefully. ‘But this is no place for you. I don’t know what Ben was thinking of to bring you.’

‘He didn’t,’ she said awkwardly, not daring to look at Benoît.

‘She wants me to rescue her brother from Bitche,’ Benoît explained, ‘but she knows too much about my unsavoury past to trust me—so tonight she followed me to see what dark deed I was about to perpetrate. Next time I will know better than to wear a black cravat in her presence!’

Adam stared at Angelica in amazement, then gave a crack of laughter which was cut short by a wincing stab of pain.

‘Serves you right for being such a dandy!’ he said gaspingly. ‘Black cravat indeed! Well done, my lady! He needs taking down a peg or two sometimes—and so far the Lennards seem to be the only people who can do it. I’m
very
glad to meet you.’

Angelica blushed, avoiding Benoît’s eye. Remembering everything that had happened that evening, she wasn’t at all sure that Adam’s enthusiasm was justified.

Adam stirred restlessly, his smile fading as he looked at Benoît.

‘We’ll be at West Beach soon,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Ben, you’ve got to take the news to London. I can’t.’ He hesitated, glancing doubtfully at Angelica.

‘If I didn’t think you could trust her, I wouldn’t have told her your name,’ Benoît replied instantly, taking Angelica completely by surprise.

‘I guessed as much.’ Adam closed his eyes for a moment. His face was pinched and, despite the fillip the unexpected discovery of Angelica’s identity had given him, he was obviously weak and in considerable pain.

‘Bonaparte’s building a battlefleet in the Scheldt,’ he said after a moment. ‘There are ten ships of the line already in service, and more than that number being built at Antwerp and Flushing. I’ve seen them. If they aren’t dealt with, they could pose a threat to England’s security. You must tell the Admiralty, Ben!’

‘I will.’

Angelica had been looking from Adam to Benoît and back again. Excitement, alarm and amazement had all flickered across her face as Adam spoke, but now she fixed her bright, glowing blue eyes on Benoît. He did not seem perturbed by Adam’s news, but she was aware of the coiled, watchful tension which filled him. He was alert and intent on the business on hand, sure of his ability to overcome any obstacles. The black wolf was poised and ready for action.

‘Wait,’ he said briefly. ‘Shield the light.’

He ducked his dark head through the low cabin door and went out on deck. Angelica unshuttered the lantern and looked at Adam. He smiled wryly.

‘I nearly get myself killed bringing that information back, and all he does is snap orders at me,’ he complained. ‘I might have known I wouldn’t get any sympathy.’

He winced, and reached down towards his injured leg.

‘Don’t touch it!’ Angelica said quickly, catching his hand. ‘We don’t want it to start bleeding again.’ She smiled encouragingly at Adam as he let his head fall back wearily on the rough pillow. ‘It will only hurt more if you prod it!’ she pointed out practically.

‘I’m surprised you’re not faint with disgust at the sight of me,’ Adam sighed.

‘I’ve seen worse,’ Angelica replied quietly.

She tried not to think of the frightening picture her father had presented when they’d carried him home from the accident. She’d swallowed her fear and her nausea then because she’d had no choice. The memory had given her a few nightmares, and she never wanted to repeat the experience, but in general she wasn’t squeamish. Adam’s injury caused her anxiety only in so far as it was a danger to him.

She heard Benoît’s footsteps outside and, at his command, she shielded the lantern as he came in. He glanced quickly at Adam, then looked at Angelica.

‘Let me have the jewels,’ he said abruptly. ‘I don’t think Martha intended you to wander round the countryside in them. They’re hardly inconspicuous!’

‘I forgot I was wearing them.’ Angelica took off the earrings and passed them to him, then tried unsuccessfully to disentangle the comb from her hair.

After a moment he gave an impatient exclamation and pushed her hands aside.

‘You have less control over your hair than any woman I have ever met,’ he said in exasperation.

‘Martha put it up!’ Angelica protested, submitting to his hands, but feeling particularly foolish because she knew Adam was watching them, a curious expression on his face.

‘I know she did! Hasn’t it ever
occurred
to you to experiment with a hairbrush for yourself?’ Benoît retorted. ‘There. Now, make sure you don’t let the shawl slip. Ready, Adam?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’ Adam allowed himself to be hoisted up in Benoît’s arms.

Angelica followed them out of the cabin, blinking in the sudden darkness. Now that her eyes had become used to the light, the night seemed even blacker than before. Only the stars twinkled above them. The coastline was nothing but a dark blur beneath the paler sky. She remembered the battery on the east bank of the Arun, its cannon waiting to fire on intruders and she shivered. Were they sailing into an ambush?

‘What if we meet Sir William?’ she asked suddenly. Would the magistrate assume they were smugglers and shoot them on sight if he encountered them?

‘He’s the least of our problems,’ Benoît replied. ‘Stragglers from that disturbed band of Gentlemen would be far more dangerous—but I doubt if they’ll have come this far east.’

Angelica bit her lip at the possibility, but she refused to admit she was nervous.

‘Then we’ll just have to make sure we don’t bump into any,’ she said stoutly.

Adam gave a grunt of painful amusement as Benoît lifted him over the side of the cutter and carried him down into the waiting boat.

‘No one can accuse the lady of being faint-hearted,’ he gasped.

‘By no means,’ Benoît agreed.

‘Good-bye, miss,’ said George, from beside Angelica. ‘I’m sorry I could not offer you more hospitality. Perhaps we’ll meet again under more comfortable circumstances.’

‘I hope so.’

Angelica picked up her skirts and climbed down into the boat, not at all surprised when Benoît caught her firmly around the waist and lifted her the last part of the way. She settled herself beside Adam as the boat surged through the waves. The oarsmen were strong and impatient for their work to be over. It had been an unlucky and unprofitable trip for them, though so far there had been no direct threat to the ship or her crew.

When they reached the beach, Benoît lifted Angelica out of the boat and carried her up onto the sand, wading through the shallow water. Angelica stood on the shore, tying her shawl more firmly under her chin as she looked around nervously. Dawn was still some hours away and the night was as black as ever. She had good evidence now that sometimes
the shadows contained lurking danger, and it was much harder than it had been earlier to control her anxiety.

She strained to hear any unusual sounds, but all she could hear were the waves rolling up the beach and the wind blowing through the sand dunes behind her.

She longed for the comfort of daylight, but she knew that the darkness protected them as well as potential enemies. She turned as Benoît came up the beach towards her.

‘This way,’ he said in a low voice as he reached her side, Adam slung over his shoulder.

Angelica followed him, careful to hold up her skirts as they headed into the dunes. It was hard to walk on the dry, shifting sands but, even burdened with Adam over his shoulder, Benoît was still moving quickly.

The wind blew up gritty, stinging sand in her face and whipped her hair painfully in her eyes. She slipped and fell to her knees, gasping for breath. Then she tied her shawl tighter, scrambled to her feet, and hurried after Benoît. Her skirts were a nightmare of wet, dirty, clinging wool. The wind cut through her riding habit and she no longer had the added warmth of Benoît’s greatcoat.

She stumbled on, praying for the wind to drop, determined not to be left behind, or to force Benoît to wait for her. He had said that she would be equal to this, and she was going to prove him right. He had not asked for her presence on this trip, and she certainly wasn’t going to give him cause to regret it.

The river wasn’t contained between neat, high banks,
and Benoît chose a route which swung quite wide of its main channel, avoiding as far as possible the worst of the marshy ground. Even so, Angelica found herself negotiating several streams of water which ran down into the river. Her skirts, legs and half-boots were soon plastered with mud. She staggered on, tripped over the uneven ground and pitched full-length in the quagmire.

She lay still for a moment, winded and almost grateful for the temporary respite, then pushed herself up onto her knees. She realised that Benoît had paused, and she sensed rather than saw that he was looking back at her. She gritted her teeth and shoved herself back onto her feet. If he could manage the walk burdened as he was by carrying Adam, then she could certainly do it hampered only by her riding skirts.

She caught up with him and they went on, neither speaking a word. She was aware of Adam’s occasional hiss of pain, and knew his situation was far worse than hers.

At last they reached Littlehampton Harbour, and Benoît laid Adam down on the ground.

‘Wait here,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’ve got to find a boat to take us across the river.’

Angelica dropped on her knees beside Adam as Benoît went down cat-cautious to the water’s edge.

The tide was going out; one or two boats were already beached above the waterline, and she could see the masts of ships and fishing boats against the sky as they lay at anchor in the harbour.

Adam drew in a deep, pain-racked breath and Angelica reached out to touch his shoulder comfortingly.

‘It won’t be long now,’ she murmured, ‘and then you can rest.’

Adam gave a sobbing gasp, quickly repressed, that could almost have been a laugh, but he didn’t try to reply. Angelica supported herself on one hand as she pushed his wet hair back from his face, and waited for Benoît to return. She wondered exactly what he had in mind.

He came back very quickly and carried Adam down to a small rowing boat. He lifted Angelica into it and then rowed across the harbour. The fishing boats around them creaked and rattled continuously in the wind, but the oars of the rowing boat dipped almost silently in and out of the choppy water.

Occasionally Angelica saw a faint glint of reflected starlight in the wind-roughened black surface of the river, as Benoît negotiated the anchored vessels. She gripped the side of the rowing boat tensely, wondering whether there were watchmen on board the ships—and whether they would see and challenge the lone boat. But the harbour was dark and apparently devoid of any other human life.

At last the bottom of the boat grated on the shingle and Benoît lifted Adam out. Angelica climbed out before he could help her, uncaring that her skirts were trailing in the water. She was already so wet that it didn’t made much difference; and she was growing sensitive to the fact that Benoît
must be getting tired too, and that she didn’t actually need to be lifted from place to place like a baby.

Benoît put Adam down in the shadows. Angelica knew without being told that once more they must wait for him. She crouched beside Adam, instinctively trying to make herself as small as possible, and wondered how he had been hurt. The French must have discovered he was a spy. Were they following him now?