Lady Scandal (26 page)

She gave Diana's hand a squeeze, before she
let go and stepped closer to Paxten.
She glanced at the soldiers
around him.
"Your captain said I might have a word in private with
Mr.
Marsett."

They stared at her.
Oh, why could not these
Frenchmen speak at least a little English!

Captain Taliaris said something to them, his
French so fast that Alexandria understood none of it, and the
soldiers moved away.

She glanced at Paxten.
"We do not have
long."

He smiled.
"I wish I could hold you, but
they've tied my hands."

Her expressions tensed, and Paxten wished he
had not said anything.
"Go back to the inn and close your ears and
forget you ever knew me."

She shook her head.
"I cannot.
But I—" she
stepped closer, and whispered, her tone urgent, "The boat we were
to take, it must be in view.
And I thought, well, with your daring
and my planning, we must be able to make our escape.
Diana is ready
for anything, you know."

Frowning, he stepped back from her.
"Go.
There is nothing more to be done.
It's too dangerous for you to
even be here now."

She glanced over her shoulder.
Diana stood
between the captain and them, and she hoped their words would not
carry on the breeze drifting in from the sea.
She looked back at
Paxten.
"How can you ask that of me?"

"I can ask because I love you enough at last
to let you go from my life.
I did not have that before.
Before,
with me, it was all my wanting.
It was, God help me, pride and
lust.
And I hated that another man had you."

He looked away.
The sea
breeze lifted a lock of his dark hair, fluttering it.
He looked
back at her, his eyes bright, a smile curving his lips.
"
Ma chére
, I
probably would not have been a good husband, anyway.
Let us end
with the memory of last night between us.
That at least was good.
That was love."

Her vision blurred.
"I love you, Paxten.
I
always have."

"Ah,
ma chére
, don't make this harder for
us."

"Hard?
This is not hard.
Hard is to be
without you.
Hard is to wake in the morning without you there.
Hard
is to not feel your warmth.
Not to be able to press my head to your
chest and hear your heart beating.
Hard is to never again argue
with you, or never hear you laugh.
That's all impossibly hard."

"No,
ma chére
.
You have done it before.
You can do it again.
You have a good life."

"Yes, I have done it, but not without
regrets.
Too many regrets.
And I want a better life than my old
one.
I want one with you.
But if you will not at least attempt to
go with me, then I shall stay."

He frowned then.
"Stay?
What do you
mean?"

She linked her arm through his.
"I mean just
that.
I shall stay with you—no matter what."

"No.
Do not be silly.
You cannot." He turned
and called out to the captain, "We are done.
Please, take her back
inside.
She should not have to see this."

Alexandria tightened her hold on him.
The
wetness brimmed over her eyes, but the fear faded.
As did the
regret.
"We found each other again last night, Paxten.
I shall not
let go of that.
Nor of you."

She glanced at Captain Taliaris.
He stood
still a moment, and gestured for his men to advance.
Alexandria
stiffened and looked at Diana.
"He will not go with us.
It is over
it seems.
My dear, I never meant to drag you into such an utter
disaster."

Diana's forehead tightened.
She glanced at
the soldiers, her lips thinning.
She shook her head, and said, her
voice only a little high and tense, "Nonsense.
This is quite the
best experience of my life.
And is my privilege to be with you.
And
to do all I can for you."

She turned and took the poker out from under
her skirts where she had hidden it.
She brandished the length of
iron before her like a sword, shouting, "Well, come on.
Let's see
who among you have courage enough to take on a real
Englishwoman!"

Paxten swore.
He glanced down at Alexandria,
and at the captain who now strode towards them.
And he gave up.

With a twist of his arms, Paxten freed
himself from the ropes.
His tensed muscles earlier had forced a
looser knot—an old trick he had learned from a magician in Genoa,
and one that still worked.
Pushing Alexandria towards the docks, he
shouted, "Go.
This time, please God, go!"

She staggered a step and stopped.

Paxten swore.
Taliaris shouted to his men
and they closed.
Diana swung at soldier while another man grabbed
her about the waist from behind, lifting her from her feet.
Two
more soldiers grabbed Alexandria.

Red heat flared in Paxten.

He slammed a fist into one man's windpipe
and the fellow went down gasping.
The other let go of Alexandria
and turned on Paxten with a grin.
"Eh, come on you
half-English—"

The rest of the man's curse ended in a grunt
as Paxten's knee connected with soft groin muscles.
Red-faced, the
man crumpled.
Paxten looked up to see muskets trained on him, but
Taliaris shouted, "Hold fire!
Hold until you pull the women
out."

Alexandria glanced at Paxten.
"You see, I am
of some use."

He swore, and slammed a fist into the
kidneys of the man holding Diana.
The soldier dropped her and swung
around, teeth bared.
Diana's poker caught him on the back of the
knees, dropping him.

Crouching into a fighting stance, Paxten
turned again.
Six men had dropped their muskets and now closed on
them.
Not good odds.
Not even when he had been in his prime.

He glanced at Diana, now standing over the
fallen soldiers like a modern-day Boadicea, at Alexandria,
pale-faced next to him, but looking determined to keep herself
between him and harm.

How had it ever come to this?

Desperate, he looked to Taliaris.
There had
to be some other way to resolve this—to get Alexandria and Diana
out without their being harmed?

His hopes dropped at the clatter of steel
horseshoes on cobblestones.
Two columns of cavalry galloped down to
the dock, coming out of the pre-dawn stillness like devils out of
hell's gates.
Dropping his hands, Paxten straightened.

The new troops drew rein, falling into
attention, and behind them rumbled a black carriage drawn by a team
of six steaming, dark bays.
Harness rattled and the coachman slowed
the team to a halt.

At this new arrival, the soldiers on the
quay turned.
Paxten watched.
Of all things, the officer who a
moment ago had been intent only on his prisoners now shouted orders
for his men to fall in to attention.

Alexandria edged closer to him.
"What is
it?"

He frowned, and said, "I
think it is more a who is it—the commander at Dieppe perhaps?" He
took her hand and looked down at her.
He flicked his thumb across
the corner of her mouth.
"Ah,
ma
chére
, it has been a good fight.
But it's
done.
You can't fight all of that."

He gestured to the troops now lining the
quay, their horses hot from galloping, and tossing their heads, the
soldiers' eyes forward and alert, and the faces under the plumed
shakos rigid masks.

Alexandria's shoulders slumped.
She glanced
at her niece.
"Dear, a poker will not do.
Not any longer."

Nodding, Diana allowed the iron to clatter
to the cobblestones.
She came to her aunt's side, her hands shaking
but her chin up and her face composed.

And Paxten muttered, his voice low and
rough, "Mother Mary, it is worse than I thought."

Alexandria looked up at him, but Paxten
could only gesture to the coach.

At first, she only saw a small man in a dark
greatcoat.
He stood beside the carriage, a black bicorn on his head
and his glance sweeping his surroundings as if to take in
everything in an instant.
His plain clothes—dark coat, white
waistcoat, breeches and cravat, and low-cut, black boots—seemed
that of a merchant.
He stood no taller than any man, but he had not
the air of a merchant.
Without effort, he dominated the scene.

He turned to stare at them and Alexandria's
heart skipped.
She recognized that swarthy, heavy face with the
burning, dark eyes.
She let out a breath.
"The First Consul.
It's
Bonaparte!"

She had met him once, and only briefly at
Lord Whitworth's embassy ball.
Now she hoped Bonaparte would
remember nothing of that occasion, though he was noted for his
quickness of mind.
However, she looked far different now, in her
gray satin, her hair tousled and her bare feet dirty.

She glanced toward the captain, but she saw
that despite his focus on the First Consul's arrival, he had not
entirely forgotten Paxten.
He had two men to face them, muskets at
the ready.
The rest he put at full attention, arms presented.

From the column of mounted officers,
Bonaparte gestured to one man.
The fellow wheeled his horse from
the others and trotted forward.
Bonaparte said something to him.
The man nodded, spun his mount again, spurring the horse to a
gallop and plunging to a halt before Taliaris.

Alexandria found it difficult to watch
anyone but the First Consul.
He exuded power, and quick
intelligence.
Had he always done so?
Or had his rapid rise from the
ranks of the Republic Army given him such an aura.
She could not
admire the man, but she found him fascinating.
What could he want
here, of all places?

She leaned to Paxten.
"Dare we attempt a
departure?"

Paxten glanced at Taliaris, now conferring
with the officer sent to him by Bonaparte.
He glanced at the ships
behind them.
One vessel seemed to be raising its sails and making
ready to draw anchor.
He looked at the soldiers set to watch them
and shook his head.

Frustration welling, Alexandria glanced back
to Bonaparte.
He had turned to his carriage and now helped out a
woman—a lovely woman who smiled at him and laughed at something he
said.
The woman carried a small, white dog in her arms.

Alexandria's jaw slacked and shock rippled
through her.
"Paxten, is that—is that not—?"

"Madam D'Aeth.
Well, well, I wonder what
battle her husband, the general, has been sent off to fight and die
in for the First Consul and for France, so that he will not be
inconvenient, and madam's bed might be open to the First Consul as
well?"

They turned and watched as Taliaris strode
forward to meet the man who had fought his path to ruling
France.

Taliaris gave a stiff salute to the First
Consul.
He towered above Bonaparte, but he had no illusions as to
who held command.
He also kept his stare away from the woman who
hovered in the background behind Bonaparte.
He had recognized her
at once, and he was not certain how to now act.

Bright, dark eyes fixed on Taliaris.
"I came
to inspect my ports—but what am I inspecting here?"

"General, sir, we—that is I—"

He could not help it.
He glanced at Madam
D'Aeth and stuttered into silence.
How did he explain he was
avenging General D'Aeth for the dishonor of his wife without
implying that the First Consul now also dishonored this woman?

Taliaris's cravat tightened and he drew in a
ragged breath, his thoughts turning fast.
Yes, he could mention
rape.
And an Englishman.
He straightened.
"I am here under orders
from General D'Aeth."

There—that was an honest answer.

His expression bored, Bonaparte looked away,
studying instead the harbor and the cliffs above it.
"You are no
longer under his command.
General D'Aeth is posted to Santo
Domingo."

Glancing at Madam D'Aeth, Taliaris searched
her pretty face for a glimmer of regret or sadness.
If she had
shown any, he would have spoken.
Instead, she bent to the little
dog she held in her arms and cooed something at it.

He clenched his teeth.
His mouth dried to
ashes.
He had been defending nothing.
Nothing!
The English girl had
been right, this woman had used her husband, and now she used
France.
Why she had taken a dislike to Marsett no longer mattered.
But he knew now that she had not even the decency to worry for her
husband.
Nor had she interest, it seemed, in her own honor.

He had, however, seen real valor and love in
the last few moments.
His duty lay clear.
He saluted the First
Consul.
"Sir, your permission to finish matters here?"

Bonaparte turned, smiled at the woman,
petted her dog, and turned back.
"Do so.
And then I wish a tour of
the harbor.
I want to know how many men could we station on the
bluffs—and how deep is this harbor.
Well?
Why do you still stand
here?"

Clicking his heels, Taliaris snapped a
salute.
He turned and strode back to the quay.

Marsett, Lady Sandal and Miss Edgcot watched
him, tense and wary.

Taliaris strode past his men and stopped
before them.
"By order of the First Consul I am no longer under
orders from General D'Aeth." He stepped nearer to them, and added
in English, "I recommend you take advantage of that before the
First Consul takes an interest in you and gives me new orders."

Turning, he barked commands to dismiss his
troops.
They glanced at him, and fell out, glancing at each other
and back at Marsett, puzzled and glowering.
But they went.

Taliaris glanced at the English again.
"Why
are you still here?"

Paxten took Alexandria's
hand.
"We are gone already." He started with her for the docks, but
she dragged at him until he had to stop.
"Come,
ma chére
.
The tide will not wait.
We
cannot lose this chance!"

Alexandria turned to him.
"But Diana?"

Looking back, he saw the girl still standing
in front of the captain.
And he cursed.

Taliaris frowned at the girl.
"Well?
Why do
you not leave?
Is this not what you want?"

Diana nodded.
"I—well, I thought someone
ought to thank you.
So...well, thank you."

"You English have no sense!
Go—before I
change my mind."

She smiled.
"As if you would.
You are a man
of honor, I see.
That is a rare thing.
I hope you never allow the
world to take that from you."

His frown deepened, but he said nothing.

She glanced towards the First Consul's
carriage, and looked again at the captain.
Bitterness lay in his
eyes.
She wanted to ease that from him.
And so she said, the words
pouring out in a rush, "There are women of honor as well.
Please do
not forget that."

The hard look eased from his eyes.
"I know.
Now hurry!
The tide turns for you."

Smiling at him, she started to walk away.
But she thought of her aunt and Mr.
Marsett and of regrets for
things not done.
Stopping, she glanced back.

Without another thought, she ran to him and
threw herself at him, letting him catch her, knowing he would.
Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him.
Kissed him because
she wanted to.
Because she had felt cheated earlier of his lips.
Because...oh, just because.

He tasted of salt from the air and something
else that settled inside her.
He held her tight for a moment before
he put her on her feet and pushed her away.

Her smile widened.
"This war cannot last
forever.
And I live in Surrey.
In Wellings.
At Edgcot Place.
And...well, I want you to know, a man of true honor is worth any
wait."

He shook his head and
started to speak, but she said first, "Yes, I know—go!
Adieu, mon cher
."

She turned and ran from
him, but she thought she heard behind her a low, rough
adieu
.

Mr.
Marsett had a flurry of French with
which to scold her, and Aunt grabbed her hand and would not let go.
They ran for the dock, and Paxten herded them into a rowboat,
almost throwing them in.

Diana did not notice.
She watched the quay
and a tall figure in a uniform.
And she wondered if something
things were fated?
Such as her aunt and Mr.
Marsett.
Or was it all
a matter of luck?

She turned away from the shore to find a
fishing boat bobbing on the gray waters of the Channel before them.
Glaring at it, she muttered, "I thought we would have a proper
ship!"

Alexandria laughed.
She glanced at the
disappointment on her niece's face and her last worry faded.
She
had wondered for a moment if perhaps Diana had conceived a
too-sudden and too-rash attachment to that rather handsome captain.
But now she relaxed.
Diana was young yet.
She wanted adventure.
This had to be just another part of it.

Paxten hailed the boat and soon enough a
rope ladder fell over the side of the single-masted vessel.
They
climbed up the ladder, the two boats swaying, falling and lifting
with the swells of the ocean.
Alexandria's stomach dipped at each
lurch, but at last she stood on the deck, Paxten and Diana with
her.

The captain of the boat—a fat fellow with
dark eyes and black hair worn slicked back—eyed them and said
something to Paxten.
Alexandria did not understand his words, but
she could not mistake his meaning.
She glanced at Paxten, almost
ready to cry now, and muttered, "Heavens—the jewels!
We have no
payment!"

Diana turned away and seemed to pull
something from her bodice.
With a smile and a curtsey, she handed a
ruby necklace, bracelet and earrings set in gold to the captain.
The man held up the stones, squinted at them.
He grinned broadly at
last, and flourished gestures of welcome and for them to make
themselves comfortable.

Alexandria stared at her niece.
Diana
smiled, lifted her shoulders in a too-Gaelic shrug, and explained,
"I thought it best to go back for them before we left the inn this
morning."

With a grin, Paxten swept
the girl into a hug.
He lifted her off her feet, realized he should
not have for pain jabbed his side, but he spun her about anyway.
"You,
ma fille
,
can have whatever you wish to ask of me."

"You may stop calling me your girl.
I shall
not be a girl forever.
In fact, I think I very much have stopped
being a girl on this trip and I ought to merit more consideration.
Should I not, Aunt?"

"Yes, dear.
Now would you care to go and sit
someplace and watch the waves or some such thing?"

Paxten watched the girl glance from her aunt
to him, and realize the hint.
"Oh, yes.
Yes, I shall see if one of
the sailors will teach me to make knots."

She took herself off.

Paxten took Alexandria's arm and led her to
the bow of the boat.
Waves broke in white crests below them.
The
wind, sharp and crisp from the sea, blew stinging droplets from the
ocean against them.
To the right, the sun edged a crescent of
orange glow above the horizon.

Alexandria stood with one hand pressed to
her stomach.

He took her hand.
"Ah, no sickness allowed.
Trust me—stay on the deck and you'll not have your stomach turning
up on you."

She wrapped her arms around herself.
"I
shall freeze, however."

Standing behind her, he
wrapped his arms over hers.
"That is what I am for,
ma chére
."

Leaning against him, she smiled.
"Is it done?
Really done?
Are we safe?"

"We are, unless we shipwreck, or pirates attack, or
we are boarded by an English frigate and taken for French
spies."

She pulled away from him to glare at him.
"Paxten!
I was looking for reassurance."

With a grin, he pulled her back
into his arms.
"We are as safe as we ever are anywhere.
Only, I
fear, I am not at all safe.
Not from you.
Tell me,
ma chére
, why did you
decide that now you cannot leave my side?
What changed?"