Nina Coombs Pykare (23 page)

Softly she moved across the grass. The moon was hiding behind the clouds and of course she had left her candle behind. One did not go chasing spies carrying a lighted candle. Still, there was enough light to see by if she moved slowly and carefully.

And she knew the path well. The half mile that separated the pavilion from the great house was soon covered. Jennifer paused beside a tree, her heart beating in her throat. Every step that brought her closer to the pavilion had brought home more forcibly the foolishness of what she was doing. Governesses did not set out to capture spies.

Nevertheless she had continued to glide soundlessly across the grass and now she stood beside a tree and looked at the bulk of the pavilion - a large darker shadow among the others. There seemed to be no light there, no motion.

It had all been a figment of her imagin-ation, she told herself in relief. And then through the darkness came the sound of footsteps. Someone was crossing the pavi-lion’s wooden floor!

Jennifer’s heart pounded. What should she do now? She looked around her. She stood in a small grove of trees grouped to one side of the pavilion. Wrapping the shawl securely around her head, she crept silently from tree to tree, moving closer and closer.

  Fortunately the trees came almost up to the building and she was able to get quite close without leaving their shelter. Ten feet from the pavilion she paused, the sound of her heart like the beating of drums in her ears. Surely anyone could hear it.

She stood motionless, breathing as si-lently as possible and listening, listening for the smallest sound.

“Where is that man?” Ingleton asked querulously. “He should be here by now.”

“Do not disturb yourself,” said a bland voice. Jennifer’s heart lurched. That was the voice of Dupin! “The night is dark. It will take the courier some little time to find his way.”

“Just so Haverford doesn’t find
him
,” grumbled Ingleton. “That man’s dang-erous, I tell you.”

Jennifer grabbed the tree trunk and leaned against it for support. Dupin and Ingleton, meeting a courier!

“Have I not done as I promised?” asked Dupin. “The Lady Carolyn looks with favor on your suit. The names will be sent out tonight, including the newest from my last entertainment in the neighborhood. My Emperor will be glad to know the identity of those I have recruited into his service. He will be pleased with me. They are a goodly lot, and in high places, some of them.”

  Jennifer’s fists clenched. Dupin was using his powers to recruit spies for Nap-oleon! And they must be important people.

“My welcome here is secure,” Dupin continued. “I shall use Seven Elms as a base of operations. The Parthemers - they are fools. She will invite anyone I say. Here, I can in safety pass on the inform-ation I collect from the others. You, how-ever, need not stay. You will marry the lady and live in luxury.”

Jennifer could hear someone move restlessly. “The lady has a papa, you know. What if he disagrees?”

“That is of no matter,” returned Dupin calmly. “Before I leave I will implant in the lady’s mind the idea that she cannot live without you. When her papa sees her pine away, he will agree to anything.”

Jennifer bit her bottom lip. So Dupin
could
put suggestions in someone’s mind. He could control people’s lives! And that was what he had been attempting, in an-other way, with his fake messages about the dangerous fair-haired man. Haverford was no spy - that much seemed clear.

“I wish your man would hurry,” complained Ingleton. “Haverford was not satis-fied the night of the ball. He did not believe my explanations. I know it.”

  “You are much too timid,” said Dupin sarcastically. “You see dangers where they do not exist. Haverford will be busy chas-ing after rumors I started. We need have no fear of him.”

Jennifer steadied herself against the tree. So that was it. Haverford had suspected something and was after these two. She knew all there was to know. Now she must get away from here. Rouse Mr. Parthemer and get some help. Perhaps they could keep this courier from taking the messages to Bonaparte. At least they could try.

Gingerly she moved away from the tree, guiding each foot as carefully as possible, always on the alert for sounds from the pavilion. She had almost reached the edge of the grove when she was brought up short by a rough arm around her waist. She opened her mouth to scream but a hand closed over it. She kicked and struggled, but it was no use. Her captor dragged her inexorably toward the pavilion.

She was still struggling as he half-dragged, half-carried her inside. “This one I found snooping,” he said. That moment the moon broke from behind the clouds and Jennifer stood face to face with Monsieur Dupin.

  He smiled evilly. “So Mademoiselle did not heed my warning. Too bad for her. Release her mouth, Henri. If she screams, we will render her unconscious.”

Jennifer, under the stare of those black eyes, summoned all her will. “You must let me go this minute,” she said. “I was only taking a walk.”

Dupin laughed. It was a frightening sound. “Mademoiselle’s walk may take much longer than she expected. Henri, you have ropes?”

“Oui,
Monsieur.”

“Tie this one. And gag her. I do not wish to be distracted. Besides, that will make it easier for the courier to carry her.”

“Carry her?” Ingleton sounded puzzled.

“Please, you mustn’t let him,” Jennifer pleaded.

That was all she had time to say. For Henri, who had been tying her wrists behind her, now reached down and ripped off a piece other gown to stuff in her mouth.

Jennifer caught a glimpse of Ingleton’s startled white face. “You can’t...” he began.

“Mon ami,”
said Dupin in a tone that was anything but friendly. “Think. We cannot allow the Mademoiselle to remain here. She will give us away... both of us. Of course, we could kill her.”

Jennifer’s heart jumped up in her throat.

“Surely it is more merciful to send her away. The courier is a man of parts. He will know how to dispose of her at a profit.”

Dupin’s hand reached out to caress her hair. She shuddered.

“Yes, Mademoiselle will bring a high profit. Put her over there, Henri. By the pillar. And tie her ankles. Mademoiselle has the courage.”

Jennifer found herself thrust roughly down on a bench. The ropes on her wrists bit cruelly into her flesh and those with which Henri secured her ankles were equally painful.

She felt the tears well up in her eyes and run down her cheeks. It was not for rea-sons of mercy that the Frenchman spared her life. Certainly death would be prefer-able to the living hell into which he meant to send her. How ironic, thought Jennifer, that the woman who had repulsed the Earl of Linden and fought with her partiality for the Viscount Haverford should end up sold into a common house, the degraded slave of any man with the price to pay for her services.

Well, she told herself. There was some consolation in the fact that she would not long survive such a life. Death would bring a welcome end to it. And death need not be passively waited for. It could be actively sought.

Another figure stepped into the pavilion - a small, ugly man with an evil-looking face.

“You are late,” cried Ingleton.

The ugly man snarled. “The night is dark. I come as quick as I can. Where are the messages?”

“Here.” Dupin patted an oilcloth-wrapped package. “But there has been a change of plans. The Mademoiselle overheard us talking. She must return to France with you.”

“Bah. I have no time for such things.”

“Take a look at her, my friend. She will enliven the dull hours of the voyage and she will bring a pretty price at its end. If you are careful.”

The ugly man stepped closer. He grabbed her hair and tilted back her head till her eyes met his. “This one is a fighter,” he said with an evil grin. “She will be fun to tame. All right, I take her. But you must send your man to carry her. Me, I have not the strength.”

“It is done,” nodded Dupin. “Give me my payment and you may be on your way.”

The stranger produced a leather bag. “Gold guineas,” he said. “Good pay.”

“I am worth even more,” replied Dupin, handing over the oilcloth packet. “But come, you must be going. Henri, the girl.”

Jennifer struggled, but it was useless. The big valet simply flung her over his shoulder. She could hear Dupin laugh. “Mademoiselle will regret this night for the rest other life.”

If only she could die now, Jennifer thought, now, before they had defiled her.

Following the stranger, Henri stepped out of the pavilion. And then suddenly the darkness was full of sounds. Jennifer found herself thrown to the ground. The force of it took the breath from her body, but she did not lose consciousness. All around her were the sounds of violent struggle. And then voices, English voices! “Over here. Get that one. There’s four of them.”

Someone knew! Someone had come! Tears of gratitude poured from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks to dampen the strip of dress that gagged her.

Finally the sounds of struggle were over. “We’ve got them all,” said the voice she knew so well, Haverford’s voice!

“You will regret this,” snarled Dupin.

But Haverford only laughed. “I think, Monsieur, that the regret will be on your part. Take them away. The torches, where are they?”

“Here, sir.”

“Good. There’s a young lady here some-where. We must find her.”

Jennifer closed her eyes as a wave of relief swept her. Within minutes the torches were flaring and soon after Haver-ford was on his knees beside her, loosening her bonds.

She tried to rise to her feet, but her legs would not hold her. He scooped her up in his arms and returned to the pavilion.    “You may go,” he told the rest of the men. “The lady and I have matters to discuss.”

The men departed and Haverford settled onto a bench, still holding her so that she leaned against him. She struggled to free herself, but he merely smiled. “You will not escape me again,” he said, tipping back her head and kissing her with a gentleness that was strangely thrilling.

When he released her mouth, she struggled to regain her senses. “I... I must return to the house. This is unseemly.”

The Viscount laughed. “And was it not unseemly to be chasing after spies?”

“Yes, but....”

“No buts,” he said. “You are not to be trusted by yourself. Such foolhardiness. I will put you under my protection.”

  A sudden wave of weakness swept over her. There it was. He was offering to keep her. Do it, do it, her heart cried. Look how chancy the world was. All her efforts to lead an honorable life could so easily have been wasted.

“I... I...” she began.

“There will be no more denials, my pet,” he said sternly. “And no more drab dresses and hair severely pulled back. When you are my wife, you must let your hair fall free.”

This wave of weakness was even worse than the first. She clung to him with the feeling that she was drowning. “Your... wife?”

The moonlight shone on his face as he looked at her. “Of course. You....” He stopped suddenly. “All along you have supposed that I meant to dishonor you.”

She could not deny it. “It... it is the common lot of governesses,” she murmured.

His arms tightened around her. “I have always meant to deal honorably with you. I did not reveal myself because I did not want you to become involved in this spy business.”

Jennifer blushed. “I....”

  “You need not apologize.” In the moonlight the grey eyes sparkled. “I am, after all, a hardened rake-shame.” His eyes softened. “I have touched no woman since the day I stopped the runaway pony. I do not apologize for my past. I am a man with a man’s need. But the past is over. The future is ours ... ours alone.”

“Yes,” Jennifer nodded, snuggling against his waistcoat. “Oh yes.”

Then she was struck by a sudden thought. “The children! Who will care for the children?”

The Viscount touched her cheek gently. “I’m sure Mrs. Parthemer will appreciate the help of the Viscountess Haverford in finding a new governess. And the children will visit often.”

His lips brushed her forehead. “And soon, though not too soon, perhaps there will be other children.”

“And we will take them to the beach,” said Jennifer happily. “And play with them in the sand and water.”

“Yes, my love,” said the Viscount Haver-, gathering her up in his arms and starting off toward the house. “We shall do that and more. But for right now I must return you to your employers and tell Mr. Parthemer about the night’s events. And the first thing in the morning, my love....”

Jennifer, with her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder, murmured contentedly, “Yes....”

“The first thing in the morning I shall see the Vicar about calling the banns.”

Copyright © 1980 by Nina Coombs Pykare

Originally published by Dell (ISBN 0440119197)

Electronically published in 2007 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.