The Prince of Ravenscar (29 page)

When he was finished checking the repairs, Julian shook Captain Cleaves's hand and wandered around the dock area, stopping various men, giving them Manners's description. He had no luck. He paid out coin for information on Manners. He wanted him badly. He was his only connection to Richard Langworth.

When he saw Devlin standing in front of a milliner's shop on High Street, Parisian Feathers, all three ladies clustered around him, Julian grinned. He'd been so intent on sabotage and mayhem, finding Manners, and kicking both him and Richard into the channel. But now here was Devlin, his hat brim pulled down to protect him from the bright sun overhead, laughing, quite enjoying himself, looking at bonnets.

“That one,” Julian heard him say, and saw him point to a high-brimmed straw bonnet with at least a dozen pieces of fruit decorating its high poke, nests of ribbons holding them, and a thick, long red ribbon to tie beneath a lady's chin. “Roxanne, you would look a treat with those peaches all over your head. If I ever was hungry, I could simply pluck one off. You would be my private orchard.”

Roxanne poked him in the belly. “All those peaches, that bonnet must weigh a stone, Devlin. I would have a bowed back by the end of morning wearing that bushel of fruit.” As for the bonnet Roxanne was wearing, Devlin found it very charming, only two small finches perched beside the crown, the bonnet as wide-brimmed as Devlin's black hat. Should he offer to provide her birdseed?

“Ah, dearest, there you are,” Julian's mother called to him. “Do come here, I require your opinion. Devlin simply will not be serious. Tell me what you think of these bonnets. They are newly arrived from Paris, and I am in need.”

Julian obligingly looked more closely and surveyed the bonnets in the window, each of them decorated with bows, ribbons, and flowers, and occasional fauna. “That one,” he said, pointing to a pink straw that was in the corner of the window. “That one would look splendid on you, Mother.”

“Do you not think it very plain?”

“Not at all. It is perfect for you.”

A half-hour later, they all emerged from Parisian Feathers, the pale pink leghorn hat, with a line of braided darker pink ribbons encircling the crown, set atop her grace's head, tied rakishly beneath her chin.

Roxanne said, “Do you know, Devlin, even with your hat, your nose is becoming red. I think it best we go into the Golden Goose Inn and plant you in a dim corner.”

He quickly pulled his hat down farther over his eyes. He looked at her closely, lightly touched his fingertips to her nose. “I believe I see some freckles coming out to march over your lovely white self.”

Julian, still on the lookout for Manners, realized he was striding a good distance in front of their group, eyeing every man he saw. He slowed his step and placed his mother's hand on one arm and Sophie's on the other. His mother was speaking of the fine weather and her new bonnet. Sophie, however, was quiet. Sophie was never quiet, she was always laughing, talking, always doing something. He leaned close when his mother stopped to look into a shop window. “What is this? You're mute as a tree. Did Leah blight you that badly?”

“What? Oh, yes, I suppose she did. Leah is a master blighter. She is going to marry Richard Langworth, Julian, and that really makes me wonder what he could possibly be up to.”

It made him wonder as well. Their attention was diverted by a young boy who came running up to Julian, saying he “knowed the name of the sot wot set the fire on the
Blue Star.
”

The sod turned out to be Orvald Manners, but he was gone.

T
hat evening's dinner was served in the small private dining room, where lavish gold curtains were drawn over the windows. Mr. Knatter, owner of the Plymouth Heights Inn, served them Mrs. Knatter's special deviled whitebait. “The secret be in the hot oil, my missus tells me; it's gots to be hot enough to burn the hair off a man's tongue,” he whispered to her grace. “And here be the Norfolk dumplings; 'tis the quality of the castor sugar, that's the key, says my missus.”

Sophie was quiet again. Julian imagined she was thinking about all the trouble, so why not share it? He ordered a bottle of Mr. Knatter's best champagne.

That perked her right up.

“Now, Sophie,” he said, toasting his champagne glass toward her, “tell us more about Leah and Richard's upcoming nuptials.”

That drew everyone's attention.

“Well, as I said, Roxanne told her Richard had attached her purposefully to get to you. Leah told Roxanne and me we were idiots, that there was simply no way Richard could have even known about our connection to you. That's when she hurled her bolt—and announced she was going to marry him.”

Julian said, “There isn't really much of a connection, though I myself have wondered. But despite all the complexity involved, I know it is something Richard would do. Even as a boy, Richard enjoyed making things complicated, enjoyed intrigue, the game, so to speak.” He sighed. “Once Richard made up his mind about something, nothing could change it, even a stone tablet with God's commandments on it. He hasn't changed.”

Sophie sipped her champagne. “It is helpful to understand your enemy. Come, Julian, don't shake your head. Richard hired that Orvald Manners to burn your ship, after, of course, he was safely on land. Richard himself tried to kill you in London. He is no longer your boyhood friend; he hasn't been since Lily's death. Of course he planned the meeting with Leah, and that means this Orvald Manners has to be somewhere nearby. Richard wouldn't hire him, then let him walk away after he failed.”

Sophie turned to Corinne. “Your grace, did you happen to mention to Baron Purley that you wished Julian and me to wed?”

His mother nodded. “I believe I did indeed express to Rupert my devout desire for the two of you to marry.” She sighed. “Evidently, he told his son. It would seem Richard has great confidence in my power over you, Julian, to execute such an involved plan. I am sorry if it led to Leah and Richard both being under Ravenscar's roof. Why do you think they came?”

Devlin said, “To learn more about what we were doing, what we were thinking and planning.”

This led to more questions and possibilities until Sophie announced, “Julian, I wish you would select a bonnet for me. I think I should like to have a pair of geese perched on the crown. What do you think?”

“Red roses,” Julian said, “a lovely line of them across the crown.”

“Hmmm,”
said her grace.

After Julian and Devlin escorted the ladies to their bedchambers, they returned to the taproom to settle in with brandy. The air was heavy and sweet, the conversations around them low and easy.

Devlin said, “Have you made arrangements for a final shipment to the cave?”

Julian nodded. “Yes, the night of the twenty-fourth, there will be no moon. As for storms, it is late spring, so perhaps we will be lucky.”

“It makes no sense for us to return to London. I am not even tempted to settle into London intrigue again. I am quite enjoying myself in the wilds of Cornwall.”

“Your mistresses will languish, Devlin, and perhaps even give up on you, and White's is surely bereft without your presence.”

“I do enjoy the Season, always have. It is odd of me, isn't it? Well, the bonnet you selected for your mother becomes her very nicely. I had no idea my uncle had such excellent taste in bonnets.”

“A man must be accomplished at many things,” Julian said, and lifted his brandy snifter in a toast to Devlin's.

“I see you are worried. Is it about Sophie playing smuggler? Come, Julian, you know there won't be any problems.”

“I'm worried about Orvald Manners. I must find him, Devlin. He's the only one who can point to Richard. As I told you, the lad who hunted me down took me right to where Manners was staying, only he was gone. Where to, I wonder?”

“Probably to see Richard and report his failure. At least no one will get aboard the
Blue Star
now. Captain Cleaves had two men on duty all night.”

An hour later, Julian lay on his back, his head pillowed on his arms, staring up at the inn's sloping ceiling. It was a warm night, and utterly silent. There was not a sound of a single carriage or horse outside his window, no drunken voices, no yelling or singing. He was tired, but his brain wouldn't close itself down. He found himself thinking not about Orvald Manners but about an ugly black jewel that was magic. But the magic would work only for him, not for his father. And this magic lay beneath stone spears. His mind went round and round with the absurd idea of magic itself until he thought he'd drive himself mad. He finally rose, pulled on his clothes, and made his way downstairs to the taproom.

He'd hoped Mr. Knatter was still about, but the taproom was dark and empty. He wanted a brandy, anything to make his mind stop racing. He heard a small noise, whirled around to see an apparition all in white standing in the shadows before him, a candle cupped by a hand.

He smoothly pulled the knife out of his boot. Then he smelled her unique scent.

“Julian, what are you doing here? Before you blight me like Leah did, let me explain. I heard you walk by our chamber and followed you. Are you all right? It is very late.”

He slid the knife back into his boot and straightened. “Sophie, it is well after midnight, and there is no one about. You should not have come down after me.”

She merely smiled and glided toward him. “I saw you pull your knife out of your boot. You were fast, Julian. Had I been a villain, you would have brought me down between one breath and the next.”

“Come, I will walk you back to your room. Hopefully you did not awaken Roxanne.”

But she didn't move. “If I awoke anyone, it would be Tansy. She starts at the sound of a curtain moving at the window. I heard Devlin telling Roxanne about Mr. McGurdy's hardfisted cider. I should like to try it.”

“Only if you wish to lose your virginity by the second glass. Forget I said that.” Julian scraped his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end.

She held the candle higher. “You have whiskers.”

He nodded, said, “Yes. By morning, I look like a pirate.”

“So does my grandfather. Once when I was visiting Allegra Hall with my mother, I chanced to see him early one morning. He had black whiskers all over his face. I asked him if I had to walk the plank, and he came down on his haunches, told me in all seriousness that his whiskers meant he was a Russian czar, not a pirate, and I was to bow to him.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she'd bowed, but he got his brain back on track. “Come, back to bed with you.”

“What do you think about this puzzle from your father?”

“Not much.”

“I believe I know what he means by spears of stone.”

They both whirled about at the sound of a man's angry voice. “What nasty piece of work is trying to steal my ale in the middle of the bloody night?”

Julian took the candle from Sophie, held it high. There stood Mr. Knatter, his bulk wrapped in a lovely Scottish plaid dressing gown.

“We aren't nasty pieces of work, sir,” Sophie said. “We're works of art.”

Julian laughed, couldn't help himself.

I
t was to everyone's collective relief when Pouffer announced that Richard and Leah had returned to Hardcross Manor during their three-day trip to Plymouth.

Pouffer was rubbing his gnarly hands together, grinning widely. “It's peaceful now, Prince, very peaceful, no more harangues from Lady Merrick. Master Richard was polite as can be, but then he's been in and out of Ravenscar all his life, and everyone knows him, so why would he become ill-mannered? However, I did not regard his good manners with any approval at all.”

“Why?” Roxanne asked him.

“Because Master Richard believes our prince killed her poor ladyship. He is naturally quite wrong. It fair to curdles my liver to show him politeness even when he is so very polite to me.”

Corinne said as she stripped off her gloves, “Now they're gone, we can quite enjoy ourselves.”

She gave a sloe-eyed look at her son, then looked purposefully toward Sophie, who was removing her bonnet. Julian rolled his eyes. He said, “Sophie, aren't you due in the schoolroom for your geography lesson?”

Sophie said thoughtfully, “Indeed, I wish to chart the
Blue Star
's course to Boston. I wonder, are there any ice floes to batter a vessel in the North Atlantic?”

Julian said, “There are ice floes everywhere to batter the unwary.”

“I wonder who is about to instruct me?” Sophie gave him a blazing smile, and walked up the staircase, dangling her bonnet by its blue ribbons.

Julian stared after her. She hadn't yet told him what she knew about any spears of stone. He supposed she'd been jesting with him. However, not ten minutes later, he looked up to Sophie striding toward him, making her bonnet ribbons dance in the stiff breeze. He stood in the dog run, surrounded by all four spaniels, all yipping and leaping about, trying to bite one another, vying for his attention. When they heard Sophie's voice, they left him flat and raced back to dance around her, barking their heads off, their tails wild metronomes. He turned again to face the channel, breathing in the wondrous smell of brine and fish and sun, when she said from behind him, “If you will come with me, I will show you spears of stone.”

When he turned to face her, she was on her knees, staring up at him, trying to duck the dogs' tongues licking at her face and hair.

“Heel!”

The spaniels eyed him, then, one after the other, heeled.