The Valentine's Day Ball (29 page)

“What did this man look like?”

“He was a huge man, tall and big. He wore an unpleasant expression, as though he smelled some old poultry.”

“Havelock! Tell me,
madame
, it is of extreme importance. What did they talk about the second time?”

“The gentleman wanted to know why she was leaving. I don’t remember what she told him, but he asked if he might go with her.”

Drew took a deep breath, bracing himself for the horrible truth. “And she answered?”

“She said she would pick him up at his lodging on her way out of town. What is wrong,
monsieur
? You are as white as a ghost!”

“Pray God that is not what I find. If he harms one hair—Exactly what time did they leave? Could they have reached your brother’s inn last night?”

“Easily,
monsieur
. Jean-Luc was excited about the prospect of driving on the main roads. He was anxious to test himself and his horses. Wait,
monsieur
! You’re going after her?”

“Yes, I’m going after her.”

“I have a package you may give her. The dressmaker sent it over early this morning. You will see that
madame
receives it?” she asked, handing him the large package.

“Yes. Tell me, where can I hire the fastest team of horses?”

“At the hotel,
monsieur
, where you stayed.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck,
monsieur
!” Madam DuClaire almost shouted as Drew rushed past and out the door.

b

Jane had little appetite for breakfast, and when they set sail on the choppy sea, she was feeling wretched indeed. Tucker, occupied with her mistress, forgot her own queasiness as she tried to make Jane comfortable.

By the time they landed at Brighton, it was evident that Jane was suffering from more than seasickness. As they disembarked, Roland hurried ahead to book them all rooms for the night.

Tucker, helping her feverish mistress along the crowded dock, muttered, “Like as not, ’e’s absconding with th’ money ye gave ’im for th’ room.”

“Nonsense, Tucker,” Jane managed to say.

“Hmph! Well, ye’ll notice ’e couldn’t be bothered to find ye a carriage. Afraid ye’re catchin’. Just like a man!”

“Please, Tucker.”

The maid suppressed further comments as she hailed a hackney and hustled Jane into the musty carriage. Moments later, they were set down in the yard of the Ship’s Inn. Tucker paid off the driver and followed Jane inside.

The same landlord showed them upstairs. In no time, Jane was smiling weakly at her maid before closing her eyes and falling into a restless sleep.

b

“How is she?” asked Roland several hours later. He glanced up from his empty plate, surprised to see a look of loathing on the maid’s face.

“She’ll do, Mr. Havelock.”

“Yes, but will she be ready to travel in the morning? I can’t stay here forever.”

“Since it’s Miss Jane’s carriage and coachman, I don’t think ye’ll have much say in the matter. Tom Summers wouldn’t think of setting off if Miss Jane’s not fit.”

“How noble of him,” sneered Havelock.

“Why don’t you hire your own carriage and leave…sir?”

“I would, but I can’t abandon my dear cousin when she is ill. Let me know when Jane wants to leave in the morning. I feel certain she will be well by then.”

Tucker withdrew, neglecting to curtsey.

“Damned servant,” muttered Roland. He sat back in his chair. It creaked under his weight. Slowly he licked his lingers, savouring the feeling of repleteness.

Jane hadn’t cooperated and died, but she was ill. That was some compensation for the risk he had taken in Dieppe. He would need to be careful; Jane was quite good with a pistol. He didn’t dare confront her, especially with that pesky maid around.

Slowly, he smiled. Yes, an accident could be arranged after he had parted ways with her at Reading. That would soon take care of his dear, dear cousin and her insolent maid as well.

But Devlin…Havelock sat up straight and glanced at the door as though the thought might produce the viscount in the flesh. Then he relaxed. Devlin couldn’t possibly be in England yet. He would be waiting to cross the channel, probably on the morrow.

Roland would be forced to pay Jane a visit first thing in the morning. A word or two about Devlin following them would soon see Jane ordering out her carriage to continue their journey.

How fortunate Jane hadn’t sent her coach and servants back to Heartland. Her carriage would be much more comfortable than a hired one. Of course, it was a shame the carriage would need to be damaged. But he could easily order a new one, a better one, when he had all the money from Heartland.

He wouldn’t sell the estate, of course. There would be no need. And somehow life would be even sweeter knowing he had deprived the cunning Lord Devlin of Jane and Heartland!

b

By morning, Jane was feeling better. She no longer had the fever or queasiness, though she remained weak.

When Tucker came in with the breakfast tray, Jane was seated at the dressing table, daydreaming as she brushed her long hair. She set the brush on the table.

“Is my cousin awake yet? I want to reach Heartland tonight, so we must leave as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, Miss Jane. I ’eard ’im bellowing for ’is breakfast not fifteen minutes ago. I think ’e’s as anxious to be off as you are.” The maid sighed.

“What is it, Tucker? You may speak freely with me.”

“No, miss, I can’t, for what I want to tell ye is not mine to tell. I just hope ye’ll be careful and use your head. It could be the wickedness ye’re running from is closer than you think.”

“Now, to what are you referring?”

“I can’t say any more. But ye want to be careful who ye trust these days,” said the maid enigmatically.

Jane decided to ignore Tucker’s prophecies of doom and began to pick at her breakfast. A bite or two of biscuit, a cup of good English tea, and her stomach rumbled a protest. She pushed the tray away.

“I think I’ll dress now, Tucker, and take a turn outside before being cooped up in that carriage all day.”

“Just as you say, Miss Jane.”

b

“It is so good to be back in England!” said Roland as the carriage rattled down the streets of Brighton.

“I must agree with you. Perhaps someday I would like to go back to the Continent, but not any time soon.”

“I couldn’t agree more!”

They fell silent, staring out their prospective sides of the carriage. Scattered houses gave way to green meadows, and Jane yawned.

“I have a deck of cards, Jane, if you’d care to pass the time with a friendly game of piquet—penny stakes, of course.”

“What a good idea, Roland.”

Roland stared when Jane picked up her square jewellery case and placed it on the seat between them.

Jane laughed and commented, “I knew my medicine case would come in handy.”

“Medicine?”

“Yes. It is meant for jewellery, but since I rarely travel, I use it for emergency medical equipment bandages, basilicum powder, and such. I leave it in the carriage in case there is an accident along the road.”

“How clever of you,” said Roland, beginning to deal the first hand.

They played for two hours. Jane knew that Roland was a terrible card player; if anything, she was worse. At the final tally, she owed him one pound six. He waved away her efforts to pay him.

“No, no, Jane. It is too gratifying to find someone worse with cards than I am. I wouldn’t dream of taking your money. We’ll have a rematch another time.”

Jane was surprised at his magnanimous attitude. It was a side of her cousin she had never seen.

Roland smiled and put the cards away. “I suppose I’ll be leaving you before long. We should be in Reading in an hour. I’ll be able to hire a gig there and drive on to London. I appreciate your letting me tag along like this.”

“It’s been very pleasant, Roland.”

He extended his smile to Tucker who eyed him with distrust.

b

The closer they came to London, the denser the population of houses. They left the main road at Leatherhead to swing southwest of London. By noon they were pulling into the yard of The Crown, one of Reading’s best inns.

Tom Summers supervised the ostlers who came running out to unhitch the team while Jane was escorted to a room to freshen up.

Roland took a short stroll in the yard, seemingly uninterested in the bustling activity swirling around him. He stopped by the stable, pretending a great interest in the horses while he watched Tom Summers inspect the carriage. Next, the coachman spoke to the ostlers, assuring they would harness only the best team to his mistress’s carriage when it was time to leave.

Then he and the groom entered the common tap for a bite to eat and a tumbler of French milk, a popular drink with the mail coach guards. The milk was sweetened with a lump of sugar, two fingers of rum, and a hint of nutmeg grated on top.

Roland came into the taproom just as they were sitting down to their drink and a steaming dish of pigeon pie.

“Mind if I join you? At least for a drink.”

“O’ course not, Mr. Havelock,” said Tom Summers respectfully. The young groom, not as adept at masking his feelings, glowered at the huge man. The coachman jabbed the youth with a bony elbow, making him more cheerful.

Roland took a long pull on the potent liquid and said, “I was hoping you’d do me a favour, Summers.”

“Aye, sir,” said the older man cautiously.

“Yes, you know I’m no judge of horseflesh. I was hoping you’d go out to the stables and pick out a decent team for me to drive to London. Nothing too racy, mind. I’m not as good with the ribbons as you are,” Roland said with a self-deprecatory laugh.

“Be glad to, Mr. Havelock. What did you have in mind, a chaise and four or just a pair?”

“Handling a pair is as high as I aspire, Summers. Thank you.” Roland stood up and paid the reckoning for himself and the two servants.

Young James watched him leave with wide eyes. He shook his head in wonder and commented, “What d’ye think o’ that, Mr. Summers? I never knew ’im t’ be so polite and all.”

“Nor ’ave I. Still, it’s no wonder,” said the older man. “Just shows ’e knows ’ow t’ behave if ’e wants somethin’.”

b

When Jane entered the private parlour, Roland was already wiping his chin. He speared a last elusive bite, finishing this before he stood up.

“Must apologize for eating without you, Jane. I really must be going. I don’t drive as fast as your man, and though I’ve less distance to cover, I do want to be settled in some lodgings before dark. Besides, the thought of travelling across Hounslow Heath at dusk makes me shiver. I’ve no desire to make some highwayman’s fortune.”

“That’s quite all right, Roland.” She extended her hand, and he bowed over it. He held out a chair for her, choosing one that faced away from the yard.

“Goodbye, Jane. Thank you again for bringing me this far. Oh, I’ve already settled the reckoning for this and for your people, so don’t let the landlord tell you otherwise.”

“Thank you, Roland. How thoughtful of you. And remember to send me your direction when you get settled in London. I want to be sure you receive your invitation for Heartland’s Open Day.”

“I will,” he promised as he left the room.

Jane looked at the table before her. It was still overflowing with food. How odd that Roland had left her so much from which to choose. Perhaps he was sickening with the same fever she had had.

Jane selected her food carefully, relieved she was able to consume a normal quantity. Evidently, whatever bothersome little illness she’d experienced was gone.

As she ate, she listened to the muffled shouts of coachmen and ostlers as carriages arrived and departed the busy inn. The noise was constant, rather like a gentle rainfall, almost lulling one to sleep. Her back to the window, she only listened. Watching such endless activity might have been tiring in itself.

It was into this sleepy atmosphere that a frantic Lord Devlin burst. The door flew open and slammed against the wall. The landlord shouted his protests. Drew and Jane stared at each other.

Drew’s appearance was shocking. His driving coat with its modest quantity of capes was open, revealing a stained shirt. He had torn off his cravat and removed his coat; his waistcoat hung open limply. His face was unshaven; his black hair was truly windswept.

Jane got to her feet. With a wave of one hand, she dispersed the landlord and the small knot of curious spectators. Slowly, she walked to the door. Drew watched in silence as she shut it.

“You look terrible,” she said bluntly.

“You’re looking a trifle pale yourself,” he answered.

“I’ve been ill.”

He walked to the table and sat down, helping himself to a dish of kidney pie. Jane watched as he devoured the remainder of it and drained her cup of tea to wash it down.

“Where’s Havelock?” he asked finally.

“He’s already gone.” Jane was surprised how calmly she spoke.

“Are you all right? He didn’t do anything to hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” asked Jane, her voice rising slightly.
Oh, no! Roland only told me the truth—a truth so painful I will never trust another man again!
Instead of shouting those words, she said flatly, “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Drew buried his face in his hands. He looked so vulnerable, so rumpled and dear. Jane wished with all her heart she could go to him, but knowing what he had done, she couldn’t take one step closer. He raised his head.

“I have been travelling since yesterday morning to get here in time. Now I find you well and apparently out of danger. It makes me feel foolish, Jane.”

“I don’t know why you would do such a thing. Didn’t Madame DuClaire give you my note?”

“Yes, I got that piece of rubbish. I must have read it a hundred times during the night while crossing the Channel.”