by Shana Galen
Colin put his hand over Daphne’s. “Two plates of whatever the cook has made and two cups of ale.”
The wench sauntered off. Daphne snatched her hand away from Colin’s. “I wouldn’t have bought any jewelry from her.” She looked about the room again. “I’ve never been to a place like this. I’ve eaten in a tavern, of course, but my father always secures a private room.” Her gaze met those of the men across the room, who had been silent since she’d arrived and were making no pretense about watching her. “I can see why.”
“They’ve never seen anyone who looks like you walk in here. They’re curious, but harmless.”
The wench set two mugs on the table. “The food will be ready shortly.”
Colin sipped his ale and Daphne followed. She didn’t drink ale often, but she liked it when she did, and this was quite good. All the activities of the day had made her thirsty and her cup was soon empty. Colin raised a brow then signaled for another.
“Now they can go home and tell their wives that a duke’s daughter drinks ale just like any other woman.”
Colin smiled. “That wasn’t what I meant when I said they haven’t seen anyone like you.”
She was feeling warm from the ale and a bit lightheaded as she’d had nothing but toast all day. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m beautiful?”
His mouth quirked up. “I’ve already told you that.”
“Have you? I don’t remember.”
He leaned across the table. “You’re beautiful, Daphne.”
Before he could lean back, she grasped his wrists. “So are you, Colin.”
“Perhaps that’s enough ale until the food arrives.”
“I’m just telling the truth. I’ve always thought you were beautiful. You have those green eyes.” She studied his eyes now, so pretty and vivid. They were deep enough to hold so many secrets.
“A lot of people have green eyes.” He reached for her ale and she scooted it closer to herself, out of his range.
“Not like yours. Not that light green fringed with those black lashes. Women would kill for lashes like that. I would kill for lashes like that.”
She might have been mistaken, but she thought his cheeks reddened. He cleared his throat. “I had no idea my eyelashes were so coveted.”
“Don’t go around fluttering them now,” she teased.
“I make no promises.”
She stared at him. “Look at you. Teasing and talking like an actual person.”
“As opposed to?”
She shrugged and sipped her ale. “You are always so serious and stoic. I admit I was a bit afraid of you when we were younger. A bit afraid and completely smitten.” His face registered shock and she realized what she’d said. “Did I say that out loud?” she asked.
“The part about being smitten with me?”
“I did.” She finished her ale and raised her hand for another. He caught and lowered it.
“I think you’d better slow down.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps I should drink more. I should have told you how I felt a long time ago,” she said.
He paled slightly.
“Oh, but I forget that you don’t like to talk about feelings. You don’t want to hear how I was half in love with you for years.”
“Oh, God.” He looked slightly ill.
Daphne continued, ignoring his obvious discomfort. “You don’t want to know how I begged my mother to arrange for me to marry you. How she didn’t think it was a good match, but between your mother and me pressing her, she finally acquiesced. I was a fool.” She was still a fool. Hadn’t he announced last night he did not love her? But she wanted him to know. She didn’t want to look back and wish she’d told him how she felt, especially when the threat of Battersea might mean any moment now might be her last.
Colin stared at her, his eyes a darker shade of green now. “You wanted to marry me?” He sounded as though he were choking.
“That’s what I’m saying. I loved you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Why? It’s the truth. I wanted to be your wife. Well, until I actually was your wife.”
She didn’t know what Colin would have said next because the tavern wench returned and set two bowls of thick stew on the table along with a loaf of warm bread.
She eyed Daphne’s mug. “More ale?”
Colin drained his. “Two, please.”
The wench nodded and sauntered off. Colin didn’t take his gaze from Daphne. She peered critically at the food before them. “This actually looks good.” She dipped a spoon into the stew and tasted it. “Not bad.”
“I hesitate to mention this again, but did you say—” He seemed to reconsider the question. “Did you mean to imply that before we married, you—you—”
“Loved you? Yes.” She ate another bite of stew while he gaped at her. “But then what did I know about love? I thought we would ride away from the church in a carriage and live happily ever after. Instead you went to war and I...I suppose I stayed behind and waited for you.”
The server returned with the ale and Colin took his and drank deeply.
“You really had no idea, did you?” She reached for her ale, but he took it out of her hands.
“No more. I won’t survive any more confessions.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a secret. I planned to tell you on our wedding night. Remember I asked you about your secrets? That was mine.” She hadn’t thought it would surprise him, though. To her, it had been so obvious.
“I thought you didn’t want the marriage any more than I did.”
Daphne set her spoon on the table. She wasn’t hungry any longer, and she was glad he had taken the ale, though it was still within reach. Her stomach had turned sour. “The truth is—”
“Oh, God. No more truths.”
“—that I knew you didn’t want to marry me. I thought you’d change your mind. I thought I’d be such a good wife that you wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with me. Obviously”—she gestured to the tavern—“my plan did not succeed.” Because the truth was that Colin FitzRoy would never love her. He would never be hers. He was with her for the moment, but that wouldn’t last. Even now, he wanted to escape her.
As if to prove her point, he said, “I think I should take you home.”
Perhaps because she was feeling spiteful, she said, “You mean, we should go home. Together.”
His brow lowered in confusion then his eyes went wide. Clearly, he had forgotten they lived together now. He couldn’t escape her quite so easily. The knowledge gave her little comfort. He’d find an escape soon enough.
“But Colin, we can’t leave now. We haven’t found Captain Gladwell.”
The serving wench happened to be passing by, and she doubled back. “You’re looking for Captain Gladwell?”
“Yes,” Daphne said, her hopes rising. Obviously, this woman knew Gladwell. She shot a quick glance at Colin to see if he was as thrilled as she. His face told her nothing, though. He sipped the ale—her ale—but his expression was carefully schooled.
“We’re looking for a ship to transport some cargo,” Colin said. “We were told Gladwell can be trusted.”
“What are you—” Daphne broke off at the narrowing of Colin’s eyes. She pressed her lips together. She could play at deception. She’d practically been raised on it.
The server looked over her shoulder at the publican, who was busy moving wine casks behind the bar. She moved closer to Daphne and lowered her voice. “He was already in here tonight. He left less than a quarter hour before you come in.”
“Damn it,” Colin said. “Do you know where he lives? Perhaps we can speak to him there?”
“I don’t know, but he usually walks home along the water. I live that way, and if I leave when he does, he walks me home. He’s a kind old man. Walks with a bit of a limp and carries a cane, so I have to walk slowly.”
Colin rose. “Thank you.” He pressed a coin into her hand. The server looked down at it and her eyes widened. “This
is more than your dinner, sir. I’ll fetch change.”
Colin held his hand out to Daphne. “Keep the change.” He dragged Daphne out of the Clipper as the server called her thanks.
DAPHNE DID NOT MOVE quickly, and Colin finally turned to her in exasperation. “If we hurry, we might still catch him.”
“My hat is falling off,” she complained. “I need to secure—”
He grasped the hat ribbons, yanked them loose, and handed her the hat. “Problem solved.”
“Really!” But she moved more quickly, and he no longer had to drag her behind him. He wanted to move quickly, to leave the tavern where she’d confessed so much to him behind. He hadn’t been able to breathe in there.
Daphne loved him. She had always loved him. How had he not known that? Or had he known but refused to admit it because he did not know how to deal with a woman who cared for him and whom he had feelings for as well?
Yes, he had feelings for her. He could admit it, if only to himself. She wasn’t the girl he remembered, but a woman who was clever and brave and funny and desirable. The problem was that none of this mattered. He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything for her. It was worse than having been mocked as a young man for having feelings; it was that he knew what it was to have loved and lost.
He’d loved his mother. He was her youngest, so she’d spent more time with him than her other children and he’d felt close to her. When she’d died, it was like a part of him died as well. He’d spiraled into a dark well of sadness and despair. He’d wanted to curl up there and die, but his father hadn’t allowed it. In the end, it had taken every last ounce of strength Colin possessed to crawl out of that black place. Daphne wanted him to love her, but the part of him that loved was gone, and he was too much of a coward to resuscitate it. Colin could not bear to feel the pain of loss again.
They reached the waterfront a few minutes later and Colin looked down as far as he could see in one direction then the other. He saw no one but mudlarks in the shallows and whores leaning against buildings. No older men with canes in either direction.
“I should have asked her which way,” Colin said. “But we can come back tomorrow.”
Daphne pointed to the mudlarks. “What are those boys doing?”
He should have known she would not be so easy to manage. He had not exaggerated when he said she caused trouble. “Looking for anything of value in the river to sell or pawn,” he answered.
She grasped Colin’s arm. “Give them some money.”
He sighed, knowing a few coins wouldn’t help the children beyond today or tomorrow. “Lads, come here and I’ll give you a penny.”
A couple of the boys looked at him, then looked at another boy, the tallest, seemingly for approval.
“What do we have to do for it?” the taller boy asked.
“Nothing,” Daphne answered. “Just take it and get something to eat.”
The leader shook his head. “We don’t take no charity.”
Colin shook his head. “It’s not charity. I want a bit of information.”
The leader seemed to consider then waded out of the water and approached them, two or three of the others following. All were barefoot and wore trousers with the legs rolled up. A couple of them were soaked to the skin as they’d obviously dived underwater to search for hidden treasures.
“What kind of information?” the leader asked, hands on his hips. He was thin as a rail with hollows under his eyes. His hands were red and raw and his clothing was patched and threadbare.
“We’re looking for Captain Gladwell,” Colin said. “Can you show us where he lives?”
The leader looked at the other boys. They were smaller but similarly dressed, their clothing hanging off their thin bodies. Colin caught the slight shake of the leader’s head and the other boys’ barely perceptible nods. “We don’t know a Captain Gladwell,” the leader said. “Now we’d best get back to work before it’s full dark.”
“Wait!” Daphne called after them. “He walks along the waterway nightly. He has a limp!”
“It’s no good.” Colin put a hand on her arm. “They think he’s in some sort of trouble and will protect him. We’ll have to come back tomorrow and wait for him.”
Daphne sighed. “This could go on for days. I can’t hide from the earl forever.”
He heard the note of fear in her voice. “I’m with you,” he said, looking her in the eye to show her she was safe with him. Colin put his hand at her back and guided her back the way they’d come. The area was relatively quiet at this time of evening. Once true dark fell the taverns would fill up. But in the shadowy dusk, he and Daphne saw few other people. “Battersea won’t try anything with me beside you.”
“He’ll find a way to abduct me when you’re not with me, and I’ll never be seen again.” She shivered and Colin pulled her close, feeling strangely protective.
“I won’t allow that to happen.”
She smiled at him. “Be careful. I might begin to think you care.”
“I...” Colin didn’t know what to reply. He couldn’t retort that he didn’t care. He did care. She was his wife and of course he would protect her, but he didn’t think she wanted such a standard response. He knew what she wanted, and he couldn’t give it. Not to her or to himself. In the end, he remained silent.
Perhaps that’s why he heard the footsteps behind them. He turned to look and saw nothing but the fog that had been steadily rolling in from the river. It was thicker now, and he could barely see the shapes of the mudlarks in the distance.
He moved forward again and a moment later heard the steps again. “Someone is following us,” he whispered to Daphne.
Of course, she spun around and peered hard at the fog. “Who is there?” she asked.
Colin winced. He shouldn’t have said anything to her.
“Someone who can ‘elp you,” replied a small voice.
“Why, it’s just a child,” Daphne said.
“I may be little,” the voice said, “but I know something you don’t. Something about Captain Gladwell.”
“Come out of the fog,” Colin said, “and we’ll talk.”
There was a long moment of silence and then the voice said, “Just so you know, I let you ‘ear me. Try anything and I’ll disappear, and you’ll never see me again.”
“I have no doubt you know your way about much better than either of we do. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to know where the captain lives.”
Slowly a small figure began to emerge from the fog. The child looked like an unearthly spirit with the mist swirling about his coat and trousers. “Blunt first. Then information.” The child held out his hand.
“How do we know you won’t just run off after we pay you?” Daphne asked.
The urchin put his hands on his hips. “I give you my word, that’s ‘ow.”
“Fine,” Colin said. “But come out of the fog so we can see you and speak without shouting.”
The child seemed to consider then pointed to an alley between two shops. “We can talk there and not be disturbed. I’ll go first.”
Colin knew if he was volunteering to go first, there must be a way out the back. He held back until the child had entered the dark alley. When he started forward, Daphne hesitated. “I don’t like the looks of it.”
Colin couldn’t argue. If the child was hoping to trap him, it was the perfect arrangement. Who knew what or who might be waiting in the alley? He bent and reached into his boot for his weapon, a long knife with a wickedly sharp blade. “If there’s any trouble, get behind me,” he said.
They entered the alley and were momentarily blinded when a lamp shown on their faces. “Now give me the blunt,” the urchin said.
Squinting, Colin tossed him a penny. The child caught it one-handed. “That’s it?”
“There’s more when you tell us what we want to know. Lower the lamp and tell us where Gladwell lives.”
The lamp wavered then the light slid down. Daphne gasped as they both got
a look at the child. “But you’re a girl,” Daphne said.
Colin had been thinking the same thing, but he was wise enough not to say it.
The girl sneered. “No, you’re a girl. I’m a female, much as I ‘ate to admit it.”
“But you’re dressed like a boy,” Daphne pointed out.
The child pointed to Daphne’s dress. “And ‘ow would I climb over a wall or through a window wearing skirts? Now, do you want to talk fashion or do you want to know about Gladwell?”
Daphne opened her mouth, but Colin spoke first. “Tell us where Gladwell lives.”
The girl shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m no snitch.”
Daphne let out a huff of air. “Then why did you follow us? You’re wasting our time.”
“Because I can get a message to the captain. Maybe tell ‘im you’ll meet ‘im ‘ere tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Colin agreed. “Tell him to meet us at the The Clipper at six tomorrow. We just want to talk. Give him our names—Mr. FitzRoy and Lady Daphne.”
The girl nodded, her large brown eyes shrewd. “That’s a lot to remember.”
Colin flipped her a shilling. “Will that help you retain everything?”
“If you’re asking if this is enough, I think one more shilling will guarantee I get the message perfect.”
“What’s your name?” Colin asked.
The girl put her free hand on her hip. “Why?”
“I like to know who’s fleecing me.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her pale face. “ ‘Arley.”
“That’s not a name,” Daphne argued.
The girl shrugged. “That’s what everyone calls me. I think it’s cuz I’m ‘arley around.”
“It’s hardly around.” Daphne corrected. “Not ‘arley or harley.”
“What do your parents call you?” Colin asked.
“Don’t ‘ave parents,” Harley said. “It’s just me, and I like it that way.”
“I see. Well, give that information to the captain for us.” He tossed her another shilling. “And if you ever decide you don’t like it on your own, come find me, Colin FitzRoy. I have a friend who runs an orphanage, a good one, and he can help you.”
“What’s the name?”
