The Lady's Command (Adventurers Quartet #1)

by Stephanie Laurens

  He was increasingly confident they would pull this off—that he would succeed in his mission, whatever success in that respect might mean, while simultaneously having Edwina by his side and sharing even this side of his life with her.

  What surprised him was that he now actively wanted that—specifically desired that level of togetherness. Perhaps because she was, as he’d always sensed, as much of a questing soul as he; if one considered the basis of the link between husband and wife—what it was that made one the complement of the other, the right person to make the other whole—his newfound desire to join his life with hers even at this level possibly made sense.

  Regardless, he felt as if he was simply more purely because she was beside him.

  As if she’d guessed the direction of his thoughts, she lightly gripped his fingers and shook them to reclaim his attention. When he refocused on her face, she arched her brows. “As there’s nothing more we need to do tonight, perhaps we should retire?”

  He didn’t reply, not in words. He rose, drew her to her feet, tucked her hand in his arm, and led her to their room on the other side of the house.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Edwina lay slumped on the rumpled sheets of their bed. She was physically wrung out and deliciously sated.

  Beside her, Declan lay softly snoring.

  Peace enveloped them. In the quiet and calm, her wits slowly re-engaged.

  Everything to do with his mission was decided. There was nothing more she needed to consider, not tonight. Tonight was, indeed, a hiatus of sorts—they were there, they knew what steps they wished to take next, but there was nothing more they could achieve and no more to think about tonight.

  Which left her wits free to pursue wider thoughts. To consider and analyze where they—he and she—now were.

  In that respect, she was still having trouble believing her luck. Not just because they’d found each other, not just because he’d wanted her as his wife every bit as much as she’d wanted him as her husband, but because they had managed to travel so far into togetherness already. While achieving true togetherness remained her ultimate goal for their marriage, she hadn’t anticipated succeeding so well so quickly.

  Or so easily.

  Today had been one long succession of happenings, of vignettes of action each illustrating their continuing growing together. And their recent interlude had set the crown on her day. The big bed with its exotic netting—he’d explained it was to prevent them being bitten by nighttime insects—had been the perfect stage for yet another extension to their private interaction.

  Yet another new horizon in their bedtime play.

  While she’d heard about what a man could do with his mouth, nothing had prepared her for the reality of that particular brand of ecstasy; she’d literally thought that her heart would give out, but it hadn’t.

  Then, of course, she’d had to return the favor—and that had proved yet another novel experience that had filled her mind and extended their sensual landscape. She’d never truly comprehended just how powerful holding him—her husband and lover—at her mercy could make her feel.

  Confident, assured—and oh, so very certain.

  Of him, and of herself. Of them and their togetherness, and that they would, in time, attain her ultimate goal.

  “Thank God I stowed away.” She whispered the words into the night, then let her lips curve, let her lids fall.

  Compared with remaining in London as they’d planned, sailing with Declan and joining him on his mission was proving over and again to be a much more exciting—and infinitely more effective and satisfying—honeymoon for them both.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Socially speaking, it might be to your advantage that the governor and his lady are currently residing among the civilians.” Declan glanced out of their carriage as it rolled further along the street that ran roughly parallel to theirs, one level further up the hill overlooking Kroo Bay.

  “Indeed.” Seated beside him, Edwina was peering out of the window on the carriage’s other side. “I imagine the local ladies would feel rather intimidated by having to go into the fort to call on Lady Holbrook. I’m sure they’ll feel much freer to drop by now that they don’t have to pass by the guards.”

  Earlier that morning, Henry had gone down to the market and had returned with the news that the governor and his lady were living temporarily in a large bungalow at one edge of the fashionable quarter while the governor’s residence inside the walls of Fort Thornton was rebuilt in stone.

  Edwina squinted ahead. “We must be nearly there.”

  “Henry said it’s the last house on this street.”

  Almost immediately, the carriage slowed.

  Declan looked at Edwina. When, sensing his gaze, she glanced at him, he met her eyes. “I know you’re adept in society, and Lord knows, you and the females of your family know more about keeping secrets than Wolverstone himself, but please promise me you’ll exercise all possible caution when asking after our four missing men.”

  For a second, she studied him, then she smiled and patted his hand. “If you like, I can go one better and promise that their names will at no point pass my lips.”

  He blinked. “Can you promise that?”

  “Yes. Quite easily.”

  Supreme confidence rang in her tone. As she turned back to the window, he decided he’d gently been put in his place; he had to accept that she knew what she was doing—and he’d already decided to trust her in this.

  The carriage swung in a wide arc, then halted parallel to a high stone wall running across the end of the street and enclosing what appeared to be quite a large compound. A heavy gate with a barred opening was the only entrance from the street; Dench had drawn the carriage up directly before it.

  After alighting, Declan handed Edwina down, then gave their names to the solitary soldier standing on guard by the gate; earlier, he’d sent word to the governor’s secretary of his and Edwina’s intention to call. Apparently, the solider had been warned of their likely arrival; he swung open the gate and waved them through.

  Edwina entered first; as Declan stepped past the guard, the man tugged a handle dangling from a chain on the inner wall. Somewhere in the house, a bell jangled.

  Taking Edwina’s elbow, Declan paced beside her as they walked unhurriedly up the garden path. The house before them was similar to theirs, but older and roughly twice the size. The garden, which appeared to surround the building on at least three sides, was mature and dense, the trees gnarled, their boles thick and twisted, their large-leaved branches interlocking overhead; even with the sun beaming down, the garden remained cool and laced with shadows.

  On reaching the front steps, they ascended and were met on the front porch by an earnest young gentleman. “Mr. Frobisher. Lady Edwina. It’s a pleasure to welcome you to Freetown. I’m Satterly, the governor’s principal aide.” Satterly stepped back and waved them to the open front door. “Please come in. Governor Holbrook and Lady Holbrook are expecting you.”

  Declan caught the glance Edwina threw him; she was transparently looking forward to interrogating the governor’s wife. He followed her into the house.

  The sound of their footsteps on the tiles of the front hall brought Holbrook from his office.

  “Frobisher! I didn’t expect to see you back here anytime soon, but”—while offering Declan his hand, Holbrook shifted his gaze to Edwina and his smile widened—“I understand congratulations are in order.”

  Declan returned the hearty handshake. “Indeed.” He followed Holbrook’s gaze; it took no effort at all to make his own gaze proudly proprietary. Edwina had donned a summer gown of sky blue with silver piping; with her hair tumbling in artful curls about her face, she looked delicious enough to eat. He pushed such thoughts out of his mind and stated, “Lady Edwina and I were married some weeks ago, and nothing would do for it but that I must take her on a voyage to all my old haunts.”

  Seeing Holbrook and hearing his voice again brought Declan’s
previous memories of the man into sharp focus. Holbrook was a large-boned, bluff, and rather blunt sort of gentleman, a type found inhabiting local manors over the length and breadth of England. His distinguishing trait was a somewhat pedantic fussiness over the workings of his office. Despite Wolverstone’s and Melville’s reservations, Declan found it difficult to see Holbrook as a man likely to be involved in anything unsavory; he was simply too straightforward a character.

  Edwina threw Declan a droll look as she offered Holbrook her hand. “The sadly mundane truth,” she said, as Holbrook bowed suitably low over her fingers, “is that we are on our way to meet with some connections of my family in Cape Town, and my dear husband persuaded me to call into your town for a few days while he pursues one of his infernal rumors.”

  “A rumor, heh?” Holbrook straightened and released Edwina’s fingers. “Dashed rumors abound in a place like this, y’know. Never can tell what’s real and what’s not.”

  “Too true,” Declan replied. “But with some rumors, it’s simply too risky not to seek clarification.”

  Holbrook’s brows rose. “Like that, is it?” A glimmer of speculation crossed his face, but then he shook his head. “I sometimes wonder what it might be like to go traipsing into the jungle, but I fear I must leave such adventuring to you younger men.” With a wave, he urged them toward an archway giving onto what appeared to be the drawing room. “My wife’s entertaining some ladies over tea—” Holbrook broke off as a large lady of matriarchal mien came sailing out of the drawing room. “Ah—there you are, m’dear. I told you Frobisher and Lady Edwina would call, and here they are.”

  “Indeed.” Lady Holbrook dipped a regulation curtsy to Edwina. “Welcome to Freetown, Lady Edwina.” She exchanged nods with Declan. “Mr. Frobisher. Allow me to join with my husband in hoping your stay will be a felicitous one.”

  With graying brown hair drawn back in a neat bun, and a pair of shrewd gray eyes set in a soft-featured face whose lines suggested its owner spent much of her day smiling, combined with an ample, matronly figure, Lady Holbrook’s appearance added to the couple’s country-manor charm. “Dare I hope you can take tea with us, Lady Edwina? Several local ladies have called, and everyone is most keen to hear the latest news from London.”

  Edwina smiled brightly. “Yes, of course. I would be honored to take tea. We’ve come directly from London, as it happens—I would be delighted to share all I know.”

  “Wonderful.” With a smile, Lady Holbrook waved Edwina on into the drawing room.

  Holbrook took a step backward. “I believe, m’dear, that Frobisher and I should repair to the study. Business, y’know.”

  “Yes, of course.” Lady Holbrook smiled indulgently. “Perhaps you might join us when you finish your discussions.”

  “Indeed.” Looking at Declan, Holbrook tipped his head toward the door from which he’d emerged. “Shall we?”

  Fleetingly, Declan met Edwina’s eyes and saw eager anticipation glowing in their depths. With a slight nod to her, he turned to Holbrook. “Lead on.”

  He followed Holbrook into his office.

  Holbrook waved him to a chair before the large desk. After shutting the door, Holbrook rounded the desk and sank into the chair behind it. “So you truly are here following some rumor?”

  Declan gestured nonchalantly. “It may well be nothing—as you say, there are so many wild tales that do the rounds. But as we were sailing so close, the opportunity to make some inquiries was too good to pass up.” He paused just long enough to make his next question seem reluctant, as if touching on a subject he would rather not openly discuss. “Have you heard of any others showing an interest in such prospective ventures?”

  Holbrook’s face clouded. “Sadly, just recently, there have been several men who should have known better who’ve fallen victim to the lure of jungle speculation.” His tone and expression appeared more irritated than concerned. “Deuced inconvenient when they just up and leave, but you know what it’s like, I warrant. Gold fever.”

  A heartbeat later, Holbrook’s expression blanked, then he hurried to add, “Not that I meant to imply that you are subject to such foolishness. You’re a businessman, and from all I hear you’ve considerable experience in explorations and the like. But these men who hear whispers of riches and have their heads turned and go wandering off in search of their fortunes—well!” Holbrook threw up his hands. “They let down everyone who relies on them. The worst of it is, we can’t replace them, not unless we can prove they’re dead, so we end shorthanded, and you’ll appreciate that’s never a happy state of affairs in a settlement such as this.”

  “No, indeed.” Declan waited, but after his outburst of disgruntled disapproval, Holbrook seemed to fall into a disaffected reverie. Declan would have liked to probe further, but at this juncture, questions naming the men who had vanished would reveal his interest in them as specific—unwise given that Holbrook’s trustworthiness wasn’t guaranteed. After a moment, Declan ventured, “Last time I was here, there was talk of setting up a trade in native textiles. How’s that developing?”

  The question gave Holbrook an opening to extoll the improvements his administration had made and hoped to make in the settlement. Declan sat back, folded his hands, schooled his expression into one of earnest interest, and wondered how Edwina was faring with the ladies.

  * * *

  Seated in pride of place in an armchair in the drawing room, Edwina set her teacup on her saucer and smiled at the eager faces turned her way. “Indeed. Jellicoe’s performance as King Lear was quite extraordinary. I personally saw several grandes dames moved to tears.”

  She’d allowed the assembled ladies, six in all, to quiz her on fashionable events in London. She gave them a moment to sigh and imagine what they’d missed experiencing, then moved to refocus their attention; in the way of such exchanges, it was now their turn to appease her curiosity. “But enough of London and the ton. Tell me of what passes for excitement and entertainment here.” Before any could gather their wits and reply, she leaned forward and, in a conspiratorially lower tone, said, “My staff have heard whispers of gentlemen disappearing—simply vanishing into thin air.” Widening her eyes, she looked about the circle. “That’s not really the case, is it? The thought of Frobisher going out and simply not coming back…” Melodramatically, she raised a hand to her chest. “Why, the very thought gives me palpitations.”

  Rather than leap to assure her that such nonsensical rumors were mere gossip with no basis in fact, all six ladies shared long glances, as if none of them—not even Lady Holbrook—was quite sure how to reply.

  Finally, the local minister’s wife, a Mrs. Hardwicke, set her cup on her saucer, then she looked up and met Edwina’s eyes. “Actually, there have been several disappearances lately.”

  “Really, Mona!” Lady Holbrook’s tone was one of supreme unconcern with an underlying hint of censure. “You know there’s nothing unusual in men going into the jungle to seek their fortunes. Misguided they may be, but these recent incidents are hardly the first. Why, men have been slipping away to venture into the jungles ever since the settlement was established.”

  With her steel-gray hair pulled tightly back from her face, leaving nothing to distract from her severe features, Mrs. Hardwicke inclined her head. “Perhaps. Yet these recent disappearances have not been limited to men. How can one explain the young women who have vanished as well—let alone the children?”

  Lady Holbrook’s lips curved gently, and she arched her brows. “I realize the explanation is not one that might instantly leap to your mind, Mona dear, but where men go, it’s sadly true that women, young women in particular, often follow.”

  Mona Hardwicke stiffened; her features set even more rigidly. “And the children?”

  Lady Holbrook waved dismissively. “As far as I’ve heard, the children presently unaccounted for are nothing more than ragamuffins who have doubtless run away from home. They’ll return soon enough.” Her ladyship bent a more openly chidin
g look on the minister’s wife. “My dear, you don’t want to give Lady Edwina the wrong impression of our little town. We’re hardly a hotbed of crime, at least not as affects the Europeans. Why, I daresay we’re safer walking the streets here than we would be in London.”

  Edwina wasn’t about to argue that. She glanced at the other five ladies; while two—a Mrs. Quinn and a Mrs. Robey—were rather sycophantically nodding their agreement with Lady Holbrook’s declarations, the other two—a Mrs. Sherbrook and a Mrs. Hitchcock—looked as if they would have liked to support Mrs. Hardwicke, but were too timid to speak up. Indeed, both looked troubled, as if each knew something pertinent to the disappearances to which the minister’s wife had referred. Edwina resolved to speak with them later, preferably in a more private setting.

  “But I believe Lady Edwina asked about our local entertainments.” Lady Holbrook firmly steered the conversation into less troubled waters. “Sadly, we have no theaters as yet, and while a musical society has recently been formed, we have yet to gather players sufficiently talented to form even a chamber quartet. But we do have one quite esoteric entertainment—the services led by a local priest, one Obo Undoto.”