by Anne Herries
‘And good at his work,’ Henderson said. ‘If you hadn’t been so close to home, that thigh wound would have done for you, captain. You almost bled to death.’
‘Who patched me up?’
‘Mr Henderson,’ Georgie said, bringing him the glass of water. ‘He did everything a doctor could, but much more quickly. We couldn’t wait because you were losing too much blood.’
Richard’s gaze centred on her face. ‘You didn’t let this rascal help patch me up, Henderson?’
‘Georgie was very good. She has helped me look after you, captain. She didn’t flinch at the sight of blood. I should have been hard put to it to manage without her.’
‘So you know she is a girl?’ Richard sipped the water she offered, his hand closing over hers as she held the glass to his lips. He drank a little and then nodded. ‘Thank you, that is enough.’ He sighed and lay back against the pillows, his eyes closing as he felt a shaft of pain. Georgie started to move away, but his hand came out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. ‘Where did you get those ridiculous clothes?’
‘Henderson gave them to me. I think they belong to you.’
‘Indeed?’ His eyes opened once more. He looked at his manservant, who nodded. ‘We must buy her something suitable. Perhaps Mrs Jensen will know.’
‘I can’t stay here dressed as a girl,’ Georgie said. ‘I don’t mind wearing your things.’
‘Get her something that fits her, Henderson,’ Richard said. ‘If she is determined to keep up the masquerade, make it a youth’s clothing.’
‘Yes, sir, I’ll do that,’ Henderson said. ‘Frederick has a young brother. I’ll ask him to buy a few things.’
‘Yes, do that…’ Richard sighed and closed his eyes. The girl was a problem he could have done without at this particular time, but she had made herself useful. Besides, he just did not have the energy to deal with her for the moment. ‘I need to rest…’
He was vaguely aware of some whispering going on, but the strange tiredness was creeping over his body and he was slipping away, his eyelids too heavy to open.
Georgie left the bedchamber. Henderson had told her that she should find something to eat for herself, and she went down to the parlour. Some cold ham, pickles and fresh bread had been left out for her. There was also a pot of coffee, but it was nearly cold. She drank some because she did not wish to trouble Mrs Jensen for more.
After she had eaten, she gathered the dishes and took them through to the kitchen. Mrs Jensen was there but there was no sign of her husband.
‘You shouldn’t have bothered with those, miss.’
‘I like to help,’ Georgie said. ‘I don’t want to cause more trouble for you than I need, Mrs Jensen.’
‘Well, you’re not a bother, whatever Jensen says,’ Dora told her kindly. ‘I rather like having a young person in the house. It makes a change, and I told Jensen so. He was ready to retire years ago, but I’m younger. I still enjoy my work, and that’s a fact, miss.’
‘I am glad I am not a trouble to you,’ Georgie said. ‘I know Mr Jensen thinks it is all very shocking, and of course he is right—but I have nowhere else to go. If Captain Hernshaw would hire a post-chaise for me, I could leave, but I couldn’t ask him while he was unconscious, could I? As soon as he is well enough, I will ask for a loan of some guineas and then I can leave.’
‘Well, as to that, miss, it is up to the captain who he brings home, and that is what I told Jensen. We’re here to look after the house, not to judge. Besides, there’s nothing going on—couldn’t be with the master so poorly.’
‘He has come to his senses this morning,’ Georgie said. ‘I helped to nurse him when he was in the fever, Mrs Jensen, but he is a strong man and he will soon recover, I think.’
‘I am sure you are right, miss,’ the housekeeper said and nodded her head as if she had the same thought. ‘Mr Henderson told me he had been wounded badly before. It was a good thing you were here to help, that’s all I can say, miss.’
It was on the tip of Georgie’s tongue to ask her to remember that she was supposed to be a boy, but she decided it didn’t matter. As long as she stayed in the house, and out of the way if the captain had visitors, she would be safe enough. She didn’t know that the man she disliked so much was in town to look for her. He could be here for a quite different reason. All she had to do was stay here until she could persuade Captain Hernshaw to help her.
She had decided that she must try to get to her great-aunt’s home and ask her if she would take her in. It need only be for a short time, after all, because as soon as she was in possession of her fortune she could hire a companion and set up her own establishment.
In the meantime, Georgie needed something to amuse herself. She went to the parlour that she had made her own since coming to the house and began to wander about the room. She took down the book of poems and began to read through it, trying to ignore the scribbling in the margin.
After a while, she laid the book aside. Obviously, Captain Hernshaw was mixed up in something nasty. It had not occurred to her previously to wonder why he should have been in those mean streets where he’d found her, but now she frowned over it. Had he gone there to meet someone? She knew from her own experience that the slums were haunted by rogues, thieves and worse—so what had a man like that been doing there? And what was in the package she had snatched from him?
It must have been important for him to chase after her the way he had. Could he possibly be involved with the kind of people who would work against the government and the Regent? She had begun to like him rather a lot and tried to dismiss the thought.
Getting to her feet, she was about to replace the book, but then changed her mind, taking it with her as she went back upstairs. She paused outside Captain Hernshaw’s rooms, then knocked and entered. She saw at once that their patient was awake, sitting up against the pillows. Henderson had clearly been busy, for his master was clean-shaven and looked much better than he had when she’d left earlier.
He gave her an odd look as she entered. ‘What are you doing here? I must thank you for helping Henderson, but you should not continue to visit me here now—unless you have no reputation to lose?’
Georgie blushed. ‘I came to see if I could do anything for you,’ she said. ‘If you would like me to read to you…’ She hesitated and then approached the bed, showing him the book. ‘I found this downstairs.’
‘Did you indeed?’ Richard glared at her. ‘And have you been reading it?’
‘Yes…’ She looked away from his hard gaze and then back. ‘It has writing in the margins and some words are underlined.’
‘And what do you make of that?’
Georgie took a deep breath. ‘I am not sure. It might be some sort of a code…’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Because I tried making sense of it.’ She hesitated, then confessed, ‘There was a paper inside that gave me instructions for breaking the code.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes…at least I was able to form words and sentences.’
‘And that has made you wonder if I am a spy or an assassin?’
‘No, of course not,’ Georgie denied, a flush in her cheeks. ‘I mean…it does look bad, but I didn’t think you…but you were attacked and I wondered…’
‘I should have left you where I found you,’ Richard said ruefully. ‘I knew you were trouble from the start.’
‘You’re not involved in a plot to kill the Regent, are you?’ Her eyes opened wide.
‘If I were, you would have just signed your own death warrant,’ Richard said, a gleam of annoyance mixed with laughter in his eyes. ‘No, I am not involved in it—but I may be involved in trying to stop someone who is.’
‘Yes…’ Georgie let out a long sigh of relief. ‘I thought it must be that. I am so glad it isn’t you.’
‘Are you?’ He arched his right brow. ‘Are you able to keep a secret, Georgie?’
‘Yes, of course. I shan�
�t breathe a word.’ She hesitated, feeling uncomfortable at what she must do now. ‘Could you lend me some money—enough to travel post-chaise to Yorkshire?’
‘Lend you—or give you?’
‘Oh, I should pay you back soon,’ Georgie said. ‘If you would do that, I could leave at once and I would not trouble you again.’
Richard’s gaze narrowed. He studied her face for a moment or two. ‘I could lend it to you,’ he said. ‘I may do if you tell me the truth. I know you told me some story of having been forced from your post as a lady’s maid because of your employer’s son, but I think you were lying to me. I don’t think you were ever a maid, were you?’
She hesitated, and then met his eyes. ‘I didn’t know you then,’ she said. It was no use, he wouldn’t believe her if she told him more lies. She was going to have to tell him the truth! ‘You could have been anyone. My real name is Georgina Bridges. My father was Sir John Bridges, my mother the youngest daughter of Lord Nairn. They were both killed in an accident two years ago—and they left a fortune in trust for me. I inherit in a few weeks’ time. My uncle, Sir Henry Mowbray, wants me to marry a man he owes money to—but I hate him, so I ran away. They want my money and they think he will give some of it to them if they make me marry him, but I know he would keep it for himself. He is so horrid…the way he looks at me makes me feel…dirty.’ She ended on a sob of distress. ‘I ran away as soon as I heard them discussing it. I would rather die than marry him.’
‘And what is the name of this man?’
‘He is a Frenchman. His name is Raoul Thierry. He seems to be a rich gentleman, but there is something sinister about him.’ Georgie shuddered. ‘I did not know what to do when I heard my aunt and uncle talking so I ran away, but then…I told you what happened. I suppose my lawyer would give me money if I asked, but he might not believe it really was me.’
Richard’s eyes went over her. ‘In your present attire I am certain you would not get past his clerk. The money isn’t a problem, Georgie. But I am not certain you are telling me the truth.’
‘I am this time! I promise I am.’
‘Even so, you are vulnerable. You obviously aren’t capable of looking after yourself.’
‘I should have gone to my great-aunt the first time. I was wrong to stop in London.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘I know you must be angry. I tied to rob you and now you are ill and you do not want the bother of me.’
‘No, I do not want the trouble of a young lady,’ Richard admitted and frowned. ‘However, Henderson told me how you helped him and I owe you for that, Georgina.’
‘Please do not call me that! My Aunt Agatha calls me Georgina and I hate it. I am Georgie—and you don’t owe me anything. I did what anyone would have in the circumstances.’
‘No, that is not strictly true. Apparently Dora nearly fainted at the sight of the blood. You did far more than I could have expected of a stranger.’
‘You gave me supper and somewhere to sleep.’
‘And by doing that you became my responsibility,’ Richard said. ‘I am confined to bed for the next week or so, but once I am on my feet I shall take you to your great-aunt.’
Georgie looked at him doubtfully. ‘You cannot want that trouble, sir. Lend me the money and I shall go alone.’
‘No, you will not,’ Richard said. ‘If you have told me the truth, you may be in some danger. Therefore it is my duty to see you safe.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Forgive me, but I am weary. Please go away now. You have my promise that I shall take you to your great-aunt when I am able. For the moment you must be patient and wait.’
Georgie stared at him for a few seconds, but he had leaned back against the pillows, his eyes closed. She placed the book of poetry on the bed and then walked softly to the door, glancing back at him as she went out. She felt frustrated, for she knew that without money she could not hope to reach her great-aunt’s house. She could go to her lawyer, but it was doubtful if he would see her in her present state of dress—and if he did he would hardly believe that she was Miss Georgina Bridges.
If she ran away again, she might starve or become ill before she could reach safety. It seemed as if she must stay here, and wait for Captain Hernshaw to recover his strength sufficiently to accompany her to Yorkshire.
Richard opened his eyes as the door closed behind her. Her story was believable enough, though she had lied to him previously. If he accepted it this time, it would be wrong to let her go anywhere alone. Besides, she had mentioned a name—a name that he had learned to associate with treason.
It could be coincidence, but it was possible that by delivering Miss Bridges to her great-aunt, he would learn more of the man—or group of men he sought.
For a moment he wondered if she had been sent to rob him that night. She had certainly tried to take the package containing new information about the plotters—perhaps the names and whereabouts of men concerned in the conspiracy to bring down the government and cause chaos in England. He had not yet had the chance to decode it, though he’d delivered it to others who might recently have done so.
They needed the information, because the plot must not succeed. With the Regent dead, as these villains planned, there would be men in England who would not hesitate to settle with the French. Napoleon Bonaparte was barely contained in his island prison of Elba, where rumour had it he reigned like a prince. If he were to break free and march again, the Allies would join together to defeat him—but if England were in chaos…
Richard knew that without the British the Allies would not stand long against Bonaparte. It was imperative that this plot be foiled and quickly before things got out of hand.
If Georgie was involved with these people, he would be best to stay close to her. His instincts told him that she was innocent—and yet she had decoded the message in the poetry book. It was that first clue that had been instrumental in alerting other members of the intelligence service that a plot was afoot. He believed that the near-fatal attack on him had been because of his involvement in the affair, but he had not seen the face of his attacker for it had been covered by a muffler and only a pair of cold eyes had been visible.
Looking into those eyes briefly, Richard had known that his life was in the balance. It was merely the sound of approaching voices that made his attacker run off before his work was done. From somewhere he had found the strength to stumble the few yards to his home, and Henderson had done the rest…with the girl’s help.
Richard frowned. If his manservant were to be believed, Georgie had done well. He’d never had cause to doubt Henderson and must therefore be grateful to her for her contribution, and she was certainly entitled to the benefit of the doubt.
Richard knew that he had been feverish, and wondered what he had said in his muddled state. Had he mentioned his work for the government…or had he spoken of more intimate things? He knew that in the fever he had thought of Justin, his cousin. He felt the sharp grief strike at his heart, because the memories were still painful. Justin had been clever, a bright future his for the asking, but he had been led astray, his mind corrupted by opium and wine. He had sunk lower and lower, beyond the reach of his studious father, until at the last they destroyed him…those evil men who had drawn him into a web of bitter despair.
Richard had been away fighting and had known nothing of it until he returned. At his uncle’s behest he had gone looking for the cousin he loved as a brother, but when he found him it had been too late. Justin had been living in squalor, lying amongst his own filth in a disgusting house, his mind destroyed, his body wasting with a disease that could not be cured. Richard had taken him to a place of safety, staying by him until the last, holding him as he choked on his own blood. The memory haunted him, would never leave him. It had made him the man he was, harsh, stern, living only for his work.
The girl was an interruption, nothing more. Yet she had touched something that had been dead, something deep inside. For a moment as she stood there smiling down at him, he had wished that he had the stre
ngth to take her in his arms and kiss her until those wonderful eyes turned smoky with desire. It was ridiculous, for, even had she not been a lady, he was as weak as a kitten. However, she had stirred his heart in a way that no one had for years—and he found that he could not simply desert her.
He sighed and closed his eyes.
There was nothing much he could do for the moment. It would be a few days at the least before he could think of getting up, let alone taking a long journey.
Chapter Three
‘But that is so silly,’ Georgie said, looking mutinously at Mrs Jensen. ‘Why will you not allow me to carry that tray up to Captain Hernshaw? I have nothing else to do and I am sure you have other jobs you could be doing.’
‘The master says it is not fitting that a young lady should wait on him in his bedchamber, and I agree with him, miss.’
Georgie scowled at her and walked away, finding her way to the front parlour where she usually sat unless she joined Henderson in the servants’ hall below stairs. He had taken pity on her a few times these past days, playing cards with her to help pass the time. But he was often busy with his duties, and since Georgie had been banned from her host’s bedchamber she was feeling bored and frustrated. More than once she had considered leaving this house and setting out on her own, but the lack of funds meant she would need to walk all the way to Yorkshire, which she knew was impossible, or hitch a ride—and that was too dangerous.
‘Oh, damn him,’ Georgie muttered. She wandered round the room at a loss for something to do, and ended up standing in front of the window. As she glanced down into the street, she saw a man crossing the road towards the house and flinched back. Was he coming here? Did he know she was staying here? Surely he couldn’t?
She felt a thrill of horror as the knocker sounded. He was coming here! She opened the parlour door and listened, poised for flight and hearing the sound of Jensen’s voice as the man inquired for Captain Hernshaw.
‘I am sorry, sir,’ Jensen said. ‘Captain Hernshaw is not available at the moment. If you would like to leave your card, I shall tell him you called.’
