“She will miss you, too.”
Irene smiled. “I am touched to think that might be the case. Though, of course, we shall have to part eventually.” She pulled her hand away.
James did not want to let it go.
An uncomfortable silence followed. James wanted to refute her statement, but she was correct. Nothing had changed. They were simply getting closer to the day when they would say good-bye. He studied the woman across from him, who was still something of a mystery. “Why do you not marry? While I do not doubt that the vast majority of men are not worthy of you, I have to think there are some candidates who would not be that bad. Still not worthy of you. But a better alternative than….” He wasn’t sure how to word what he was thinking.
“A better alternative than staying in a home where my father barely acknowledges my existence and my grandmother only pays enough attention to criticize me?”
“Well….yes.”
“My current life is not ideal, but who’s to say that life with a husband would be appreciably better than what I have now? For some women, it is much, much worse. There are many things you cannot tell about a person until you live with him. You cannot know how a man would act when you are, by all intents and purposes, his property. That may be a slight exaggeration, but not much.”
“I am afraid you are right on that account. We have long worried about our sister Winifred, Mrs. Pierce. Do you know her?”
“Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure.”
“None of us has had the pleasure of Win’s company in a long time.” And when he returned to America, he would not have the chance of helping her if she needed him. He might not even see her again for many years. It was too depressing to contemplate. “I hope you find that which you seek, Irene. You certainly deserve to be happy.”
“As do you,” she said.
They settled into a not-quite comfortable silence for much of the journey, which would last most of the day. When they did speak, most of their conversation centered on what they thought Anna might be doing and what she would think of the sights they passed. But at last they came to the embarkation point for the island city on the south coast of Hampshire. James and Irene got out of the carriage to stretch their legs.
“It is much larger than I thought,” said Irene looking out at the island.
“Portsmouth has the unique distinction of being even more crowded than London, though of a smaller population. It is one of the busiest ports in Europe.”
Irene wrinkled her nose at the foul smell that had just wafted toward them with the shifting wind. “Is it this, uh, fragrant on the island itself?”
“I fear the island will smell every bit as bad as it does now, if not worse. It is a major port for fishermen wishing to offload their cargo.”
“It smells like they were rather successful.” She put her handkerchief to her nose.
“It does. But the fish may cover up even more unpleasant odors. The prison hulks are just offshore.” He pointed to five large ships sitting low in the water.
Irene moved closer to him. “They’re awaiting transportation?”
“Some are. They might remain there for weeks, months or even years, awaiting the funds to make the journey.”
“The poor souls.”
James looked at her. “Many of the occupants would slit your throat for fun, as well as commit other crimes I do not care to speak of.”
“True,” she said carefully. “Yet some others simply had the ill fortune to be born poor and were caught stealing to survive. Should they suffer such a fate? Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Not many women of your class would have compassion for people born into poverty.”
“I would like to remind you that we are of the same class.”
“But I have little use for my title.”
“That does not change the fact that we were born into a world of privilege that others can only dream of. The fact that you chose to escape your surroundings and I am more or less trapped by mine is what is of interest here.”
“Many things are of interest here,” he said, as he pulled off his right glove. He touched her cheek, flushed with the cold. He wanted to kiss her, standing on the bluff, looking down on the city that would determine his fate. He wanted to spend more time with her as friends, until the moment when she would likely turn away from him when she learned the truth about her brother.
He lowered his lips toward hers…
“My lord,” said Layton’s coachman. “If I might have a word?”
James did not want to have a word with anyone. He wanted to kiss Irene. But she had already stepped away from him. Layton’s servant had damnable timing. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to her.
He made his way to the coachman, Murphy. He wasn’t the friendliest man, but he was a competent driver.
“Yes, Murphy?” James asked.
“We was just talking to the ostler of the inn across the way and he says there’s a carriage tax to enter Portsmouth. A sizable one. And if you reckon we’ll need to remain overnight…”
“I believe we must. It could even be two nights or more.”
“Well, that’ll cost even more coin since it’s more expensive to stable the horses and such over there than here. I thought it might be best if you and Miss Wallace was to take the ferry over, whilst Creighton and I stayed here.”
“Are the accommodations here suitable for you?” asked James, as he looked over the nearby inn.
“Good enough. And it’s not like we have a lot of choice, do we? The innkeeper says he can put this on Lord Layton’s account.”
James stiffened. “I do not want Lord Layton to have to pay for this.”
“With all due respect, my lord, I don’t know how you can avoid it.”
James inwardly flinched at the answer. But Murphy was right. It could take days to find Adams. If the innkeeper was willing to take credit, who was he to argue? He would find a way to make this up to Nick.
“Thank you, Murphy. I shall make arrangements with the innkeeper. When you see to the horses, please be sure that you and Creighton get a hot meal.”
He made his way back to Irene, who had wandered down the road a bit.
“Trying to run away? You shan’t get far in this snow, I fear.”
“I thought I recognized someone.”
That brought James up short. “Did someone from London see you with me?”
She shook her head. “I do not even know who it was. He just looked….familiar. And he was staring at me.”
He pulled her closer to him. A part of him knew that if it was someone Irene knew from London, he should distance himself from her. But the protective part of him wanted to keep her close. “I cannot imagine that having a man stare at you is an unusual experience.”
“Is that your way of complimenting me, my lord? I shall have to make a note of it and keep it under my pillow.”
“You didn’t keep anything under your pillow at the dower house.”
“I will thank you to not remind me of our previous accommodations,” she said. She looked down the road again. “Perhaps I am mistaken. But it was odd.”
“Then there is likely something to it. The frontier taught me to trust my instincts. If you see him again, please tell me.”
“I will.”
“Now, if you will join me, a ferry ride awaits.”
*
The ferry was crowded and the wind from the ocean was cold, but Irene was enveloped by James’s warmth. He shielded her as much as possible from the jostling that came with too many people crowded onto too small of a boat. And when a young man leered at her, the stripling was suddenly made aware of the muscled man beside her. The poor young man looked so shaken he almost fell overboard in his haste to get away.
James was being too protective.
But Irene couldn’t say she minded.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked, even as he pulled her closer to him.
Suddenly she was much wa
rmer. She decided to turn her mind to things other than the man beside her. “There are a great many naval ships here. Are there always?”
“It has long been a strategic stronghold. There will be an excess of naval men in the area, which is another reason why I want you on my arm at all times. It would not be safe for you otherwise.”
She had to admit there were benefits to being on James’s arm that had nothing to do with safety.
“Do you think your Mr. Adams is still in gaol?”
“I don’t know. We may have missed him.”
She put her hand on his arm and gently squeezed. “We could not have avoided the delay. I hope we find him. I hope you get your answers.”
“So do I, Irene. So do I.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When they finally reached Portsmouth after the rough crossing, James found it was even worse than he’d remembered from his previous visits. He could only imagine what Irene was thinking.
A whaling ship was in the midst of carving up its capture, a majestic beast who’d required two dozen harpoons to bring it down. The fishermen went about their work, oblivious to not only the animal’s plight, but the mess of blood and entrails that spewed forth. James put his arm around Irene just as she was about to faint.
“I should never have brought you here,” said James, cursing himself for having done so.
“Nonsense. I just was unprepared for…well, everything. Light is fading fast. Should we secure lodgings, perhaps at an inn far from the docks?”
“That may be difficult given we are on an island, but we can at least try.”
They walked through the crowded streets until they found an establishment called the Harpoon Hole. Though James never would have stayed there in normal circumstances, Portsmouth was not a normal town.
“The Harpoon Hole?” said Irene. “Is this an inn for whalers do you think?”
James had to cough to hide his laugh. He sometimes forgot that Irene was a lady not accustomed to bawdy humor. “I believe it is something like that.”
When they entered, James was pleasantly surprised to find a small but clean reception area, with a busy tap. It was frequented by sailors, but, from the looks of it, a few shopkeepers and even some ladies, as well. “It appears to be popular with the locals, which should lessen our chances of becoming ill from the fare. I hope the rooms are clean.”
The innkeeper, Mr. Mayhew, was pleasant enough. He had five rooms to let, including one on the opposite side of the building, which, according to Mayhew, had the more pleasant winds.
“That should do nicely,” said James, though he doubted the more pleasant winds would be all that palatable, either.
“I imagine your lady wife will like it a good deal better,” said the jovial Mr. Mayhew, with a wink for James and a deferential nod for Irene. “This sea air can take some getting used to.”
“Thank you,” said James, as he gave the man coins for the night. Colin had refilled James’s purse, which he’d appreciated even though he’d hated going further into debt to his brother.
Once Mr. Mayhew left, Irene asked “Why did you get only the one room? I know funds are scarce, but I can pay for my own. Though I certainly hope you do not take offense at my raising the subject. I have said all along I would like to pay my own way.”
James sighed. “You have a certain stubbornness that will most certainly bedevil your future husband.”
“It shan’t be a problem since I plan to choose a husband who will appreciate my self-assured nature.”
“There is no way I would permit you to have your own bedchamber in this inn without even a maid to share the room. It has nothing to do with money. It is a safety issue.”
“This inn seems respectable enough.”
“But one can never tell for certain. I will never risk your safety. Ever.”
“Who is being stubborn now?”
“I prefer to think of it as protective and, no, I will not apologize. You and I are sharing a bedchamber and most likely a bed. Now let us see if we can find Mr. Adams.”
There were only about two hours of daylight left when they set out for the local gaol, which had formerly been the city stables. Though growing more accustomed to the stench of the town, it was still an unpleasant surprise when they entered the building.
“I believe,” said Irene, holding her lavender-scented handkerchief under her nose, “that this may have smelled better when horses were boarded here.”
“And no doubt they were better behaved than the current occupants of the building,” said James. “I must renew my objection to your being here.”
“And I must continue to ignore you.”
They approached the sergeant at the desk.
“Excuse me,” said James, to a man who was thumbing through a picture book of bawdy ladies, while drinking something that smelled like it could combust if coming within one hundred feet of a flame. “We are here to inquire about a prisoner. Or perhaps a former one. I do not know if he is still here.”
The sergeant caught sight of Irene and smiled, revealing a complete lack of teeth on his upper jaw.
James continued. “We are looking for a Mr. Adams, whom we believe was arrested close to two weeks ago.”
“Wot was it ‘e done?”
“I am not sure, but he had arrived recently from America.”
“That don’t narrow it down much, seein’ as ‘ow Americer is filled with the criminal element.” He smiled again at Irene. “Yer a pretty lady, ain’t ye?”
“This is my wife,” growled James, as he put his arm around her.
“Don’t mean ‘er no insult. Jus’ statin’ a fact. Do ye want me to look up this bloke fer ye? I can read an’ ever’thin’.”
“That would be lovely,” said Irene.
“An’thin’ fer ye, ma’am,” he said good-naturedly. He opened a book that looked like it had been kept unwisely close to the receptacle for chewing tobacco.
‘’Bout two weeks ago, ye said?”
“About that.”
The sergeant leafed through the pages until he found the approximate date, then ran a dirty finger down the ledger. “Do this Mr. Adams ‘ave a Christian name?”
“Frederick.”
“Fancy bloke, eh?” The clerk continued searching. “ere ‘e is. Arrested two hours after dockin’. Disorderly conduct at a bawdy….” Here he looked at Irene and colored. “At an entertainment establishment.”
“And what was his sentence?” asked James.
“Ten days.”
“So he was released,” said James with an inward grown. “Do you have a forwarding address?”
“None was listed.”
James’s heart clenched. Then Irene took his hand in hers.
“So you have no idea where he went?” she asked.
“I ‘ave no idear where ‘e went when ‘e was released. But I do know ‘e was back ‘ere three days after that.”
“Is he still here?” asked Irene excitedly.
“Not fer that offense. ‘e served ‘is time and was released. And before you ask, I don’t know where ‘e went. See, we don’t care about their whereabouts when they leave. We jus’ ‘ave to keep track of ‘em while they’re ‘ere.”
“I do not suppose he re-offended,” said James.
“I don’t take yer meaning.”
“Is he, by any chance, here again?”
The sergeant checked the ledger again. “’e is, at that! Set to be free tomorrow, ‘e is. Should I ask ‘im where ‘es goin’? Or jus’ wait til ‘e’s back again.”
“Actually we were hoping to speak to him.”
“Both of ye? A gaol ain’t no place fer a lady.”
“Do you have any type of meeting room? Perhaps where solicitors meet with clients?”
“Aye. We got one of them. But it’s past visitin’ hours. Can’t ye wait until ‘e’s released?”
James was half tempted to hit the man, so he could talk to Adams on the inside. It seemed the quicker way to do things. B
ut before he could do so, Irene spoke up.
“Please, sir, if you could arrange to have us meet with him we would be most appreciative.”
Then she smiled at him and, as James could personally attest, there wasn’t a man alive immune to that smile.
“Lemme see what I can do,” the sergeant said, blushing. At least James assumed he was blushing. It was hard to tell with the layer of grime on the man’s face. The sergeant reached out to touch Irene’s hand, only to be stopped by James’s much larger one.
“I do not believe that is a good idea,” James said in a tone that could not be misinterpreted.
The sergeant gulped, then left his post.
“I do hope you have not frightened him away,” said Irene.
“I believe he’ll get over it.”
“He just wanted to pat my hand in a reassuring way.”
“First, you do not know where his hand has been and I suspect ignorance is indeed bliss in that regard. Second, no one touches you except me.”
She narrowed her eyes, yet did not contradict him.
Which James took as a personal victory and an interesting one, at that.
Irene looked around the crowded entry way, taking note of the shouting match between an elderly woman and a harried clerk, two constables who were having a disagreement over darts that looked like it could erupt in fisticuffs at any moment, and what appeared to be a drunken young man relieving himself against the wall.
She quickly averted her eyes and turned back to James. “I have to wonder just what your Mr. Adams did to actually be arrested for disorderly conduct. I am not certain we’ve seen orderly conduct since we arrived in Portsmouth.”
“Perhaps it is a story unfit for a lady’s ears.”
“I am surprised you do not know by now that I am not your typical lady.”
“Trust me. I am aware of that fact.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He could feel the spark between them, could see the excitement in her eyes at the casual contact.
The sergeant reappeared, looking like he’d made an attempt to comb his hair. “If ye’ll follow me yer ladyship.” At James’s fierce look, he added, “And yer lordship.”
Always True to Her (Emerson Book 2) Page 17
