Easing out of Archie’s arms was the last thing she really wanted to do but she couldn’t voice a protest when he slowly moved away. Her earlier decision not to throw herself at him again forced her to simply nod and appear at ease as she moved away from his sheltering warmth and entered the busy tap room of the inn.
People were scurrying about this way and that, with nobody paying them the slightest bit of attention as they crossed the hallway and climbed the stairs. Everyone that is, except for the solitary man who was watching carefully from the far corner of the room.
The following morning, Portia rolled over in bed trying to remember the last time she had slept so soundly. The meal she had shared with Cecily and Archie last night had been plentiful, with delightfully relaxing conversation.
Although Archie had revealed nothing about himself per se, he had shared amusing anecdotes of his exploits as a young boy with a penchant for climbing trees. It dawned on Portia as she sat listening to him, watching his chiselled features in the flickering candlelight, that he must have been watching her from the tree. He reluctantly admitted it had been the tree she had been standing under, and that caused her amusement and alarm in equal measure.
It was slightly unnerving to realise that she had been so close to a watchful stranger and not known of his presence. Although she understood the usefulness of such a tactic, she knew then what risks he had taken in breaking his cover, and chasing after her in an attempt to prevent her from becoming the Frenchmen’s next victim.
Although she was grateful she had a saviour, she was aware that they were soon to part company. The pang of loss she felt at the thought of not seeing him again felt a little like grief. It was so strong that she wanted to cry out aloud in protest before common sense replaced her instinctive gesture, and rendered her silent once more.
She wondered briefly what her father was doing right now. His rage would have driven him to scour the village for his wayward daughters. Portia wondered if he had called their prospective husbands; his cronies; to help with the search, and closed the thought off with a shudder of revulsion. Whatever happened, she had no intention of ever returning to Tissington.
The loud rumbling of her stomach urged her out of bed and, within minutes, she had seen to her ablutions before drawing back the shutters. She paused for a moment to study the hustle and bustle on the market street below. Although there weren’t as many stall holders, traders still hawked their goods with dextrous ease as people milled about randomly. Strangely, the market town didn’t seem that large. Portia wondered where everyone came from as they all seemed intent upon their purpose in life, each one of them striding this way and that.
She was about to turn away, when she caught sight of a brief flurry of movement in the alleyway opposite. Instinctively shying away from the window, she peered through a crack in the shutters and kept her eye trained on the dark shadows between the butchery and the undertakers opposite. She didn’t have to wait long before a man walked out of the alleyway. At first glance, he appeared to be no different to anyone else, but there was something about the furtive way he kept looking around him, and especially at the inn where she was standing, that raised alarm bells. She wondered if he was one of the Guards who had followed them this far. The thought made her shiver, and she moved away from the shutters, striding quickly across the room.
“Archie! Archie!” She cried, yanking the door to her room open. She had no sooner crossed the thresh hold than Archie appeared in the doorway opposite, a dark frown of concern on his face.
“What is it?” Archie stalked across the hallway, gun drawn. A quick check of the room behind her showed it to be empty. He turned wary eyes upon her and waited. Clearly she was upset about something.
“There was someone loitering in the alleyway opposite,” Portia gasped, pointing toward the window with shaking fingers. She moved to the stop where she had been standing and pointed through the crack in the shutters toward the narrow alleyway she had seen the furtive movements, only seconds earlier. “There were two men, in the alleyway over there. It wasn’t that they were dressed differently or anything, it was just that when one of the men left they were furtive and kept glancing around them as though looking for something, or someone. They kept looking over here.”
Archie listened, his heightened senses ringing alarmingly. Although he tried to keep his face impassive, the tale she was telling him was all too reminiscent of his previous experiences. It warned him that danger was imminent and they hadn’t been as adept at evading capture as he had hoped.
Nodding warily, he hated to alarm Portia, but she was no fool. “We need to move,” he warned, mentally planning a list of things he needed to do before they went anywhere. He wished he could secure the ladies somewhere safer while he carried out his tasks, but knew that his options were limited. Even if he could get the ladies to remain where he left them, there was clearly someone watching, and that person was adept at trailing people. If Archie was really honest, he wasn’t surprised that they had been followed. Although he had gone as fast as the horse would allow, they had travelled throughout the night and anyone giving chase on horseback would have caught up with them, and followed them easily. That left Archie with the problem of trying to figure out what – or who, they were waiting for.
If they were trained French Guards sent to finish Manton’s job, they would have struck by now. The situation they were now in was being driven by some unforeseen force that was far more dangerous, mainly because he had no idea who it was. His thoughts turned back to the tap room they walked through last night, and he wondered if one of the occupants hadn’t been local. Right now, it was impossible to tell, and it was going to achieve nothing to head out at with the ladies in the carriage once more. Not only would his colleagues have no way of knowing where to find them, but they would easily be followed on to their next location. In all conscience, he couldn’t expect the ladies to spend day after day moving aimlessly around in a carriage. Even if he ignored the fact that they could be accosted by the side of the road in a remote spot where Archie would be significantly outnumbered and the outcome would be dire for all three of them, it wouldn’t be all that comfortable for any of them.
At the inn, there were at least a few places to hide, and several different locations they could move to. He knew that he had to go on a little reconnaissance mission, but was loathe to leave the ladies on their own. He cursed the luck that seemed to have abandoned him again, and wondered, for the hundredth time that day, when reinforcements would arrive.
“Get ready to leave at a moment’s notice,” he warned darkly and watched as Portia looked askance at him and shook her head. “What?”
“We don’t exactly have anything to pack,” she replied ruefully, motioning down at her soiled dress with alacrity. She was very aware of her dishevelled stated and hated to draw attention to her lack of possessions, but there were essentials she and Cecily needed, and she had no intention of allowing Archie to go out and get them for her.
Archie mentally winced and realised his faux pas. With any of his colleagues, they would have just done without until their situation improved, but he couldn’t expect the ladies to do that for him. That posed another problem. He couldn’t exactly go out alone and shop for ladies’ apparel without drawing the attention of half the town. It left him with little option but to either insist they did without for now, or take them out into the market to purchase the provisions they needed. He had more than enough funds on him to cover the necessities but, given that he had no idea how long he would be responsible for them, and just how many rooms he would need to purchase, he couldn’t spend a fortune on kitting them out the way they deserved. Biting back a curse of impatience, he put his hands on his hips and studied her carefully.
“I have an idea,” he murmured moments later, waving a curious Cecily into the room. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He didn’t wait for her agreement, and raced down the corridor, slamming to a halt when he came across a maid. He gave the
maid his most seductive smile, and was rewarded when she positively simpered beneath the force of his most effective flirtation. A few whispered comments and a coin or two was all it took and, after a few brief moments, he left the flustered maid to carry out her allotted task.
Portia watched Archie return to the room and wondered what he was up to now. She had no idea how they were going to get out of their current predicament. She had been studying the busy thoroughfare below and knew that there were at least two more strangers milling around. Those strangers were now watching the inn’s entrance. Somehow, the French Guards had found them and Archie knew it.
CHAPTER NINE
They ate luncheon in an almost uncomfortable silence. Portia could feel Cecily’s worry, and wanted to reassure her only to find the words of comfort wouldn’t materialise. She could think of nothing to say that would ease the fear, because she too was feeling the growing tension. Although Archie wouldn’t acknowledge it, he was also growing increasingly tense, and that showed on his handsome face that had become more and more stern as the meal progressed. He lurched to his feet at the quiet knock on the door and, rather than asking the visitor to enter, stepped into the corridor to talk to them, closing the door behind him carefully for several long minutes.
Cecily looked askance at Portia, who merely shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Not for the first time, she wondered if they were doing the right thing by placing so much trust in the man. Despite his assurance that Portia wouldn’t be facing a lengthy jail term, or the hangman’s noose, he wasn’t a man of authority, and had no legal standing in which to make such a statement. So who was he talking to?
They watched as Archie re-appeared moments later with several packets in his arms. Depositing them onto the bed, he turned toward them.
“I know it is going to go against everything you would consider suitable, but I want you to wear these clothes. I am going to give you a brief course in how to act, and what to do and, when you are ready, we are going to leave here.”
“But where will we go?”
“Further down the road. We will head toward my associates, who are undoubtedly heading this way.” Archie certainly hoped that they would be heading this way. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out by himself. Their situation was dire, and his options were, once again, very limited. They could try to wait it out, but Archie knew that at some point the Guards would lose patience and enter the inn to search for them. That would leave Archie with one massive problem because they were already on the top floor. Although staying on the uppermost floor served its purpose and ensured they stayed away from the curious gazes of the other guests, it also left them with nowhere to go in the event of an attack.
With a sigh of impatience, Archie stood back and allowed the ladies to inspect the items. The maid had done a good job and had purchased exactly what he had asked for, and a few small fripperies besides. The ladies each now had brushes, as well as a change of clothing.
“What on earth?” Portia stared up at the brown breeches and dog-eared jacket she was holding and tried not to let her revulsion show. It was something her grandfather would wear - dead. Despite her horror, she couldn’t smother the grin that broke free at the sight of Cecily holding up an equally horrible green jacket and a pair of breeches that had been best friends with moths for quite some time, and didn’t appear to have ever been washed. Portia’s nose wrinkled at the slightly fusty odour that was coming from the pea-green material and suddenly began to look at her own offering with fresh eyes.
“Ladies, I’ll leave you to get dressed,” Archie announced, heading for the door before they could start shrieking at him. He fought hard to suppress his smile at the sight of the ladies’ faces when they saw their new outfits, and wondered just how they would take to following through with his latest scheme.
If they went along with it, and did as they were told, there was hope for them yet.
The evening wore on with more hilarity and jocularity than their situation really called for. After their initial hesitation had worn off, the ladies had donned their new apparel and, after a bit of teasing, had entered into the spirit of the adventure. When Archie had returned and seen them, he had immediately burst out laughing, and that humour had not eased throughout the evening.
The sight of Portia wearing the thick, coarse work shirt, tightly laced up to her neck and the over-long breeches that clung to her hips with the aid of a piece of rope, made her look like a small child who hadn’t quite grown up enough to fit the second hand clothing. He had helped her tuck her breeches into the long boots, and unlaced her shirt enough to allow her to breathe properly. Having assisted Cecily in much the same way, they had spent the rest of the evening walking around the small square room with hunched shoulders, and staggered walks that were downright comical to watch.
By the time midnight chimed on the mantle clock, both ladies were exhausted, and had just about grasped their new personas. Archie had been impressed to watch the diligence and dogged determination they had both put into perfecting their roles, the end result being a disguise that would fool anyone, including the French.
“I think you had better get whatever sleep you can, ladies, we are leaving at first light.”
“Won’t they still consider us suspicious, I mean, you with two old men, rather than two women?” Cecily asked, frowning down at her breeches that itched like mad.
“We are going to leave, one by one,” Archie replied reluctantly. “There is a mail coach that leaves here at first light. You, Cecily, are going to get on it and get off at Little Marchant, about ten miles down the road. I will be around and about out there and will make sure that you aren’t stopped. Although given what you are wearing, I doubt anyone will notice you. You, Portia, are going to ride a horse. We will head out of the village in a circuitous route, and then double back and follow the mail coach.”
“But what do I do in Little Marchant by myself if you are waylaid?” Cecily asked, not liking the sound of this particular adventure.
“Go to the nearest inn, hire a private room and stay there. Eat, drink, but whatever you do, insist on the room being private. Nobody is to know you are there. Wait, and I will find you. We should be with you within a couple of hours at the latest.”
Archie handed her several coins before turning to Portia, and giving her an equal amount. He hated the thought of leaving her on her own while he escorted Cecily to the mail coach but there was little he could do. Like Cecily had just pointed out, if they travelled together, the three of them would raise suspicion however they were dressed.
“But I don’t ride,” Portia protested. It had been something she had always wanted to do, but her father had forbidden her to at least try.
“You don’t need to do anything but sit on the horse; the horse will do the rest. We will be going across country, so should arrive about the same time as Cecily. We can travel roughly along the route of the mail coach so can keep an eye on her from a distance.” He didn’t add that there would be very little he could do if the Guards decided to search the coach, but it wasn’t Cecily they were after, it was Portia.
“What if we are followed?” Portia asked weakly, feeling a little sick at the thought of being chased by killers.
“Then we will meet up with Cecily in Little Marchant, and keep moving.” Archie bit back a sigh of impatience. While he could understand the ladies’ concern, there were some things that just had to unfold around them and be dealt with at the time. He could make all the plans in the world, and waste time doing them, but they would all come to nothing if the Guards became unpredictable.
“Get some sleep,” he ordered sharply, heading toward the door. “Whatever you do, stay in this room together. I’m going to keep watch. It will help if you are in the same room.” He didn’t add that it would help him keep his hands off the delectable, Portia, knowing that she wasn’t alone. The sight of her wearing the baggy breeches was downright tempting and, although they didn’t outline her feminine
shape, they did emphasise the length of her long legs, her narrow waist and ample bosom.
He wanted her, and it was the last thing he needed.
The following morning Archie yawned widely and blinked against the burning in his eyes. He had watched a patrol saunter down the main street several times throughout the night, and now knew that they were keeping watch rather than preparing to strike. They had clearly been given orders not to kill the ladies yet, and were probably waiting for further instruction. It pointed to the fact that Manton’s replacement, or second in command, either wasn’t in the area yet, or was himself waiting for further orders from hierarchy. It made Archie’s need to hand the ladies over to his colleagues and return to Tissington even more important.
Portia donned her disguise, well aware of the heightened tension that hovered in the air. This morning there was no humour to be found in their new personas, and little mirth to be found in the day that lay before them. Whatever the outcome, they were taking great risks and all of them knew it.
“Whatever happens, Portia, I want you to know that I am very glad you are my sister.” Cecily’s nerves had clearly built throughout the restless night, and she now stood trembling slightly as the prospect of leaving became real.
“Don’t start all that,” Portia chided gently, taking Cecily’s slender hands in hers. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see. The worst you have to do is sit in a carriage and allow a coachman to drive you. I have to place my trust in a horse.”
Handing Cecily her jacket, Portia donned her own, taking a little longer than was necessary with her buttons while she tried to gather her emotions. She could understand Cecily’s fear, but in all conscience, she couldn’t offer her the reassurances that she was looking for. All either of them could hope for was that Archie’s associates would arrive soon, and help them. Archie looked so tired this morning that Portia wondered how he remained upright. From the look of him, he hadn’t even managed a quick nap, and that bothered her more than she cared to admit.
His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series) Page 12
