~.~
Samuel and Percy planned the London trip with care. They decided that Percy would take both books and all of the relevant papers and ride at night for London that very night. It was the best way to keep his health a secret, but riding at night always had some risk.
Samuel wrote a letter to his father, and Percy took it. “I will speak to him,” Percival said. “Show him what you and Amelia have made of the cyphers.”
“We will be in London in four days,” he reminded Percy. “As early as we can… You need to find the contraband before that. Once we get there, I expect we’ll be in the devil’s own scrape. I don’t expect The Duke to leave me and Amelia in peace and I will have to speak with him directly.”
“I know,” Percy said.
“Don’t end in a ditch somewhere, traveling in the dark,” Samuel said.
“Now, you sound like mother,” Percival joked.
Samuel scoffed. “We are counting on you,” he said. “And I don’t want to be the bloody earl.”
Percival grinned. “Aye, Sir,” he teased.
“Don’t get cheeky,” Samuel said.
“I know,” Percy said sobering. “These people are serious. I was poisoned, remember.” Percival gripped his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t like you being in danger either, Sam. You will have a target on your back once you get to Town.”
“They aren’t going to poison me, or run me down with a carriage.”
“No. You are more likely to get a knife in your back.”
“That is a chance you take on the docks,” Samuel said. “It’s never totally safe, and it would be normal for me to go there, Percy. Besides, I want someone to protect us when we get to London, someone to protect Amelia.” If I can’t, was implied in his words.
“Nonetheless,” Percival replied. “Be careful.”
“I will,” Samuel said pushing the house seal into the wax of the second letter and handing it to Percy. “This one is for mother,” Samuel said. “I told her to meet us in London, and that you will be staying with her for secrecy. She is probably beside herself if she has heard the rumors of your demise. I told her only you were ill, no details.”
Percy chuckled and placed the letters in the leather satchel. “She’s still in Bath,” Percival predicted. “I’ll post the letter when I get to Town.”
“What about Lady Patience? Should I give her any word?” Samuel asked as they walked together to the stable.
“I will speak to her once she arrives in London,” Percival promised.
Samuel said nothing, but looked up at the moon. It was a bright half circle that would keep the road at least partially lit. The groom brought out Percy’s horse, all tacked and ready to go. He had been riding the mount since he was a lad, and the beast was a sensible thing. Percival tightened the straps of the satchel and checked the girth. The groom gave him a leg up. There was nothing else to do.
“Godspeed,” Samuel said finally.
“And you brother.”
Percy touched the horse with his heels and it moved into a steady trot. Within moments it was lost to the night.
Samuel watched his brother go, thinking he would have the longest four days of his life in front of him. He was not made for stillness.
~.~
Samuel was up at the break of dawn and after swallowing a cold breakfast which could have been procured on a ship, he made his way to Aunt Ebba’s country home to escort the women to London. He pushed the horses a little harder than he should have, considering the load they would have to pull to London, but he was anxious to assure himself that Amelia was well.
“Where is Lord Beresford?” Patience asked, concerned. “Is he well? I thought he was joining us.”
“He is fine,” Samuel assured her. “He had some business to attend to. My mother is also returning to London. Rest assured he will call on you at his earliest convenience.”
Patience beamed.
Eventually, everything was packed and ready to go. Samuel had hoped to be on their way at least an hour ago, and was agitated when they finally got moving. He had also hoped to be able to talk freely with Amelia, but that too was frustrated by the presence of the other two women. He didn’t want to worry them with talk of cypher books and murder, but after mulling it over for the last three and a half days he was edgy himself.
The conversation in the carriage revolved around which events were still to come in the London Season, and which of those events Amelia could in good taste attend. Aunt Ebba fussed over which of Amelia’s evening gowns could be made suitable for mourning attire or at least half mourning; perhaps some Aunt Ebba’s own could be refitted. Aunt Ebba had expected Amelia to be overjoyed with the conversation, but she seemed tense. Samuel reached out, his fingertips touching her cheek. She leaned against his touch for a moment; then shook his hand away.
“Are you not excited to go back to London?” Aunt Ebba asked.
“Of course,” she said automatically, but her heart was not wholly convinced. Of course it would normally be wonderful to be in London, but she was not ready to return to town, to face everyone there, to see the places she used to frequent, places where she, the queen of the ball, would no longer reign; but for her father, she would endure. For her father, she could even face Uncle Declan.
The more Aunt Ebba chattered on about wedding plans, the more reticent she became. Samuel tried to engage Lady Patience about Percival, but she blushed and stuttered. Eventually conversation dwindled and Amelia began to nod off. She was trying so hard to sit straight and proper, but eventually she lost the battle.
Samuel’s jaw ached. He had been gritting his teeth through the last hour of the carriage ride. Both Aunt Ebba and Lady Patience had nodded off across from him. He would have used this time to talk to Amelia, but she had fallen asleep too. He supposed, like himself, she was not getting much sleep lately. This would not have been a problem, but her head had lolled over onto his shoulder after a particularly bumpy section of road. Now he had to stay as still, lest he wake her.
He had wrapped his arm around Amelia to keep her from falling and now, his arm was asleep, a mass of tingling, but in sleep, her face had softened. It was breathtaking and proud, worthy of a figurehead. Worst of all, or perhaps best of all, one of her sleeves had fallen down her shoulder, exposing an expanse of cream-colored skin, completely unblemished. It was likely the shoulder had never felt another man’s touch, which filled Samuel with an intense desire to touch it.
He sighed. Even asleep, the woman could drive him mad.
Once at Aunt Ebba’s London townhouse, he saw the ladies settled.
“Is your husband in town?” he asked Aunt Ebba, and she assured him that he was. It gave Samuel some measure of comfort that the women would not be alone.
He spoke briefly with Amelia to reassure her and then bid her good night with a promise that he would arrive in the morning to put on a show of looking for houses. They would have time to talk more in the carriage. He would have loved to stay and simply spend the evening with her, but it was imperative that he go to the docks tonight. Already too much time had passed.
~.~
Chapter Four
The London port on the Thames was still busy when Samuel arrived which was just as he planned. He made himself well seen along the boardwalk, greeting some of the other officers he knew in passing from other ships. He made himself very visible to draw out any of the men who may be in the employ of The Duke. He did not see any of Percy’s men searching the docks, but he supposed that was a good thing.
The salt air was as familiar as his own breath, as he worked his way around the docks. He had no specific destination, but rather, he wanted to seem like he was surveying the whole of the area. In a very brief period of time, he actually began to relax. The smell of fish, from the whale blubber being rendered and fishermen’s sale huts filled his nose as the wind shifted along the docks. The shouts of sailors reminded him of home. He did not belong in a rich manse. He belonged here. Here he did not
need to watch his step or his words. Here he could be himself. He was not an earl’s son. He was simply Commander Beresford.
Still, family was family, and Percy needed him, and now there was the Lady Amelia Atherton to consider…and the other Amelia he loved just as well, his fine ship. One day she would be truly his. He looked up at his proud ship in the harbor.
He could not help but look for something amiss, even though that was not his intent here tonight. There were several possibilities in his mind as to the cause of the trouble and none would bode well for Lady Amelia. It bothered him that his brother had any business with the illegal activity. He felt the danger as a chill creeping up the back of his neck. He had no intension of involving a lady in the affair, especially not his lady. He shook his head. When had he begun to think of the irascible Lady Amelia as his? Perhaps when she suggested they should pretend to be betrothed. He smiled wryly thinking of the flush of heat in her kiss before she had remembered herself.
He attempted to bring his mind back to the matter at hand. The cypher was not specific, but he could surmise that the contraband, whatever it was, would be in one of the warehouses along the West India Docks. Was it munitions? With the threat of war still looming that was a possibility, or maybe some other valuables. Most items he could think of might entice a sailor, but not a duke, and none of them would be worth killing a man over, especially not a member of the Peerage.
He, or rather Percy and the guard, should be able to locate the cargo, since ships were often caught in a kind of maritime traffic jam for weeks on end, the warehouses were paramount to allow ships to discharge their goods and move on, but why the secrecy and code books. Why murder. There was only one reason he could think of. The cargo at that warehouse could only be something that by its very possession was a risk of life and limb.
He made himself alert to any unusual activity on the waterfront, but saw none. The rhythmic clop clop of the ships rolling to the waves against the docks was soothing. The ships docked were varied: but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Seamen and wenches populated the boardwalk, talking in loud rough voices. Some were already drunk.
He walked towards the cluster of establishments where he knew he could find members of his own crew and perhaps even friends.
“Ensign Carlton! White!” Samuel exclaimed as he saw a few of the men from his ship. He knew them marginally well, but as a Commander, did not generally mingle with them. They were Danny Carlton and George White, both young ensigns.
The two men paused a bit uncomfortably, came to attention but did not salute as neither was in uniform, and Samuel was also in civvies. “Commander,” they addressed him. He was not used to socializing with the crew, but he would feel better with men he knew at his back.
“Commander,” Ensign Danny Carlton said politely.
Another seaman from his ship caught up to them, patting White on the back and urging him to come have a drink. He saw Commander Beresford and snapped to attention. It took Samuel a moment to place the man, another Ensign, Jerry Walter. “We have missed you, Commander,” he said.
“My brother has been ill, Samuel replied. “And I’ve had family business.”
“You aren’t going to leave us for Lords now are you, Sir?” Ensign Carlton asked. “We have heard rumors…” Carlton hesitated “Rumors that your brother is bad off.”
“Or dead,” Ensign George White added tastelessly. “You may be the heir.”
“We’re all sorry to hear…” Ensign Jerry Walters broke in.
Samuel’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like that the rumors were that his brother was near death, or dead, but on the other hand, that particular rumor was planned to protect Percy and to keep his presence in London a secret; at least for a time.
“…or that you may become a tenant for life,” Carlton grinned widely. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“When’s the nuptials?” Walters asked.
“News travels fast,” Sam noted. He had doubted Amelia’s friend Charity would do as well as the Times with their engagement announcement. Obviously, he was wrong.
“And Danny here can’t even read,” Ensign George White joked, poking his friend, the presence of alcohol making him more jovial than usual. “The Captain told us.”
“We are on the cut,” Ensign Danny Carlton explained gesturing to the pub. “Might we toast your lady, Commander?”
“Yes, thank you. I think I will have a drink with you,” Samuel said.
“The Commander’d never leave us for his father,” George White said, “but I guess, maybe for a woman.” They all laughed.
“I’d bet gold on that,” Ensign Danny Carlton said.
“You don’t have any gold,” Samuel joked back, putting the men at ease. “I know your salaries; but speaking of gold. I do have a favor to ask, and it may include a spot of coin.”
“You know we are always up for a bit of work, Commander,” Danny Carlton said.
“This is not official,” Samuel warned.
George White shrugged. “Damned low water for me. I’m in for some blunt.”
“Leave it to us, Commander,” Danny Carton said.
“Good then. I’ll stop back on the morrow,” Samuel said.
“No, have that drink with us,” White urged.
“Are you buying?” Walters asked with a grin.
“No. You are,” Carlton said with a teasing laugh.
Ensign White shoved him into the pub.
“I’m buying,” Samuel said as he followed the three men into the establishment where they proceeded to toast, Samuel’s fiancée, the beautiful Lady Amelia Atherton. After dipping rather deep, Samuel began to wax poetic about her beauty himself: toasting her eyes and her lips, and her hair. Before the conversation became too bawdy, he told them of her music, lamenting that his reason must have been swallowed in her song. Some of the men laughed. Others began singing.
“’Tis well then, you are going to marry the girl,” Ensign Carlton said, as he and Samuel left the pub. Samuel agreed, some sense coming back to him as the cool sea air hit his face. Somehow Ensign Jerry Walter got Samuel on his horse and sent him on his way with the promise that the ensigns would join his employ for as long as he needed them and they were in port. Their willingness to help put his mind at rest.
He did not tell them, that his engagement was only a ruse. He held that particular pain, like a barnacle on his own heart, and instead reminded the ensign that he would meet them early on the morrow.
Samuel arrived home sometime near dawn mainly due to the fact that his horse had a good sense of direction. The drink had made him maudlin and as he fell into bed for a few hours rest, he could think of nothing but Amelia, and the fact that she was not truly his.
~.~
Chapter Five
Amelia was waiting. Samuel’s note had explicitly stated he would arrive at nine in the morning, and so she had risen early and broken her fast. It was closer to ten now and he was nowhere in sight. At fifteen minutes past the hour she had gone back to sit at the window. She was nearly finished composing her song for the sea; Samuel’s song and the tune ran through her head, but without a piano, here at Aunt Ebba’s, she could not finish it. . The ending eluded her. Should it be uplifting, and end with a happier note, or carry the tragic, adventurous feeling of the song to the very end? When she had frustrated herself long enough, she had ordered another cup of tea. Still, she waited. After thirty five minutes had passed with no Samuel, she was beginning to think he had forgotten about her, and that was infuriating, as she thought of him at least every other moment for reasons unknown to her. He was as intriguing as he was irritating.
Finally at quarter past ten, she heard the crunch of wheels on the stone drive and the shuffling leather of the horses in their harness. She rose, taking her time. It would be good to make him wait now. She planned to do just that, but a moment later the front door burst open and Commander Samuel Beresford was striding into the room.
“Are you ready? Good, come along. We must
hurry,” he said, waving his hand at her as if she were a dog. Did he think she would answer to a wave and a whistle?
“I beg your pardon,” Amelia said balking. “I have been waiting for you for over an hour and now you tell me to make haste? You presume too much.”
“What presumption?” he asked. “I have been put to a vast deal of inconvenience already this morning,” Samuel said.
“You? You?” Amelia sputtered. “I had breakfast at eight, so as not to inconvenience you.”
“And no doubt you were awake at six and at your piano.”
“Aunt Ebba has no piano,” she spat.
“Oh,” he said instantly contrite. “That would have made the wait more tedious. I would as soon, you stayed safely at home,” he said softly, “But I expect you will have none of it. Come along then. Shall we be off?”
Amelia glared at him. “I am reconsidering it now,” she said. “Will you be civil, or is this the sort of behavior I can expect?”
Samuel closed his eyes, took a breath, and held out an arm to Amelia. When she hesitated he said, “I am sorry. I had a… difficult morning.”
“What happened, perchance?” she asked.
“I do not propose to bother you with the matter,” he said. “I will behave myself. Please, come with me?”
Though she knew the apology was as much of an act as his pretending to be betrothed to her, it still melted away her anger. She did not accept his arm, however, and stalked past him out the open front door and right into the carriage, leaving him to follow like a footman.
The Duke’s Daughter - Lady Amelia Atherton: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 3) Page 16
