Dangerous Pursuit (Lords 0f Whitehall Book 1)

by Ann Chaney

  “I will cob together a story for you. Will write it down so you can study the details. Success lies in the details. Will give you a sergeant major for your father with a chest full of medals some from the old king himself. Bravery in the Colonies that sort of thing. The sergeant major has served for the last three decades. The old soldiers still favor the queue. No one will question you sporting the same outdated hair as your father.”

  Serena turned around. She grabbed her aunt and hugged her. “Thank you for helping me. I assume Moreham has sent word about what has happened today. Arnold’s escape. What you may not be aware of, is Arnold’s intention to assassinate General Lord Wellington. Richard volunteered to capture the traitor before he can carry out his horrible deed. I’m going too.” She dared her aunt to argue.

  “I knew eventually you’d follow the boy. He’s been successful at avoiding you and his feelings, but I knew you would never give up on the lad.” Her aunt drew herself up. “Very well, I will retire and prepare proper forms and letters of introduction. Once I have the necessary papers ready, I’ll give them to Nettie. Wouldn’t be good for Weatherington to see me coming and going from your room. As for your unavailability, we’ll put it about that you are suffering from a fever and a putrid throat. No one will doubt what I say. Nettie can come and go from this room with trays to keep the pretense going.”

  Aunt Philly made for the door. “Stay close to Richard, no one will notice you. I know how you think. For once, follow Weatherington’s lead. The boy knows how to survive. As for assuming a male identity, I’ve used the same ruse many times in the past.” Philly gave her a hard look. “You do have a generous bosom. Bind your chest as tight as you can bear it.”

  “I will. I have one of Thorne’s coats from his time at Oxford. When I wear the garment, my bosom vanishes in the fullness. Dressed so slovenly, I’ll look even less the gentleman. Others will see me and doubt I am a gentleman of consequence which suits my purposes. Not noticeable at all. I’ll stay in my cabin until the ship clears the river.”

  “What about your father?”

  Serena shook her head and grimaced. “We both know I will be home long before Papa returns from Cambridge.”

  “It appears you have thought through your plan well. I leave you to convince Nettie. She’ll be harder than I to convince. I’ll take care of my part of your scheme. I’ll bid you safe travels now.”

  Her aunt kissed her forehead. “I know you far too well to believe you’ll heed my warning to do as Richard says. You’re too much like me. I will say I love you and beg you to please be safe.”

  Aunt Philly left her alone to wonder how she ever managed to be embroiled in such dangerous business. Thinking back to her first meeting with Moreham, he’d been very direct in his questions about herself and why she wanted to work with him. He warned her that his work was dangerous. She had waved off all his concerns. Now she wished she’d been a little more cautious. So much for being an independent woman who controlled her own destiny.

  Nettie’s return broke through her musing about what might have been. Time to confess all to the maid.

  “Nettie, I want to talk to you about what is going on.”

  The maid shot her a hard look. “No need. I already know. Have known since your first encounter with the Earl of Moreham.”

  “How did—” The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Aunt Philly told you.”

  “She did. Who do you think has helped her with her escapades all these years? She certainly didn’t do it alone. Now, turn around so I can cut some of this hair.”

  Serena gasped as the maid put her hands on her shoulders and turned her back to the dressing table so she could see what Nettie was doing to her hair.”

  Here she thought she was the adventuresome one in the family. Instead Aunt Philly and Nettie had been the ones to prove their own intellect and independence. No doubt, Richard knew about both ladies’ involvement. He had always treated Nettie differently than most gentlemen treated servants. Now his deference made perfect sense. He saw Nettie as an equal. A niggle of jealousy rattled around in her head. Jealous of her maid. Her life truly was turned upside down.

  Moments later, Serena stared at herself in her mirror. She’d watched the transformation and still couldn’t believe the masculine face staring at her was her own. She reached out to touch her reflection in the looking glass. She bore a startling resemblance to her brother Thorne.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

  “Not time for you to say much. Needs must to dress and make your way to the docks. I’ll repack your valise with your clothes then go see if Lady Philly has your papers ready. All this will be for nothing without papers.”

  Serena jumped to her feet to grab the maid’s arm. “Nettie, you must carry on as if you are nursing me. Can you do that for me? My good name is in your hands. I should only be gone a week or so. Most of Society is still in the country so no one will notice my absence. I’ll return no one the wiser.”

  “Don’t fret, my lady. Like I said before, I’ve been doing this for many years. I’ll see to my end of the farce. You see to yours. Beware, Lord Richard may take a dim view of your masquerade. If I were you, I’d wait until the ship is well into the Channel before I revealed myself.”

  Nettie reached for the abandoned satchel and moved to the bed. “Here, you need to hurry if you’re going to board the ship before his lordship arrives at the dock.”

  Serena picked up the pair of breeches and a linen shirt then headed to the dressing room. Nettie repacked the valise she’d brought from Burley House.

  Nettie didn’t bat an eye when Serena entered the room wearing her breeches and shirt even though she knew the maid saw no sign of the gently reared woman she’d taken care of since birth.

  She looked up at the mantle clock and nodded toward the door. “Please go to Aunt Philly and see if she has my documents ready. Meet me on the backstairs. Watch out for Richard.”

  She sat down in front of the dressing table mirror and tied a simple knot in her cravat. She reached into her jewelry box and fingered Richard’s sapphire stickpin. With a sigh she returned it to its hiding place. Guilt nipped at her conscience for not returning the stickpin to Richard. She couldn’t bring herself to do so. She had nothing of his to hold close. After they returned from the Peninsula, she’d return the pin.

  That decision made, she gave a quick glance through her valise to confirm she had all she needed for the trip. Serena grabbed her cloak and an old beaver hat left behind by Thorne and made for the door.

  Serena found Nettie on the servant backstairs with what looked like notes in her hand. The kitchen was just on the other side of the stairs. Serena peeped around the wall into the kitchen. No one was about, but to be safe she gestured for Nettie to whisper.

  Nettie handed her the largest of the bits of paper in her hand. “This is a writ from the Privy Council. It is Lady P’s personal authorization signed by Sir Perceval himself endorsed over to you. She says she prays you will not have need to use it. That piece of paper will bring the full force of His Majesty’s Government on your behalf.”

  “As Aunt Philly says, let’s pray I have no need to use that authority.”

  Nettie gave her the other papers to look over. The maid fished a brown leather wallet with the Weatherington family seal etched into the leather from her dress pocket. “The rest of those papers are your identity papers and authorizations to travel.”

  “Richard’s wallet? Interesting? Dare I ask how you procured it?”

  The maid huffed and took the documents back and slid them into the wallet. “You are Mr. Herbert—”

  “She gave me her favorite peacock’s name?”

  Nettie waved a dismissive hand in front of Serena’s face. “She said to tell you to do that colorful fellow proud. As I was saying, you are traveling to Lisbon to join your father, Sergeant Major Powell. Lady Philly told me to tell you she included a biographical sheet.”

  She should have known
Aunt Philly would do something this outrageous. Now, every time she heard her assumed name, visions of the Pendleton lawn with its flock of peacocks would appear in her mind’s eye.

  “Has Richard left yet?”

  “No, milady, he is still upstairs. I told his man Simpkins you were inconsolable and had taken to your bed. That boy is like any other man. and will run as fast as he can from a crying woman. No fear of him seeking you out to say his farewells.”

  Serena gave the old woman a hug. She picked up her valise and peeped around the corner. Seeing no one, she ran to the back door. Fear of Richard learning from one of the grooms of her departure she avoided the mews and made her way to Green Street before flagging down a hack.

  Serena sat down in the smelly conveyance. Now, she truly was committed to this endeavor. Complaining would do her no good. Her next challenge was to board the ship with Aunt Philly’s papers and hide away until the corsair made the Channel. Once in open water, Richard could do nothing. His journey to Lisbon had to be done as quickly as possible. There would be no time to return to England to toss her back on land. Should his anger cloud his judgment and demand the captain return to port, she’d not hesitate to run to present the writ from Sir Perceval.

  She’d have to live with the consequences of her actions. Besides, feeling a compulsive need to be at Richard’s side, there was her brother to consider. Thorne served on Wellington’s personal staff. Her brother was as headstrong and dedicated as she. He’d not hesitate to step in front of his commander and take Arnold’s bullet himself. She had to go. Richard would have to understand. He would not throw her overboard. Would he?

  Chapter 11

  Sooner than Serena expected, the ripe smell of the Thames wafted into the hack. The driver pulled up in front of a gangway tendered to the HMS The Vigilant. She lugged her valise to the top of the gangway where an officer stood at the ready.

  “Papers, please,” the officer demanded with a snap of his fingers. She pulled the battered wallet from her coat pocket. She’d practiced removing the documents in the hack. She deftly pinched her identity papers and the authorization for her to travel.

  “Mr. Herbert Powell?” The officer glanced up, at her or rather, Herbert. Serena bobbed her head so the sailor would not see her grin at hearing her alias spoken. She wished Aunt Philly had given her the vicar’s name. Nothing funny about that somber gentleman.

  With a grunt, he gave the documents back and called a seaman over. The young sailor led her below decks into the tiniest room Serena had ever seen. Even the servants in her father’s townhouse had larger bedchambers.

  “You ever been on a ship before?”

  She shook her head as she took in the austereness of the cabin—two beds stacked one on top of the other and a small window. The stench of the harbor filled the air. She hoped that odor would disappear once they were at sea.

  “Uh, few things you should know.” The sailor moved over to the far corner and kicked a chamber pot. “Here’s the chamber pot. Take care to hit the pot when you do your business. You’ll be unsteady on your feet for the first day or so. If you miss the pot, you clean up the piss.” He laughed and nudged Serena in her side. She moved away from him. It would not do for her disguise to be exposed before they hoisted the anchor and pulled away from the dock.

  “Sammie, the cabin boy, will come and empty it in the mornings. Be sure to have him empty the pot straightaway if you cast up your accounts. Bad smell that.”

  Cast up her accounts? Answering to a fan-tailed bird’s name and now she could be sick too?

  “You’ll only be on ship for about four maybe five days before we make landfall. Sammie will take care of you. Get you to meals and escort you above decks to take some fresh air. He’ll be by once we sail. He’s a good lad.”

  The sailor saluted. “We sail at midnight. Best get some sleep.”

  The man left her standing. The binding around her chest tightened like a vise on her bosom. Her thighs were chafed from her breeches. She’d forgotten about the discomfort of wearing breeches. How was she going to move about among rough men without anyone seeing through her disguise?

  A look at the chamber pot gave her an idea. She would feign seasickness. She’d ask the boy to bring her meals to her. Besides, once she made her presence known to Richard, he might bluster, but he’d see to her safety. Of course, he would. Wouldn’t he?”

  All would be well. She grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bottom bunk then settled her valise in its place. She’d do well to follow the sailor’s advice and get some sleep.

  Above decks, the sailors were shouting back and forth as they prepared to sail. Their shouts punctuated by the loud thumps of cargo being situated above and below decks.

  “Thank you, sailor, I can take it from here.”

  Richard.

  She leaned forward almost falling out of the bunk as footsteps moved closer to her. The footsteps stopped outside her door. Oh, no! If he opened the door, even if only by mistake, he would recognize her. She would be sunk, to use naval vernacular, before the ship ever lifted anchor and sailed down the Thames.

  The cabin door creaked. Her worst fear was at hand. Richard was entering the cabin.

  “So sorry, old fellow. Didn’t mean to disturb you. Not a bad idea, sleeping. The captain says there’s a storm off the coast. Will be a rough crossing to Lisbon.”

  Richard climbed onto the top bunk. Serena wanted to cry. Richard in her cabin and rough seas ahead. She had no choice, she must stay the course. If she pretended to sleep until morning the ship would be in the Channel as she’d planned all along. She was safe for now.

  The anchor would be hauled aboard at any time, she assumed. All she knew of sailing was what she had read in books. With her self-imposed confinement, she would not gain any knowledge on this voyage.

  The rumble of the anchor chain against the side of the ship followed by the increased rocking of the ship signaled their imminent departure. Her body hummed with excitement as her point of no return raced toward her.

  Richard hated sea voyages. Sailors always waxed on about the cloudless blue skies and the beauty of the ocean. His limited experience was of angry gray skies and storm ravaged seas. Thanks to the Good Lord and his family’s Cook he no longer suffered from seasickness.

  After his first voyage and his near death from the nauseous malady, the cook contacted a sailor she knew from her youth and asked for a seasickness remedy. The sailor confirmed he had such a cure and for an exorbitant price agreed to sell her a bottle.

  He’d sailed many times since that first voyage and had not been sick since. Hardtack biscuits and a tonic that initially tasted like briny seawater turned to a disgusting medicinal taste as the foul stuff passed the tongue and down one’s gullet. In other words, only a viable threat to England or one of its own would have got him on this ship.

  Richard opened his medicinal packet and ate a biscuit and dosed himself with his noxious medicine before lying down on his bunk and pulling a thin blanket over him. With one final prayer for calm seas he fell asleep lulled by the rocking motion of the ship.

  The next morning came quickly. The ship rose and fell in a steep rocking motion. The captain had been right about the storm. He muttered a thank you for his cure-all.

  His bunkmate moaned. Oh no, an unseasoned traveler. Of all the rotten fortune to be saddled with a sickly gentleman. Richard reached for his breeches and pulled them on. He was dressed less his cravat. Dressing was difficult because of the rocking of the boat, now a great deal stronger than the evening before. They were in the Channel.

  Richard rolled out of his bunk and nudged the stranger’s shoulder. Wouldn’t do for either of them if the seasick stranger cast up his accounts in his bed. “Sir, may I suggest you make use of the chamber pot? I’ll go fetch you a mug of tea with plenty of sugar. My cook swears a good strong cup of tea will do the trick for any malady.”

  The moment he touched the stranger’s shoulder, he knew. Serena.

  He j
erked the blanket off her. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was, dressed as a man. Was that Thorne’s old jacket? What had happened to her hair?

  Richard opened the cabin door to find a boy coming down the way. Upon seeing Richard, the child smiled. The lad made his way toward him by leaning side to side as the ship pitched and roiled.

  “I was just on my way to knock on your door, milord. May I fetch you and the other gentleman a kettle of tea. We have fish and eggs this morning. Would you like for me to fetch a plate for you?”

  “No, I think the tea will be enough for both of us this morning. This voyage is my friend’s first crossing. He’s not feeling up to fish and eggs. Maybe a slice of bread with a bit of cheese?”

  The boy scraped a bow before heading back the way he’d come. Richard brushed his hair back from his face and braced himself for his discussion with Serena.

  She now sat on her bunk. White as a fresh cravat, he reached above her to grab his satchel. He found the bottle of tonic.

  Serena pulled her body from the bunk. She weaved a bit back and forth. He moved to help her, but she stepped back against the bunk wooden frame. “Go ahead and berate me for my foolishness. Tell me I deserve the wretched storm and the mal de mer. Tell me you intend to toss me overboard or worse intend to take me to Lisbon but lock me in the hold while you go about chasing Arnold.”

  He kept his peace, giving her the floor. When her face took on a greenish tinge, he looked around the cabin for the chamber pot. He spied it behind the cabin door and used his foot to slide the ceramic vessel closer to Serena. Not a moment too soon, as she dropped to the floor making use of the chamber pot. He doubted she’d thank him for coming to her aid.

  Richard left the cabin in search of a pitcher of water. Serena would thank him for his quick thinking when he returned with a cloth and fresh water. Nothing like a clean wet cloth to wash away the foulness of vomit on one’s body.