My Gentleman Spy (The Duke of Strathmore Book 5)

by Sasha Cottman

  Hattie felt nauseous. It was not the motion of the boat. She had seen the life which had been set out for her and known it was a life of misery and loneliness.

  Ignoring her protests, Will pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She felt the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Her heart desperately hoping that someone finally did understand.

  “Thank you. I know that took an enormous amount of courage to tell. Thank you for trusting me enough and allowing me to finally understand.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Will Saunders was not by nature a violent man, but he knew there were men who only responded to violence. Years as a spy in France had taught him that uncomfortable truth. Men had died under his hand.

  Hattie’s father and former fiancé were fortunate that they were many hundreds of nautical miles away at this moment, otherwise Will feared he would have done violence against them.

  Holding a sobbing Hattie in his arms, he was overwhelmed with pity. This poor girl had been nothing more than a pawn in a bigger game being planned and played by those who should have protected her. He did not know who he hated more at that moment. Reverend Brown for having made the presumption that Hattie would make a comfortable wife, or Aldred Wright for having considered his daughter as nothing more than something to offer up to another man in marriage.

  She had been given no choice but to do their bidding. No say in her life. Reckless though it had been, she had done the only thing she could by fleeing from them.

  When her tears eventually ceased, Will sat Hattie back on the bed. He resumed his seat opposite.

  With her parents and fiancé out of her life, Hattie was in a precarious situation. Will now faced a difficult decision. Did he let things lay as they were, or did he press her for more information?

  He gritted his teeth. The next few minutes could change everything between them.

  “So, Hattie, what other family do you have in London?”

  She slowly raised her head and met his gaze.

  If Will thought she was unaccustomed to the way of liars, he had never done business in the rookery of St Giles. While Hattie was not particularly strong in the art of lying herself, she still knew enough.

  St Giles was the home of every thief, conman, and criminal worth his salt in London. She had dealt with many of them over the years; some lessons had been well learned.

  While the newspapers regularly wrote articles demanding the rookeries of London be cleared, the authorities did nothing about it. Her father had a theory that if they did clean out the sordid slums, then the poor and criminals alike would be forced onto the streets of London. The rich of St James parish would not take kindly to having beggars and pickpockets living in the streets outside their homes.

  Will’s attempt to comfort her had been real, he was not that calculating. She knew however, it was only a momentary interval in the long game he was playing. It was time for her to move one of her own pieces on the board.

  “My Uncle Felix has a house on Argyle Street. You could take me there,” she replied.

  She sat and waited. Watching as Will processed her words. The dark line on his brow relaxed just enough to tell her he believed her.

  “Good. So that is where I shall take you once we make shore. What number is your uncle’s house?” said Will.

  “Oh, I am not sure. I think it is number seventy- five.”

  “On the right or left of the street as you come from Oxford Street?”

  “Right. It’s a white four-storey town house.”

  Will was still trying to pick holes in her story. Fortunately; she was telling the truth about the house and its location.

  “Number seventy- five you said. That would make it the corner house?”

  She frowned. Her uncle’s house was in the middle of a row of houses.

  “No, its four doors from the end of the street.”

  “Yes of course that would make it number seventy-five. I have friends in the corner house and they are in number eighty-one.”

  Hattie held her breath, desperate not to show any sign of relief that Will believed her. The truth was, she was not lying. Her uncle did have a house on Argyle Street. His permanent residence was in London.

  Who then was she to quibble over the fact that her Uncle Felix was currently serving with the British envoy to the United States of America in Washington, and had been absent from England for four years.

  There was a knock at their cabin door and Will answered it. As he stood and turned his back toward her, Hattie let out the breath she had been holding.

  The first mate stood at the door, cap in hand. Will had requested to speak with the captain regarding his sleeping arrangements.

  “I shan’t be long,” said Will.

  As the door closed behind him, Hattie punched the air. She had won a small, but important victory. She had given Will the name of a family member and an address where he could take her once they reached London.

  Her uncle was real and she knew enough of his house to be able to give Will a convincing story that a home could be found for her there. She had bought herself some valuable time. Time in which she could come up with a plan to disappear from Will Saunders’ life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Will returned to the cabin a short time later in the oddest of moods.

  His meeting with the ship’s captain had not gone well. The ship was heavily laden with goods and there was not a spare hammock to be had with the crew.

  Added to that problem, was the fact that the captain did not know his crew, having picked them up only recently in the West Indies. There were some of them he considered untrustworthy, others downright dangerous.

  “Even if I had somewhere for you to sleep Mr. Saunders, such as in my cabin, I would not offer you that accommodation. Your fiancée may be in danger from the crew if she is left to sleep in your cabin on her own,” the captain explained.

  The lock on their cabin door was nothing special. The same key fitted most locks on board the ship. Will would have to sleep in the cabin with Hattie.

  That news pushed another thought to the forefront of his concerns. What was he to say to Felix Wright when he returned Hattie to London?

  He had retrieved her from out of the sea. Been semi naked in front of her. And to top it all off had spent the best part of two weeks sharing a private cabin with her onboard a ship.

  If her uncle was any sort of gentleman, he would demand the obvious. Will would have to marry Hattie.

  He stopped outside the cabin door. It would not be the first time he had married out of sense of duty. His initial reason for agreeing to marry Yvette was to help build a false identity in Paris.

  He had been a rash young man. Yvette was beautiful and strong willed. Lust and adventure had overruled any reservations he may have had about marrying the French undercover agent. Her father had also had a firm hand in the decision.

  He had quickly learned not to regret his decision. Yvette was a sensual woman. She soon won Will’s heart, and in time he had owned hers.

  While Hattie was different from the vivacious Yvette, she was possessed of her own unique charm. He had little doubt that with time, they would come to a comfortable arrangement. There was even the chance that they could come to care for one another.

  I am not a complete ogre, who knows she may fall in love with me.

  The topic of marriage was for later, when they were closer to England. Between now and then Will had time to get to know a little more of the real Hattie Wright. Time in which to set the scene for the inevitable conversation.

  Inside the cabin, he found Hattie seated at the window. She was watching the waves and the distant shore line that was the coast of Spain.

  “Bad news I am afraid,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  There was no point in trying to keep the truth from her. If she had worked the slums of St Giles parish, Hattie would know enough of the dangers of the street.

  “The captain is not convinced that every man in
the crew is of good reputation. I shall have to sleep in the cabin.”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “That’s perfectly alright. The bed is big enough.”

  Will frowned. Sharing a bed with her was not part of his plans, not yet anyway. Marriage first, then the sharing of the marital bed and the pleasures that came with it.

  “I have some bedding, the floor should suffice,” he replied.

  She looked at the small gap between the bed and the rest of the furniture. It was a tight squeeze. Will would have little room to move about once he was down on the floor.

  “Are you certain? It’s not as if either of us is going to don our nightclothes. I am quite happy for you to share the other side of the bed,” replied Hattie.

  She was a practical minded girl, but Will suspected that Hattie was not overly familiar with the male form and what the effect sleeping next to a young woman could have on a man. Waking beside her in the morning with a raging erection was a real possibility he did not want to have to face. He did not want her to think he would treat her the same as Reverend Brown had clearly intended.

  “While you may have been away from polite society for some time, don’t think for one minute that it has become acceptable for an unmarried couple to share a bed. The floor will do.”

  With that the discussion was at an end. Will would have to hope that the gentle rocking motion of the ship on the sea and the sound of the waves was enough of a lullaby to put him to sleep each night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Will paced back and forth along a short stretch of the cluttered deck. Every inch of the deck of the Canis Major was crowded with wooden crates and barrels lashed together with rope. There was little room to maneuver about the deck, let alone go for a proper stroll.

  He tapped his fist against the side of one of the oak barrels, it was full. He licked his lips, thinking that a large glass of rum would be perfect right now. The crates stacked next to the rum, were marked SUGAR. PINNEY ESTATE. NEVIS. FREE MEN PRODUCE.

  The former slave plantations in the West Indies were now being worked by free men, paid for their labor. It sickened him to think that at one point the Canis Major would have regularly shipped slave labor goods to England. Goods he and his family would have purchased and used. England may have won the war against a French tyrant, but it most certainly did not have a clean moral sheet.

  The slap of a thick rope against his legs stirred him from his musings. He stepped to one side as two members of the crew pushed past him and lashed a rope around a stack of nearby barrels.

  “Expecting rough weather?” said Will, half in jest.

  “Yes,” they replied in unison.

  He looked to where one of the sailors was pointing his head. The clear skies of Southern Spain had disappeared. In their place was a near black cluster of storm clouds.

  Within minutes he noticed a perceptible increase in the wind. The sails flapped loudly against the mast as the crew working in the ropes overhead struggled to bring them in.

  Looking over the side of the ship, he could see the waves rising and falling in ever increasing tempo.

  The ship's captain got Will's attention with a firm tug on his sleeve.

  “Mr. Saunders, I suggest you might wish to retire to your cabin. The ship is heading into the North Atlantic and storm weather. It's going to be a rough night. The young lady may be in need of your comfort before long.”

  Will nodded. It was going to be a long night in the cramped cabin, the oncoming storm would only add another layer of discomfort for the two of them.

  “The captain says we are sailing into a storm. It's going to be rough sailing through until the morning,” said Will, stepping back into the cabin.

  Hattie was sitting quietly on the bed a book in hand.

  “I had noticed that the motion of the boat was getting stronger,” she replied.

  Will looked down at the floor. She had made up his bed while he had been out on deck. While Hattie had used all the blankets and the soft mattress given to him by the captain, it did not look particularly inviting. With the ship heading into a rough storm, he doubted he would get much sleep.

  “Will they feed us?” she asked.

  Food. He had not thought to ask. Hattie ever practical had.

  “I shall make enquiries.”

  With that he disappeared back out onto the deck.

  When Will returned a short time later, Hattie was seated in the same spot as when he left. He crossed to the bed and handed her a plate containing two apples, some cheese and four thick slices of bread. A small knife was stuck in the cheese.

  “The extent of our supper I’m afraid. The cook and cabin boy are busy helping to secure the cargo below decks. There will not be any hot food tonight.” he said.

  “Better than many will eat tonight,” she replied.

  The words rolled off her tongue so easily that Will suspected it was a common saying in the Wright household.

  “Come sit and eat something. I remember the weather on the journey here. Mama was terribly ill for several days as we crossed between the seas.”

  Will sat down in the chair opposite the bed and faced Hattie. There was a matter of inches between their knees. They both chuckled at how cramped the space was between them.

  “We are going to be the best of dance partners by the time this voyage is over. Moving around one another will be second nature. Our bodies will be as one,” said Will.

  He had the manner of one whom she expected would be a skilled dancer. She had always enjoyed dancing in her younger years. Her brother Edgar had spent many hours patiently teaching her the waltz the year of her coming out. She had barely got to use all those lessons before her father determined that dancing was a sin and it was not permitted for his daughter.

  Edgar. She had not thought of her brother for some time. The sudden memory shook her.

  “Are you alright? My words about dancing perhaps came out a little askew. I meant we would move around the dance floor as one. I meant nothing untoward.”

  She looked up to see Will studying her, a concerned look on his face. He cared about her, that much was evident. There were certain mannerisms that gave his frame of mind away at times. Right now, he was worried he had offended her in some way.

  “Yes of course I am. You just gave me a reminder of my old life. I sometimes forget my family life was not always this way. My parents used to love to dance when I was younger,” she replied.

  While she was prepared to talk about her parents, Edgar Wright was the one person she was not going to share with Will. The one person in London Will could take her to was also the last person who would want to see her.

  She had treated Edgar and his wife Miranda terribly. Shunned them for not having taken up the mission of serving the poor. When the time came that she sent word pleading for his assistance to avoid going to Africa, Edgar had rightly abandoned her to her fate. There was no going back to being loving brother and sister.

  She willed herself to think of the task at hand, of trying to eat before the storm hit. Pulling the knife from out of the block of cheese, Hattie proceeded to cut the cheese into bite sized portions. When she was done she wrapped some of the cheese up in a piece of bread and handed it to Will.

  As he took it from her hands, their fingers touched. A frisson of heat raced up Hattie's spine. She shivered.

  Will slowly withdrew his hand. Whatever she had felt, she knew he had felt it too.

  They were as close as they could be without being on the bed together, yet she yearned to be even closer to him. His touch made her heart race.

  She should not feel this way about Will. The struggle was real. Hattie tried to force the feeling away, to calm her turmoil, but it was too strong to fight.

  In another time and place, she might have called this attraction love, but here and under the present circumstances she was at a loss to find the right word. Her body was sending signals she had never known before. It both frightened and thrilled her
.

  “Are you a good sailor?” she stammered.

  He looked at the bread and cheese in his hand.

  “Not particularly,” he replied.

  He took a bite of the sandwich and sat chewing it slowly. For the first time since she had met Will, Hattie sensed he was not entirely comfortable. The self-assured man of the world now revealed a vulnerable side of himself. She could tell he did not like it.

  Hattie looked around the cabin, relieved when she spied a bucket in the corner attached to the wall by a small hook.

  “So, what you are saying is that we may have need for that at some point tonight?” she said.

  A pensive looking Will nodded and retrieved the bucket. He placed it on the floor next to the desk.

  There was a knock at the door and when Will answered it, the first mate stepped inside. He doffed his cap to Hattie.

  “Captain says to tell you to stay in your cabin until he sends word that it is safe to come out. There is a big swell building and we are likely to be tossed about a bit,” he said.

  Hattie's heart sank. It would be the ultimate irony for her to die at sea on the way home to England.

  The first mate read her mind, and gave a reassuring grin.

  “Nothing to worry about miss, we sailors travel these waters all the year round. With the ship getting thrown around, some of the cargo may come loose from the ropes. It won’t be safe up on deck. Me, and the rest of the crew will be taking shelter soon to ride out the storm. By tomorrow morning it should have blown over and we will be making our way up the coast of Portugal. We should reach England in ten days after that. I’m sure your Mr. Saunders will keep you safe.”

  Will locked the door again after the first mate had left. He stood and surveyed the cabin before starting to take things from the top of the desk and putting them in his trunk. Hattie silently watched.

  When he finally completed the task of securing the cabin, Hattie offered him some more cheese and sliced apple, but Will waved them away.