by Louise Allen
‘Is this the road to Eton?’ Eva demanded, trying to read signposts as the post chaise bounded up the road from the coast.
‘No. London.’
‘But I don’t want to go to London, I want to go to Eton to see Freddie.’ She twisted round on the plush upholstery to glare at Jack indignantly. ‘You know I do.’
‘And my instructions are to take you to London.’ Eva opened her mouth to protest, but Jack shook his head before she could get the words out. ‘We have a charming house for you in the heart of fashionable London. I am taking you there, then I will check with the Foreign Office and, if you still want to, we will go to Eton tomorrow, after you are rested.’
‘But I don’t want to rest! I’ve tossed about on that wretched boat for twenty-four hours—without getting seasick—and now I shall be stuck in this bounding carriage for hours. Compared to days in the saddle and sleeping under the stars, I am perfectly rested.’
And no lovemaking to make her feel languid and lazily inclined to do nothing but curl up in Jack’s arms until one or other of them began those irresistible caresses that ended, inevitably, in ecstasy and exhaustion. She ached for him, but ever since they had set foot on the sloop he had waiting at Ostend, Jack had behaved with total circumspection.
It made her restless and impatient now, and, when she let herself brood, miserable for the future. The thought of seeing Freddie had been buoying her up; now that treat had been snatched away and she knew she was reacting like a child told to wait until tomorrow for her sweetmeats. Well, she was not going to stand for it…
‘Don’t even think about it.’ The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched, betraying his awareness of her rebellious thoughts.
‘What?’
‘Getting on your high horse and ordering me to take you to Eton, your Serene Highness.’
‘Surely you are not frightened of a lot of Whitehall clerks, are you?’ She opened her eyes wide and was rewarded by his grin at her tactics. Wheedling was not going to do it.
‘I thought you understood the concept of duty,’ Jack said mildly.
‘I do. But would it matter so much if I were one day late arriving in London?’
‘Yes.’ Jack produced a travelling chess set. ‘This will wile away the time.’
‘No, thank you, I have no desire to play chess. Please? Take me to my son, Lord Sebastian.’ That got his attention. Jack placed the box deliberately on the seat next to him and leaned back into the corner of the chaise.
‘So that was what you were doing up a ladder in Mr Catterick’s library.’ Eva nodded. ‘I do not use my title when I am working.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it makes me more of a target, less invisible. I am two different people, Eva. You have not met Lord Sebastian Ravenhurst, and I doubt you will.’
‘Why not?’ she demanded again, kicking off her shoes impatiently and curling up on the seat facing him.
‘Lord Sebastian is a rake and a gamester and does not mix in the sort of society that grand duchesses, even on unofficial visits, frequent.’
‘Is that why you fell out with your father?’ That would explain it, an estrangement between the duke and his wild-living son.
‘Actually, no. My father rebuffed my efforts to be a dutiful younger son, learn about the estate, make myself useful in that way. He supplied me with money beyond the most extravagant demands I might make and sent me off to London to become, in his words, a rakehell and a libertine.’
‘But why? I do not understand.’ Jack’s face was shuttered. Eva leaned across the space that separated them and put her hand on his knee. ‘Tell me, I would like to understand.’
‘I think because he was disappointed in Charles, my elder brother, and he did not want to admit it. I am very like my father, probably very like what he expected Charles to be. But Charles was—is—quiet, reclusive, gentle. My father maintained he was perfect in every way and dismissed me so he would not see the contrast proving him wrong at every turn.
‘By the time I was ten—and my brother twenty—I was careering round the estate on horseback, ignoring falls and broken bones. I was pestering him to teach me to fence, to shoot. Charles was stuck in his study, reading poetry. By the time I was sixteen I was in trouble with all the local light-heeled girls, Charles had to be dragged to balls and virtually forced to converse with a woman. And so it went on. Eventually the contrast was too extreme, but my father’s sense of duty to the family name, the importance of primogeniture, was too strong. He could not admit he loved me more, so he had to pretend the opposite. I had to go.’
‘How awful,’ Eva said compassionately. What a mess people got themselves into with their expectations and their pressures. Why could they not accept each other for what they were? ‘Did you miss your family and your home very much?’
Jack shrugged. ‘I was eighteen, the age when you want to get out and kick your heels up. He didn’t show me the door, I still came home, saw Charles, my mother, Bel, my sister. But for a few days, every now and again. And my father got the constant comfort of people comparing his sober, quiet, dignified elder son with the wild younger one.’
‘Then why aren’t you drunk in some gaming hell now?’ she asked tartly, to cover up the fact that she felt so sad about the young man he was describing. In nine years Freddie would be that age.
‘Nothing was expected of me,’ Jack went on, gazing out of the window as though he were looking back ten years at his younger self. ‘Nothing except to spend money and to decorate society events. I did my best. I can spend money quite effectively, I scrub up quite well, I can do the pretty at parties—but I was bored. Then I found myself helping a friend whose former valet was blackmailing him over indiscreet love letters. One thing led to another and I found that I liked Jack Ryder far more than I did Lord Sebastian Ravenhurst.’
‘Aren’t they now the same person, just with two different names?’ Eva asked. ‘Hasn’t Lord Sebastian grown up with Jack Ryder?’
‘Perhaps.’ He shifted back from the window to regard her from under level brows. ‘It makes no difference to you and me. The Grand Duchess Eva de Maubourg does not have an affaire with a younger son any more than she does with a King’s Messenger.’
‘That was not why I wanted to know.’ Oh, yes, it was, you liar. It was curiosity, certainly, but something was telling you that this man was an aristocrat and that would make it all right. ‘It was curiosity, pure and simple. I dislike secrets and mysteries.’ She said it lightly, willing him to believe her.
The way the shadow behind his eyes lifted both relieved her and hurt her. He did not want their affaire to continue. Why not? She thought he would be as sad as she at its ending. But then, by his own admission, he was a rake. Loving and leaving must be as familiar as the chase and the seduction. Only he had neither chased nor seduced her, when he very well could have done.
‘What do I call you, now we are back in England?’ she asked. ‘Mr Ryder, or Lord Sebastian?’
‘I am Jack Ryder. As I said, you will not meet my alter ego.’
‘You are not invited to the best parties?’
‘Duke’s sons are invited everywhere, even if fond mamas warn their sons against playing cards with them or their daughters against flirting. I do not chose to accept, it is as simple as that.’ He looked out of the window again. ‘And here is Greenwich. Another hour and you will be almost at your London house.’
Eva sighed. Even if she could persuade him, it was too late to set out to Eton now—there was the whole of London to traverse before she could be on the road to Windsor.
‘Don’t sigh—it is a very nice house.’
‘How do you know?’ Eva sat up straight and found her shoes. Time to start thinking and behaving like the representative of the Duchy in a foreign country, not an anxious mother or a sore-hearted lover.
‘I chose it.’
‘Really? You were very busy before you left.’
‘I mean, I had bought it, for myself. I was finding my chamber
s in Albany a touch small these days. But I am in no hurry to move in. The staff are all highly trustworthy, employed by the Foreign Office for just such eventualities.’
‘So you have never lived there?’
‘No.’
That, at least, was a mercy. The thought of living in the midst of Jack’s furnishings, the evidence of his taste, of his everyday life, was disturbing. Eva set herself to talk of trivia, of London gossip, and the last hour of the journey passed pleasantly enough. It was as though, she thought fancifully, they were skating serenely on a frozen sea, while beneath them, just visible through the ice, swam sharks.
‘Here we are.’ Jack opened the chaise door and jumped down, flipping out the steps for her before the postilions could dismount. She lay her hand on his proffered arm and walked up to the front door, gleaming dark green in the late afternoon sunshine. Jack lifted his hand to the heavy brass knocker, but the door swung open before he could let it fall.
‘Your Serene Highness, welcome.’ An imposing butler, with, she was startled to see, the face of a prize fighter, ushered them into the hall, then stood aside.
Facing her across the black-and-white chequers was a boy, sturdy, long-legged, with a mop of unruly dark hair. Hazel eyes met hers and for a moment she was frozen, unable to believe what she was seeing. Then Eva flew across the hall and fell to her knees, her arms tight around her son. ‘Oh, Freddie, you’re here!’
Chapter Nineteen
‘Mama!’ The pressure of his arms around her almost took her breath away. This was not the little boy she had last seen—he was so grown she could glimpse the young man he would become. And they would not be separated like that again, never, that she vowed. Disentangling herself with an effort, Eva sat back on her heels and stared happily at her son.
‘You’ve grown,’ she managed to say. ‘How you have grown!’
‘Well, the food’s pretty grim,’ he confided, startling her with his perfect English accent. ‘But I stock up in the shops in the High—Uncle Bruin keeps me well supplied with the readies, you know.’ He stared at her, his eyes solemn. ‘You look just as I remember, Mama.’
‘Good,’ Eva said, fighting to keep the shake out of her voice. ‘You have been very good at answering all my letters.’
‘I missed you.’ He was biting his lower lip, the desperate need to maintain his grown-up dignity fighting with the urge to hug his mother and never let her go. ‘Are you going away again soon?’
‘We are both going back to Maubourg together, just as soon as the situation in France is calm and we can travel safely.’ She hesitated. ‘You know Uncle Philippe has been ill?’ He nodded. ‘I don’t know if he is better yet, or worse. And I am afraid that Uncle Antoine might have been…hurt in all the confusion with Bonaparte invading.’
Too much information. She was pouring it out, kneeling here on the hard floor, her hands tight around his upper arms, terrified of letting him go in case he proved to be a dream after all.
Awkwardly Eva made herself loosen her grip and tried to stand. Her legs felt shaky. Two hands reached for her and she placed her own, one in each. ‘Thank you, Freddie, Ja…Mr Ryder.’ For a long moment they stood there, linked. Like a family group, she thought wildly, releasing Jack’s hand as though it were hot. Then Freddie let go, as well, and held out his hand to Jack.
‘Mr Ryder. Welcome back. Thank you for looking after my mama.’
Jack shook hands solemnly. ‘Your Serene Highness. It was a pleasure. I am glad to see you so well. You were a trifle green when we last met.’
‘Mushrooms, Mama,’ Freddie explained.
‘I know. Mr Ryder kindly told me all the horrid details.’
Her son chuckled. ‘I was very sick. Did you know this is Mr Ryder’s house?’
‘Yes. It is very kind of him to lend it to us.’ She looked around. The pugilistic butler was still standing, statue-like, in the corner. A pair of equally large footmen were at attention at the foot of the stairs and a small covey of female domestics were gathered behind them. ‘Have you been here long?’
‘Long enough to know everyone; I arrived yesterday morning,’ Freddie said importantly. ‘This is Grimstone, our butler.’ It suits him, Eva thought. ‘And Wellings and O’Toole, the footmen. And Mrs Cutler is a spiffingly good cook. And Fettersham is your dresser.’
A tall woman dressed in impeccable black came forward and curtsied. ‘Shall I show you to your room, your Serene Highness?’
‘Ma’am will do nicely,’ Eva said automatically. ‘Yes, I will just take off my bonnet and mantle and I’ll be right back down, Freddie. Then we’ll have tea.’ And talk and talk and talk… ‘You will look after Mr Ryder, won’t you?’
She almost tripped over the stairs because she keep looking back to make sure he was still there, her son. Just as the turn of the stairs took them out of sight, she saw Freddie slip a hand into Jack’s and tug him towards what she assumed must be the salon. They looked so right together, the tall, lean man and the eager boy.
‘Are you quite well, ma’am?’ Her new dresser was regarding her anxiously. ‘You went quite pale a moment ago.’
‘Quite well, thank you, Fettersham. It was a wearing journey.’
In the event it took her longer to return downstairs than she had intended. Her gown proved sadly salt-stained, her hair was tangled, Fettersham found it hard to locate a full change of linen in her limited baggage and a mix-up in the scullery resulted in cold water being sent up, not hot.
Half an hour later, leaving a wrathful dresser descending upon the kitchen quarters to complain, Eva went downstairs to find Freddie sitting alone on one side of a tea table laden with cakes and biscuits, which he was eyeing greedily. He stood up punctiliously.
‘I am ready for the tea now, thank you, Grimstone.’ The butler bowed himself off. ‘Where is Mr Ryder?’ Eva sat down opposite her son.
‘Gone. May I have a scone, Mama?’ She nodded absently, shifting slightly to give the footmen room to deposit the teapot and cream jug on the table beside her.
‘Gone where? Thank you, that will be all.’ She did not want to discuss Jack in front of the domestic staff.
‘I don’t know, Mama. Oh, and he said would I please make his excuses to you, and…’ Freddie frowned in concentration ‘…he said I must take care to get this right—he said to say goodbye, and that it was better that he went now, as his job was done and he did not want to make complications. And that you were to remember him if you ever have a bad dream.’ A mammoth mouthful of scone vanished and Freddie chewed valiantly. ‘Mama, do you think that means he isn’t coming back at all? I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but—’
‘Don’t talk with your mouth full,’ Eva said automatically. ‘Yes. I think that means Mr Ryder is not coming back.’ He had walked away, without a word, without a kiss. There was just the memory of the pressure of his hand when the three of them had stood together in the hall and the knowledge that she would love him and miss him and want him for the rest of her days.
‘That’s a pity.’ Freddie picked up a slice of cake, looked at it and put it down. When his eyes met Eva’s, they glistened with a shimmer of tears. ‘I like him. I’ll miss him.’
‘You hardly know him,’ Eva said bracingly. What was upsetting Freddie so much?
‘Yes, I do. He came to see me three times at Eton, and we had long talks. He wanted to know all about the castle and my uncles and you. I said I didn’t remember very much, but he said I was intelligent, so if I put my mind to it, I would recall lots—and I did. It was really exciting. He said I was briefing him for his mission, and he would send me coded dispatches, and he did.’
‘He did? How?’ And why hadn’t Jack told her so she could have sent messages, too?
‘They went through his agents to the Foreign Office. And when the first one arrived, they sent Grimstone with it to stay with me. They said he was just a butler, but I think he’s a bodyguard, don’t you, Mama? Because the first message from Mr Ryder said there was dang
er and I had to take great care and Grimstone started going everywhere with me. I got ragged a bit, but then the chaps shut up, because Grimstone showed everyone how to box.’
‘How dare he worry you like that?’ Eva banged down the teapot, disregarding the splash of hot liquid from the spout. ‘And if I’d known he was writing to you, I would have sent a message.’
‘Mr Ryder said the messages had to be short and you wouldn’t like me to be worried, so you’d fuss. But Mr Ryder said I was old enough to understand and start taking care of myself. Are you growling, Mama?’
‘Yes, I am!’
‘But he was right, wasn’t he? Things were dangerous. I don’t expect Uncle Bruin’s really just ill, I expect someone’s tried to poison him, like they did me with those mushrooms.’
‘Freddie!’
‘It’s Uncle Rat, isn’t it? He’s a Bonapartist.’ Freddie’s clear hazel eyes regarded her solemnly over yet another piece of cake.
‘Yes. Freddie, I wasn’t going to tell you all this, all at once. But I’m afraid Antoine has been very…foolish. He may be…hurt.’
‘Mr Ryder said he was trying to develop rockets for the Emperor, and he was trying to kill both of us and he took Maubourg troops into France—so I expect I’m going to have to write to King Louis and say sorry, aren’t I?—and he may have been killed, but we can’t be certain.’
Eva picked up her cup with a hand that shook and took a gulp of tea. It did not help much. ‘When did he tell you all this?’
‘Just now, before he left. He said it’s called a de-brief and he had to tell me because you probably wouldn’t, because of mothers worrying. May I have a macaroon?’
‘You’ll make yourself sick,’ Eva said distractedly.
‘And he said you were a heroine, and found out about the rockets and helped him raid the factory, and fought off Uncle Rat’s agents and probably saved his life.’ The macaroon vanished and Freddie sank back with a happy sigh of repletion. ‘And he said I wasn’t to worry if you seemed a bit upset about things, because you had had a very difficult time, and finding I was all right would actually make you more upset, because that’s the way shock and relief work.’
