by C. J. Chase
Despite the lateness of the hour and the seriousness of her situation, or perhaps because of them, a giggle bubbled in Leah’s throat. “I don’t think he trusts you to suitably manage the matter, my lord.”
“No doubt he’s met other members of the nobility and fears for his animals.” Chambelston smoothed a blanket along the gelding’s back. Much as the man’s mercurial moods vexed her, Leah acknowledged he displayed a self-sufficiency rare among the aristocracy.
A hand tapped against her arm. Leah peeked over her shoulder as Wetherel crooked a finger and gestured her away from Chambelston. She inched back a step, then another until the darkness of the stable’s murky interior swallowed her.
Wetherel pressed a folded note into her hand, then leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “This arrived several hours ago. I had thought to wait until morning to deliver it to you.”
“Thank you.” Answers from Alec, perhaps about the attack on Fleming and Teresa? Unfortunately Chambelston saddled the black gelding next to the only lit candle in the entire stable. She could hardly examine the note there. But she probably didn’t need the message now. Alec could tell her himself once she arrived at his lodgings. She tucked the paper into her sleeve then edged forward lest Chambelston notice her absence.
He secured the girth in place. “See to the candle, Miss Vance.” The horse’s iron shoes clanked against the floor as Chambelston led the animal outside.
Leah blew out the flame and followed them, dragging the stable door shut behind her. The cold wind tossed snow against her face.
“Quickly.” Her unlikely knight-errant climbed into the saddle. “Pass me your bag.”
She transferred the bundle containing a few clothes, her mother’s shawl, and her father’s Bible—unread these many years—without comment. Chambelston balanced it on the front of the saddle before him.
“And now you, Miss Vance.” He stretched out his hand to her. “Put your foot atop mine.”
She placed her palm against the leather of his glove, braced her sole on the toe of his boot, and let him swing her onto the horse behind him. Sitting astride hiked up her skirt several inches. The cold assailed her calves through her thin stockings.
“Still no gloves, Miss Vance?”
“I—I fear they were quite ruined during the events of the other day.”
“Take mine.” He stripped them off his hands.
“I can’t do that. You need them yourself.”
“I’ll manage.”
Reluctantly she accepted his offering. She pulled the leather over her fingers. The lingering warmth of his touch inside thawed her cold skin. “Thank you.”
“Hold on.” He urged the horse into motion. “Which way?”
“Veer left. We will follow this road for a mile, then turn right at the crossroads.”
“To Heckton.”
“Yes.” Hopefully Alec could squeeze her into his lodging for the few hours remaining of this night. And in the morning? Where would she go? Her mind swirled with alternatives, each leading to the same conclusion. Molly’s words, about a God with a plan, returned to mock her. She had no money and no prospects. No future.
The raw breeze chilled Leah’s cheeks. She tilted her head down and sheltered her face from the wind with Chambelston’s broad shoulders. The gentle rocking of the horse, the silence of the night and the warmth radiating from his coat promised blissful oblivion from her anxiety and exhaustion. Her heavy lids drifted over her eyes and her drowsy head bobbed.
She jerked and caught herself before she tumbled off the horse.
“Don’t fall asleep.”
“I won’t.” And yet, her words sounded soft and slurred even to her own ears.
“You could recite a few of those French conjugations. They kept me awake at night when I was a lad.”
“Exacting tutor?”
“Something worse. I didn’t want to disappoint my mother, given it’s her native language. Unfortunately I proved an inept pupil. Unhappily for me, my little brother has a remarkable ear for languages, and he put my poor efforts to shame.”
Rather like her younger sister Phoebe’s beauty casting Leah in the shadows. “Say something.”
“So you can tease me?”
“Your pride will benefit from a measure of humility.”
“Why do I suspect you are more interested in my humiliation than my humility?”
“A good laugh will keep me awake.”
“I think I would prefer you sleeping to mocking me.”
The indistinct outlines of Heckton’s cottages rising before them brought an end to this, their last—unexpected—banter. Longing for the foolish what-might-have-been weighed heavily in her heart as she tapped his lordship’s shoulder. The night’s ride, like her extraordinary part-friend and part-adversary relationship with Chambelston, had come to an end. “This is far enough.”
He drew the horse to a stop, then twisted his head and studied her face through the moon’s eerie glow. “Here? Miss Vance, as a gentleman, I would prefer to accompany you to your door.”
“But you see, my lord, it isn’t my door.”
He slid off the horse. “And you believe I would deliver your friend to the government.”
She fitted her hand into the one he extended to assist her down. “I think we both have good reasons for not confiding in each other.”
“You trust me more than you realize. I wish...”
A pity she couldn’t say the same of him. What betrayal had scarred him? A friend? Family member? A woman? “How so?”
“If you thought me a danger, you wouldn’t have directed me to this village. A few well-placed questions backed up with the offer of a bit of silver...”
But she would have bought herself what she most needed tonight. Time. She doffed his gloves and waited for him to pass her belongings.
Instead he reached inside his coat and produced a small purse. “A pity we couldn’t have met under other circumstances. I owe you this, I believe.” He captured her wrist and plopped the heavy pouch onto her palm. The soft chink of silver echoed in the night.
“I—I...” Pride demanded she refuse—she’d done little enough to earn his coins—but expediency held her tongue. Desperation did not allow for vanity. The money would solve her immediate problems for Phoebe’s care. Perhaps more. But... “Why?” The same question she’d asked when he’d insisted on attending her during this middle of the night venture.
“David.”
The answer she’d expected, if not the one she’d hoped for. Chambelston would have been pleased she intended to use the funds in the same way David would have—except she had no intention of revealing her family’s shame. “Thank you.” The swelling in her throat rendered the words subdued and husky.
“You’re welcome.” He passed her the bundle and swung up into the saddle.
“Would you make my farewells to Teresa and Lady Caroline?” Loneliness pierced her like the wind. “I fear my abrupt departure will unsettle your sister.”
“I’ll do that.” He gave her one last, lingering stare. Then he touched the brim of his hat. “Goodbye, Miss Vance.”
He rode off, leaving her holding the bag of silver. And his gloves, still clasped in her other hand. She raised them to her face and inhaled, imagining that sardonic smile as the scent of him filled her one last time.
Leah waited until the muffled clomp of the horse’s hooves faded into the darkness before she strolled the span of ageless stone buildings. She’d been to Alec’s lodgings but once, and then in daylight. A poor choice would make her decidedly unpopular.
A dog barked from inside a thatched-roof cottage. An angry voice responded, then all lapsed to quiet again. No, there was no dog at Alec’s lodgings. She peered at the next building, a modest structure whose warped wooden shingles moaned in the breeze. Alec had been wont to complain about the water seeping through his ceiling.
She gathered a fistful of snow and tossed it at an upstairs window. “Alec.” When the silence pers
isted, she repeated his name, more loudly.
Nothing. Now what? The wind penetrated her coat and the cold breached the slice in her boot. She would freeze if she remained out here until dawn. She tossed more snow at the glass, then ventured a tentative knock on the door.
The dog next door began to bark again. Leah pounded more loudly on the door, if only to get Alec to let her in before the entire village awoke.
A window above—not the one she’d covered in snow—screeched up in its frame. “What do you want?” The petulant alto resonated in the stillness and produced another session of barking.
“I need to speak with Alec Vance. It’s a family emergency.” Namely, her.
“He ain’t here.”
“He’s not? But then...” Perhaps she had chosen the wrong cottage after all.
“Ain’t seen him since yesterday.”
“Where did he go?”
“How should I know? I’m his landlord, not his mother.” The window slammed shut.
Why would Alec leave without informing...the note. She tugged it free of her coat sleeve and unfolded the parchment. The bright moonlight reflected on a single line in Alec’s large scrawl.
Gone to London.
Why would Alec go to London so suddenly, unless...
Was he in danger? Heart pounding, she flipped the sheet over but found no additional message on the back. Not visible, anyway, and she’d left her solution—the one that allowed her to see Alec’s hidden messages—at Rowan Abbey in her haste to leave.
The dog barked two more times, then hushed. Leah pivoted on her heel and began the long walk back to Rowan Abbey, a journey no doubt made more difficult by the still-sore bruises on her foot, the souvenir of her confrontation with Fleming. Perhaps Chambelston would agree to retrieve the solution—in exchange for Alec’s information.
* * *
Fatigue burned in Julian’s eyes and sat heavily on his shoulders as he piloted the horse back onto Sotherton lands. How like those late nights and long watches on his ships. The moon had sunk low in the sky, creating dancing shadows of the breeze-tossed branches. In a couple hours a new day would dawn, yet another new chapter in his life. The loneliness, so recently mitigated, resumed. Intensified.
“Chambelston!”
Julian jerked on the reins as a form rose from behind the stone fence that paralleled the road. The horse shied, leaving him to scramble to maintain his seat. Once he had the animal under control, he peered at the intruder. “Harrison?”
“Sorry about that, my lord. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“My own fault. I was nearly asleep.” But he was awake now. Julian dismounted. “What’s happened?”
“I wish I knew. All I heard was talk of London.”
“London?” Julian’s empty stomach churned with memories of the riot that had caused his father’s injuries. “The last meeting there turned violent. Do you know where they intend to assemble?”
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I learned no further details.”
So the activity at Wellingborough was a feint, a pretense designed to distract attention from the group’s real aims. Did Miss Vance know, even as he carried her to her destination tonight? Even as he foolishly provided her funds to begin a new life? “We can hardly search all of London for them. Do we know anyone who might be willing to assist us? Perhaps for a fee?”
“Your governess...?”
“Has left my sister’s employ.”
But Harrison stared past Julian, at the road behind him. “My lord...”
Julian turned, his agitation transforming to astonishment at the shadowy figuring limping toward them. He motioned Harrison to silence and the two of them waited as she approached. “Miss Vance?”
“My lord, I...” Her gaze flickered to Harrison before focusing on Julian again.
“Perhaps I should wait for you over by the large tree, my lord.” Harrison sidled back.
“Wait!” Julian held up a hand as he deliberated the situation. Miss Vance hugged her bundle, her cheeks pinched with cold. Why had she returned? Their recent conversation about trust—and their lack thereof—returned to him. Alone he and Harrison had little chance of success. Either Miss Vance had come to help, or they would fail anyway. “This is Lawrence Harrison. He is assisting me in my inquiries.”
Harrison smiled. “Miss Vance, I’ve heard much about you.”
“No doubt, Mr. Harrison.” Miss Vance offered him a graceful nod then looked to Julian again. “My lord, I have bad news. I fear my...contact has left the area.”
“For London.”
Her eyes widened. “Then you know.”
“Alas, no more details than that. Do you?”
“Perhaps.” She passed him a folded sheet of paper.
Julian opened the note and peered at the single line in the lustrous moonlight. “But this only mentions London.”
“Perhaps not.” Her hand shook a little as she flipped the note over to expose the blank back of the page. “Alec and I use special inks to communicate the sensitive parts of our messages—inks that can only be read when the proper solution is applied.”
A thrill shot up Julian’s spine. “Alec?”
She paused, drew in a deep breath. “My cousin. He...is a member of the...group.” That particle of trust for which he’d been waiting.
Her cousin. And perhaps the identity of her gentleman friend? Julian pushed those thoughts aside for a later examination. “When did you get this?”
“In the stable, while you were saddling the horse.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “If I had read it then, we could have saved ourselves a lot of effort tonight. At a minimum I’d have known to avoid Heckton.”
“Do you have the solution in your bag?”
“No. I kept it in my desk in the schoolroom. I didn’t even think to retrieve the bottle when I had to gather my belongings so swiftly.”
“May I?” Harrison stretched forth a hand. Miss Vance surrendered the paper. Harrison scrutinized the blank back. “I think Miss Vance might be correct. One of the disadvantages of such inks is that if the writer is not careful, he may leave scratches where none are supposed to be. See these lines? They are possibly those of a quill point.”
“Alec was always careful.” Miss Vance defended her cousin as Harrison returned the note to her.
“But if he were in a hurry, he might not have wasted time with caution.” Julian stretched the tight muscles in his calves, feeling the twinge all the way to his thighs. “Do you have any idea when your cousin might have written this message?”
Another hesitation. And then...another measure of trust glimmered in her eyes. “Tonight. After you saw me walking beyond Rowan Abbey.”
After...because she had met with him only this past afternoon? Had he solved the mystery of the unknown gentleman? “We need to determine if Miss Vance’s relative conveyed any more information.”
“Alec seldom informed me about his actions. He preferred to keep silent—for my sake as well as his.” Her hands trembled as she tucked the note inside her coat again. “Such a correspondence is...unusual.”
Harrison shoved his hands into his pockets. “My lord, we have kept Miss Vance outside far too long. Perhaps she could retrieve her solution, and then we can determine our next course of action.”
“I’ll go.” Julian offered before Miss Vance had to confess to her dismissal. He shrugged out of his greatcoat and wreathed it around her shoulders. The hem brushed against the snow.
“But my lord, I can’t take your coat. You’ll get cold—”
“I’ll ride back to Rowan Abbey and have Wetherel prepare the carriage while I get the solution. The two of you can wait here, then I’ll collect you on the way. Where exactly should I look in the desk?”
“On the left side. In the back. I have both the solution and a bottle of my own ink in there. Bring both and I will show you the correct one when you return. And don’t forget to grab a brush from the paints.”
“You kept the ink and solut
ion together? That wasn’t wise.”
Another smile touched her eyes. “I never said they worked together. Alec has the solution for that ink, and—”
“Your solution works with Alec’s ink. I grow curious about this cousin of yours. I should like to meet him.”
The muscles in her jaw tightened. “That may happen sooner than you think.”
Julian shoved a weary leg into the stirrup and climbed back into the saddle. “I shall look forward to it, Miss Vance.”
* * *
Leah pulled up the collar of Chambelston’s coat—only to catch a whiff of warm male drifting to her senses. The pounding of hooves faded in the distance. She glanced at the man standing beside her, caught his scrutiny, then hastily jerked her gaze away. How much had Chambelston confided in this Harrison? How much did he know about her?
How...awkward.
“Miss Vance, is it?”
She peeked at him again. The gray light of approaching day revealed a pleasant enough face below the battered hat that crowned his head. “Yes.”
“I understand you were of late the Sotherton governess.”
“Yes.”
“What do you think might be in this note?”
“Oh, I couldn’t speculate.”
“I once knew an Alec Vance.”
Warning bells clanged in Leah’s head. “I’m sure it’s a fairly common name.”
“During the war.”
“Undoubtedly, many men of like age served.”
“We had occasion to work together. My position frequently required the use of unusual...tools of war. Such as invisible inks and their solutions.”
The cold lanced through the slash in her boot and sent the wintry chill shooting up her spine. If this Harrison did indeed know Alec, Chambelston would have little enough reason to take her to London. And she must go with them. She must be there if—when—Chambelston located her cousin. “As I said, Vance is not uncommon.”
“If you say so, Miss Vance.”
Did that mean he wouldn’t challenge her on the matter when Chambelston returned? “How long have you known Lord Chambelston?”
“Scarcely more than a year. However, I know his brother very well.”
His brother. “The linguist?”
