Blackhaven Brides (Books 5–8)

by Lancaster, Mary

  “Did he, by God?” Rupert said, interestedly.

  “He did. And when I suggested he buy it himself, he told me his English was not good enough. Of course, I was immediately suspicious it was some trick or other to part me from the few coins in my purse, so I merely held it tighter and hurried away. And only then did it strike me.”

  She paused, as though for dramatic effect. “He could be a fugitive. He could be the prisoner everyone is looking for!”

  “He could at that,” Tamar agreed, far too interested to please Anna. “I think we should probably send to the fort and Major Doverton. And to Winslow, too. What did he look like, your Frenchman?”

  “Tall.” Mrs. Elphinstone shuddered. “Dirty fair hair poking out from under a floppy, wide-brimmed hat. He was not ill-looking, just very furtive. Oh, and he wore a torn leather coat.”

  Anna’s eyes fixed on the governess’s face. Was she lying? Why would she? This made no sense to Anna, for while it was perfectly possible that Louis had gone to Whalen, it was highly doubtful he would have done so in his highwayman’s disguise. Was this the other Frenchman Louis had mentioned? Coincidentally resembling Louis’s highwayman? Dubious.

  “Come, Mrs. E.,” Tamar said cheerfully, striding to the door. “We had better call on Major Doverton at the barracks. Have tea without me, my dear,” he threw over his shoulder at Serena. “I’ll be back in time to escort you to the theatre.”

  *

  Anna again donned the silver-grey gown and joined her brother and sister-in-law to go to the play in Blackhaven. As they took their seats in the Braithwaite box, she was already searching for Louis in the rows of boxes and the seats in the pit. She kept her anxiety hidden but she could not banish the fear that Mrs. Elphinstone’s information might have led to Louis’s capture. Even though she could not quite believe the information.

  The governess’s motives eluded her, but the woman was French by birth and she bore watching.

  Rupert said Doverton and Winslow were taking the information seriously and had moved their patrols from Blackhaven to Whalen. It made sense in many ways, since from Whalen, Louis could easily take ship directly to Ireland, America, or anywhere else he chose.

  Only, Anna was sure he had no intention of going. Not yet. And never if she won him over.

  The theatre was like a miniature of those Anna had attended in London, and because of its size, it created an atmosphere of coziness that made her slightly uncomfortable. Acquaintances from the other boxes bowed and smiled to her, a civility she returned, just as if there was not only one face she wished to see.

  In the pit, sat men and women of the lower orders, cheek-by-jowl with several young gentlemen, including Mr. Banion, who, quizzing glass raised to his eye was searching the boxes with more open fervor. He dropped the glass to smile and bow when he came to Anna and Serena.

  “He does pay you particular attention,” Serena murmured.

  “I cannot imagine why.”

  “You are new here, and beautiful, and no doubt you pique his desires by appearing to be unaware of his existence.”

  Anna cast her a cynical glance. “But I am the worst of all possible worlds. I combine the highest birth with the lowest income—none at all—and a scandalous upbringing. Trust me, he is not considering marriage!”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Serena murmured. “I more than considered marriage with Tamar, after all.”

  “Tamar is a man,” Anna pointed out.

  “I am,” Rupert agreed, catching the tail-end of their conversation. “Everyone agrees on that.”

  The curtain went up on stage and most of the theatre quieted as the farce began. A few minutes later, the curtain dividing their box from the passage outside, swished. The hairs on the back of Anna’s neck prickled. She knew before she turned that Louis had entered the box, and sheer relief swamped her. Her smile of welcome was spontaneous and the answering glimmer lit his eyes before he moved to formally greet Serena.

  Anna’s excitement had little to do with the play as he pulled a chair up and sat behind her, in the relative gloom by the right-hand curtain.

  “You are a creature of the shadows,” she mocked.

  “I am. And I don’t want to give those officers down there any help to recognize me.”

  “Are they from the fort?” Anna asked quickly.

  “One of them is.”

  She lowered her voice further. “Were you in Whalen today?”

  “No, why?”

  “What did you do with the highwayman’s coat?” she breathed.

  “I buried it,” he said unexpectedly.

  Could someone else have found it? Or was Mrs. Elphinstone leading the authorities on a wild goose chase? Improbable. Instead, it was far more likely that Anna had just grown too suspicious. Mrs. Elphinstone had been accosted by a suspicious Frenchman and possibly endowed him unconsciously with the escaped prisoner’s description. The important thing was that he was here and free. And in spite of everything, Anna’s spirits soared.

  She turned her slightly breathless attention back to the stage and soon even found herself laughing. Everything, from the play to the danger still presented by the officers in the audience, seemed to be heightened by his presence.

  Then, he leaned forward abruptly, his breath stirring her ear. “Who is the man in the natty puce waistcoat? In the pit, just behind the girl with orange hair.”

  Anna looked down. “That is Mr. Banion. Serena thinks he admires me.”

  His gaze burned into her face, thrilling and yet unyielding. The man even Bonaparte found too dangerous to live.

  “Then you have known him some time?” he murmured.

  She shrugged. “No, just since I came to Blackhaven. But I believe he has been here for some time. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  Anna looked into his eyes, colder and harder than she had ever seen them. Fear coiled in her stomach, squeezing. Dear God, had she really imagined she could get the better of him?

  Yet it was not in her nature to back down. She would fear nothing and no one ever again.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said flatly.

  *

  For Louis, Anna’s answers changed everything. Well, not that he would kill Gosselin, but everything else. Catching sight of his enemy the other day had been a shock. He had not expected him so soon, but even so, Louis had immediately imagined his plan was working, that his escape had lured Gosselin to Blackhaven so speedily. Fierce elation had filled him, because after six months, his moment was finally at hand.

  Until Anna had spoken. Gosselin, as Banion, had insinuated himself into local society before Louis’s escape from the Black Fort. Which meant Gosselin’s English had improved drastically. And that either he had come here for reasons that had nothing to do with Louis, or that he had come to kill Louis personally when his attempt by proxy had failed.

  The latter was not in character if he had believed Louis to be safely out of the way in prison. But it was not impossible either…

  As the curtain came down for the first interval, Gosselin—Mr. Banion—rose from his seat at once, making his way to the stairs that led to the upper boxes. For an instant, mindless emotion almost seized control of Louis. He would turn and face his enemy, kill him where he stood with his bare hands…

  But, of course, that was insanity. For one thing, he would be overpowered and imprisoned, probably even before the killing was done. For another, a lifetime of training convinced him there was more to learn here.

  Visitors were already streaming into the Tamars’ box, so Louis was able to slip out unnoticed by anyone. Except possibly Anna. Though she did not so much as glance at him, keeping her gaze fixed instead on the gentlemen Serena was presenting to her. And yet, he was sure she knew he left.

  He did not go far, merely milled among the people in the corridor, waiting for his quarry to appear from the staircase. “Banion” sauntered by without even looking. Of course, Gosselin had never been used to getting his hands dirty and putting
himself in this kind of danger. He did not know how to look out for enemies in a crowd. And he did not try, which meant he didn’t expect to see Louis here at the center of Blackhaven society. And yet everyone knew of the escaped prisoner. Did Gosselin, too, believe that he was the highwayman who’d ridden north into Scotland? And if so, why was he still here?

  No, Gosselin had come for some other reason entirely. The question now, was whether or not Anna knew that reason. Was she simply a slightly damaged aristocrat playing with fire in the shape of an escaped enemy prisoner? Or did she have deeper motives?

  He didn’t return to the box but left the theatre to avoid being seen by Gosselin, aiming to pick up any information he could about “Mr. Banion”.

  In the street, by chance, he came upon the two gentlemen he’d encountered at Tamar’s studio. Sauntering along in the direction of the theatre, they greeted him like an old friend.

  “Not going to the theater, old man?” one asked cheerfully. He was a young officer of the 44th, whose name, Louis thought, was Gordon.

  “I’ve just left,” Louis said, deliberately morose. It was time to play the jealous lover.

  “Acting that bad?” the other asked sympathetically. His name was Fenner.

  “I barely noticed it to be truthful,” Louis replied. “Just couldn’t bear the sight of some fellow fawning all over Tamar’s sister.”

  Lieutenant Gordon cocked an intelligent eyebrow. “Banion?”

  “That’s the fellow.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Fenner said. “The clever money’s on you.”

  Louis allowed himself to frown. “You’re betting on this?”

  “Only discreetly,” Gordon said hastily. “Ignore Fenner, he’s half-cut.”

  “Who is this Banion anyhow?” Louis asked.

  “Decent enough fellow. Came here to get over a bad bout of measles. His father has land in east Yorkshire, apparently, and his mother was a French émigré.”

  Which would cleverly explain any slip-ups of accent or words, Louis thought, impressed in spite of himself. Gosselin had never been lacking in intelligence.

  “Where does he lodge?” Louis asked.

  “Got a neat little house on Cliff View,” Fenner told him. “But, I say, Lewis, you ain’t going to call him out?”

  “Lord, no.”

  “Good,” said Gordon. “Because it was you she danced with at the masquerade. We all know that. And he don’t have anything like your address.”

  “What do you mean?” Louis asked, temporarily thrown.

  “I mean you’re a much more appealing cove. Ladies all like you, give you my word. Come on, Fenner, let’s get to the play before it finishes! Sure you won’t come with us, Lewis?”

  “No, I won’t, but I thank you and wish you a pleasant evening.”

  Louis watched them go, then waited in the shadows until the patrons began to spill out of the theatre. Gosselin came out alone and walked straight down the road as if he were going home. Ever wary, he would be careful not to expose himself too much and risk making mistakes.

  Louis walked casually into the light, meaning to follow him. Only, the Tamars emerged from the front door just in front of him, and he paused. Serena had stopped to talk to someone while Anna held back, as she often did. Few people appeared to interest her. She found normal social civilities constricting and unnecessary. Louis rather liked that in her. The child who’d grown up wild with little or no supervision, was only partially tamed. For the rest, she went her own way.

  “Anna,” he murmured.

  Her body seemed to still. She didn’t spin around in fright at his suddenness. In some way, she trusted him.

  She turned with grace. “Sir Lytton. I thought you had abandoned us.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Tamar has bespoken supper at the hotel. I’m sure he meant you to join us.”

  “Alas, I cannot.”

  She merely inclined her head, as if she did not care, and yet for some reason, he was sure she did.

  “I would rather see you alone,” he murmured before she could walk away. “Tomorrow morning, in the Braithwaite woods.”

  She regarded him for an instant. “Is this an assignation or a conspiracy?”

  He smiled. “Both. Neither. Whatever you like.”

  “Nine of the clock,” she said abruptly. “Or I shan’t be there.”

  She walked away without a second glance.

  His dying smile slightly twisted, Louis strode off in the other direction after Gosselin, who was no longer in sight. However, by the time he reached Cliff View, he had caught up enough to see his enemy walk up the path of a neat little house and let himself in with a key.

  Since a watchman with a lantern was approaching, Louis merely sauntered past and said a polite good evening to the Watchman. There would be better opportunities to search the house, when Gosselin was not in it. Instead, he kept going until he came to the beach.

  A path wound down the rocky cliffside to the sand. Before taking it, Louis stood at the top like a slightly morose drunk taking in the view while feeling sorry for himself. There were no soldiers watching the cove below. Had they given up on him escaping that way?

  Louis strolled only a little way down until he found a comfortable rock to sit on with his back against the cliff. From habit, he chose the place because it hid him from the road and some scrubby bushes concealed him from the sea side. Though, in fact, he was mostly there just to rest and to watch any smuggling activity that might take place. It would be too lucky to catch Gosselin making plans with the smugglers, although he could hope. As it stood, he had no idea what was going on.

  His wound still pained him, often in sharp, nagging ways. But he believed it was healing inside as well as out, and he had no intention of pushing himself into any unnecessary fights and risking his recovery. It was a cold night, too, with frost forming and glistening, so he meant only to stay and think for a little. But the fine view of the moonlit sea and the ship anchored in the distance was curiously soothing, and he stayed until he was too cold.

  As he began to rise, his gaze focused on a darker blur in the sea surrounded by rhythmic ripples. It was a boat rowing ashore from the ship.

  Louis dropped back down again, no longer noticing the cold. He more than half-expected to see Gosselin slip down to the beach to wait for the arrival, but no one did. As the boat drew nearer, he made out the shapes of several men and a woman. Two of the men jumped out in the shallows and heaved the boat onto the beach for the others to jump out on to dry sand. One man lifted the woman out, carrying her ashore so that her feet didn’t get wet.

  Leaving the others on the beach, three men and the woman began to walk up the path. The men were all armed to the teeth. One carried a lantern and one carried a bulging carpet bag. If they were smugglers, they clearly weren’t doing much business. Unless…the woman was a spy returning from France? Or a French spy sent to Britain? Or she could simply be a refugee.

  And then, as they silently climbed the path, so close he could hear them breathing, the lantern light fell across several faces. And with a jolt, Louis recognized the saturnine features of the man who walked beside the young woman.

  Captain Alban.

  As a prisoner of war, Louis had been transferred from a naval vessel to this man’s ship. The captain, an abrupt Englishman, had a somewhat piratical past and not much reputation for loyalty until recent years when he had shown both willingness and an annoying ability to engage and defeat unsuspecting French ships. These days, he had every right to come ashore in his own country.

  So what was this silent, moonlit landing all about?

  From the road, came the unmistakable sound of horses’ hooves approaching at a slow pace. As though someone had been waiting with the animals not far from there.

  At the top of the cliff, Alban gave the carpet bag to one of the other men and took the woman into his arms. She was young and pretty enough, and well-dressed, too, but she looked far too respectable to be one of Alb
an’s women. She even wore spectacles that glinted in the lantern light. Nevertheless, Alban kissed her thoroughly and she appeared to cooperate fully.

  “Take care,” her voice whispered on the breeze.

  “Always,” came Alban’s deeper murmur. “Go.” He released her and she walked off with the other two men while Alban strode and slid his way down the path back to his boat. His men were already waiting to push off.

  His curiosity thoroughly roused, Louis crawled on his stomach to the top of the cliff, where he was in time to see the young woman and her escort mount on waiting horses and ride away out of Blackhaven.

  Well, it was interesting. But did it have anything to do with either himself or Gosselin? Louis waited a little longer, but his enemy never emerged from his house.

  *

  Anna returned from her early morning ride, reaching the woods with only about five minutes until nine o’clock. Although not sure exactly what she had been looking for, she liked to know the lie of the land and anything odd that might be happening in the extended neighborhood of Blackhaven. Especially after Mrs. Elphinstone’s curious sighting. But she had seen nothing odd, unless it was the absence of soldiers watching the coves and the harbor.

  A figure stepped out of the trees right in front of her.

  Her free hand—for she held the reins only in her left—flew to her wrist, where the stiletto fitted snugly into a pocket in the seam of her gloves.

  “Good morning,” said Louis mildly. “I thought you might keep me waiting.”

  “Well, there is no need to sneak,” she retorted.

  “I felt it was de rigeur for a clandestine assignation.”

  From habit, she was about to deny pithily that their meeting was any such thing. But she had already acknowledged that Louis was not a man she could lead by the nose, not without giving something in return. That “something” made her heart race, but it did not seem to be with revulsion. More, with…excitement.

  “I suppose it would ruin my reputation if I were seen alone with you at this time of the morning,” she agreed. “So, by all mean, let us be clandestine. I had better come down and let poor Chessy rest.”