Lady Caraway's Cloak, page 20
The latter, though the most horrible, seemed the most likely. The Prince Valmont was a man of cunning and strategy. He would not like a scandal any more than the next man, and dragging Robin through the courts would undoubtedly be that.
She wondered if he suspected the earl’s identity and had to assume that he did. Already, thanks to the dowager and her cronies’ ready tongues, rumors, once quashed, were once again rife. Gracious, she had even overheard Lady Claremont rather archly remark that she should hold a masked ball, for then it would give everyone the opportunity to fashionably attire themselves as pirates, and what a stir that would cause!
There was nothing, Lady Claremont dramatically claimed, so invigorating as the sight of a gentleman in skin tight breeches with a powdered wig (for she seemed to think that this unfashionable frippery was a necessary accoutrement to being a corsair of the first stare) and a patch.
She seemed to know nothing of the grime, and the blackening from cannon powder, and the strong scent of rum and candle wax, and the congealing of blood—or that privateers, intent on their loot, fought among themselves almost as much as against their victims, who were often ruthlessly cast overboard.
Serena knew not much of the matter either, but her views were less romantic, and she was inclined to disregard Lady Claremont as just another bubbleheaded fool. Be that as it may, her romanticization of the trade did little for Robin, who everyone now looked to with ill-concealed interest.
Rumors that had faded were now remembered and circulated, so much so that they could easily have come to the ready ears of the likes of His Royal Highness, Prince Valmont of ... where was he from again? Some little European state, she could not precisely recall. It mattered little.
If he put the pieces together, it could be extremely dangerous for the earl, for the prince, playing a double game, would be excessively careful not to let himself be duped. Serena did not for a moment imagine that Robin was simply after gold, as was the case with most of the pirates off the coasts of England and Spain. Even if he proved to be involved in smuggling, rather than the more nefarious piracy, she still did not think that profit drove him particularly.
Not when he had at his disposal all of the rents of Caraway and his American plantations besides. She did not know the sum of these, but the Caraway yields were excellent, despite the ruinous state of the castle itself. No, she did not think Lord Robin would risk his neck and his reputation for mere pecuniary gain.
What, then? “The end justifies the means.” The words were so obvious they flew into this context. The unscrupulous means must surely be justified by the intended outcome. That meant that the end was worth more than the villainous acts of robbing, dueling, and sinking ships laden with cargo. There could only be one end to which this could be applicable—the service of King and country, and the treatment of the boarded ships as enemy vessels. Prince Valmont, supposedly neutral, was known, in most inner circles, to be conspiring against the Regent.
The Prince of Wales, whether held in the thrall of blackmail, or in the thrall of Valmont’s intriguing personality, seemed an easy target in these times. It was left to the likes of the Earl of Caraway to see that justice prevailed and that the good name of the Regent remained unbesmirched. More importantly, it was his task, along with those of Major Rittledon, and his aides, to maintain the security of the nation. If the Prince had secretly signed an alignment treaty against Russia, or contrary to the Versailles agreement ... Serena’s eyes widened. Robin, if he was adopting the pose of pirate, would surely—must surely, act in haste.
Something told her he would not object in the least, for those lazy, smiling eyes always hinted he relished the chase. For some time, she suspected she had been the chase.
This time, unfortunately, the victim was going to be a thousandfold less susceptible to his wiles. No contest, really, for even thinking of him made her pulses faster and her breathing ever so slightly shallower.
But there was no time to reflect, or to dream, or to even demur about setting her horses to at this late hour. By now, the wheelwright was to have solved the problem of her carriage, and if he hadn’t, she would just have to borrow Lady Fanny’s barouche, for she needed to reach London—and my lord the earl—as soon as was humanly possible. She had the grace of this evening, but after that, Prince Valmont’s men would be posted.
She wondered how much this intelligence would upset Robin’s plans. But he needed to be warned if he was to do the stalking, rather than become the stalked. Serena felt physically sick at the thought of Prince Valmont, who had once languidly inclined his superior, Brutus-style head in her direction, but had made no push to offer her his hand, though a slight leer, as the evening advanced, had apparently been in order. She did not like the man, she could not say she liked him at all!
As for the princess, she was still talking rapidly in that unique blend of English, French, and her native tongue which caused Lady Fanny to listen closely, and to nod intently to half a dozen different assertions that made no sense in any language at all. Serena did not stop to pity her. The dowager had made her own bed and must now lie in it. The entire party now seemed to expect entertainment, and the only instrument in the dower house had all its Holland covers on and had not been tuned for a sennight at least.
“Lady Fanny, you must excuse me, but I am already late returning to London.”
“Late? What nonsense is this, Serena, when I depend on you to open the madrigals!”
“I am sorry, madam, but I cannot leave your daughter unchaperoned for this evening. We are to be escorted to the theater and to Vauxhall if it is fine ...”
“What care I? It is not as if she is making the slightest effort to contract a suitable alliance—she is already betrothed, is she not?” This in a whispered hiss, with Lady Fanny’s fingers firmly digging into Serena’s arm. Even through the sleeve of her sensible serge traveling dress, it hurt.
“Yes, but that does not mean she can attend theatres unchaperoned, let alone Vauxhall!”
“Well, if she has any sense she will claim the headache and stay home. Serena, you simply must stay! I cannot be expected to hostess eleven—yes, it is eleven, I counted—foreigners and the princess!”
“Then tell them so!.”
‘Oh, must you joke even at a time like this?”
“I am never more serious.”
“Then you have far less wits than I give you credit for. You do not tell a princess of the blood to go home!”
Serena tried to check her exasperation, but failed. “Then do not! Fanny, you invited them. You entertain them!”
“I invited them for a garden party two weeks ago, not for today! You are a wicked, hardhearted wench. I always knew it. And what, pray, shall they eat? My stocks are limited.”
“Call on the castle kitchens and alert the gamekeeper to provide you with all the pheasant and partridge you need. Keep a tally so I may inform the earl and reimburse him his loss.”
“Well, that is something, at least. “ The tone was grudging, but a little more mollified.
“I must go ... it is more than the theater. Fanny, did you hear that reference to pirates?”
“Yes, and I do not like it at all! Something smoky is going on and if we are involved in a scandal I shall hold you personally accountable.”
“Well, this was a turnaround!”
“Then you will not expose the earl?”
“No, for it will give Lady Bowbeck far too much pleasure!”
Serena was relieved, but did not place too much weight on the dowager’s words. Fanny might mean what she said now, but if she was flattered by the prince ...”
“Swear you will say nothing to Valmont!”
“So dramatic! Yes, yes, I swear!”
“And keep the ladies at Caraway as long as you can. As long as they are here, Valmont cannot cast off.”
There was nothing further Serena could say, for it would look passing strange for the lady of the house to be speaking any length of time in hushed whispers when there were exalted guests to be attended to.
So, as Serena smiled and backed through a French door, doubling back on the other side and racing across the cobbles in her slippered feet to the stables, Lady Fanny rapped the knuckles of a certain lady-in-waiting and rather archly announced that since it was such a pleasant day—poetic license, for it had now become drearily overcast and promising of rain—they should all take a stroll through the gardens and try their hands at the famous Caraway maze that had been cultivated for the amusement of visitors.
Three hours later, stuck in the center of the labyrinth with no map as Fanny had not thought to bring one, the guests were not quite so enchanted as they had been. Fortunately, rain still only threatened, but several ladies were shivering in their delicate muslins and the princess was indulging in a strong fit of the hysterics, rivaled only by Fanny’s own. All this, however, is another story entirely and one that Serena, engrossed in conversation with her coachman, knew nothing about at all.
Chapter Eighteen
“It be threatening rain, me lady. The roads will be no-but a series of puddles from ’ere to Essex.”
“Can you do it?”
“I could do it wiv me bleeding eyes shut, saving me language, me lady, but it won’t nohow be an easy ride for yer, and as for the maid ... well, she’ll be bawlin’ ’er eyes out after the first turn!”
“Davina is not with me, remember? I brought Mrs. Hitchens from the cottages in her stead. So you see, it is only me you have to worry about, and I promise not to disgrace myself!”
The coachman grinned, for though he had only just been placed in Serena’s employ, he thought he knew a game pullet when he saw one.
“ ’Oy, miss, but savin’ yer pardon, loik, you canna be driving without so much as a lady’s maid! ’Av no-but ’eard the loiks, I ’aven’t!”
“Well, you hear the likes now, Mr. Wilks! I need to return urgently to London and if you hurry, we need not stop at any of the posting houses along the way. The horses are well fed and watered, I checked them myself. Not a soul shall know I travel without a maid.”
“Oi oi, me lady!” The coachman grinned. “I ’ave a blunderbuss at the ready, and a tin horn, too, so if them ’ighwaymen try to cross yer path, they shall ’ave Aldus Wilks to deal wiv, that they will!”
Serena smiled at his verve, and found herself staring, in turn, at two black holes, where teeth once graced his noble noggin, as she laughingly, though very improperly, thought in cant.
“Thank you, Mr. Wilks, and you may be very sure a large tankard of the finest brew awaits you at York Terrace! Can we first just tool around to the bailif’s quarters, just a wee way beyond those trees? I have left my cloak and would not wish to travel without it.” Would not like it to be discovered in so incriminating a spot, she revised in her head, but only smiled charmingly at Wilks, who was at once her slave.
It was a mere matter of fifty yards before the moment Robin had been impatiently waiting for—occurred at last. Serena, unsuspecting, did not wait for the coach step to be laid out for her, but rather leapt from the chaise, muddying the rim of her gown as she did so. Then, motioning Mr. Wilks to wait—and what else could he do, with four horses to manage?—she inserted her key in the lock.
It turned at once, almost as though it had been oiled—which it had been, for Robin was now practically dead with boredom—and Serena soon found herself in the room that was now almost familiar. She looked about her for her cloak, but it was not laid out on the chair where she could swear she had left it.
“This is yours, I believe?”
She swung round, her heart beating more wildly than ever she thought possible. There, facing her, looking more impossibly attractive than ever, but rather forbidding in his high starched points and shining buckles, was the very man Serena was flying to London to warn.
“Robin!” She said his name, even as she knew “My lord,” or “Lord Caraway!” would have been the more appropriate greeting.
“Your cloak, Serena Addington Winthrop Caraway? I have been a fool.”
“I am sorry.” The words were a whisper, for Serena realized that there was no turning back, no faking one last letter, no turning, anymore, from the truth.
“Why did you do it?”
“It is not so very great a crime!”
“It is when you compound it with lie after lie!”
“That is better, surely, than pretending to be a gentleman when you really are no more than a pirate!”
“Do you believe that?” The words were suddenly sharp, and slightly bitter.
“I do not know what to believe!”
“I think you do, though we are wasting time in the argument.” Robin leaned forward and swift as a dart drew something out from the folds of her cloak. It was not the diary that had tormented him, but another, more pleasant, more alluring, more exquisite discovery. It was the ribbon, the single red ribbon that had tied up his hair.
Serena flushed. “Give that back, it is mine!”
“Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“You are not an exotic parrot, do not repeat every scintillating word I utter! Answer the question.”
“I do not have to.”
“Yes, Serena, you do. I am tired of games.” Robin’s voice was suddenly very low as he drew her toward him. His grip was nothing like the teasing caress of the waltz. It was tight, and unyielding, and really rather stern. His lips were but inches from her own, but they did not look like they were going to kiss her. They looked forbidding.
Startled, Serena relented, but not without one pert arrow of her own. “And I am tired of fearing for your life, Robin Red-Ribbon!”
“So you know?”
“Of course I know! The whole of London knows, by the sound of it, though I have worked like the very devil to scotch any breath of whispers. I fear for you, Robin, because it is not only I who knows, but also the Prince Valmont. It can be no coincidence that he is berthed at upper Leith when you are here, at Caraway.”
“No coincidence, just good fortune.” The grip upon her sleeve released almost to a feather-light touch. It might just as well have remained as a grip, however, for the simple touch once more burned into her skin like the veriest brand.
“Why are you scotching the scandal rather than sending me hair and hide to Newgate?”
“Why are you smiling at me when I have deceived you?”
“Touché, question for question, but unless I kiss you I fear neither of us will have the answers we seek.”
“You cannot kiss me here!”
“Why not? It is a very pleasantly furbished room and I have been looking forward to doing so, with agonizing intensity, ever since I discovered your cloak here this morning.”
“You have been here all day?”
“You have employed a lazy wheelwright, I fear. Mine could have managed in half the time.”
“He was in Upper Leith, at Prince Valmont’s ...” Serena dodged the mouth that was hovering tantalizingly close and was playing havoc with all her good sense, not to mention teasing the most wicked of her senses. She ducked from his grasp, but not without a sigh that my lord heard and found profoundly enjoyable.
“Good God, Robin! You cannot stay here! They are preparing a trap for you! I came to warn you, which is why poor Wilks is tooling the horses outside!”
“Send him away.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Send him back to Caraway. We have no need of him, for The Albatross is berthed just a few leagues offshore and I am about to abduct you.”
Serena took a few moments to understand. “You mean ... my lord, you must be out of your senses!”
“No more than you were when you pretended to be my bailiff!”
“It is a whole different matter!”
“... and one we shall quite forcibly pursue in the comfort of my cabin.”
“Over my dead body, my lord.”
“I am very much afraid it might have to be, ma’am. I am known to be an excellent shot, you know.”
“You are behaving precisely as a pirate!”
“Why so indignant? I am one!”
“Nonsense! You do not fool me for a moment, my lord courier, and if you are not acting for the Regent I shall eat the stuffing from my bonnet! Now, if you persist in putting your arms about me I shall have to scream.”
“And have Mr. Wilks rush in to rescue you?”
Serena, in a daze of happiness, for while the earl sounded very fierce indeed, he was commencing his promised activity really very gently, and she found the strange butterfly kisses across her throat quite entrancing, never mind impossible to resist ... .
“You are a rogue.”
“ Indeed, but I cannot tell you how gratified I am that I do not have to return the compliment and call you a bailiff! It is a very salutary thing, you know, to find oneself in love with one’s manservant. I have suffered most severely for it, for after the second of your letters, in which you had me in a fit of hysterics, I was a condemned man.”
“I am sorry. There seemed no other way ...”
“It has been ... intriguing for me, Serena.”
“Then you are not angry?”
“Oh, I am very angry indeed. I shall have to punish you aboard my ship.”
“Are you making improper advances?”
“Very improper, though I might as well also mention that I fully intend to make you my lady wife. “
“Then you shan’t dally with me in your cabin, my lord, for I will surely then be compromised beyond redemption.”
“You are right. So young but so wise. I shall save that pleasure, and tease you, rather, in full sight of my crew!’
“You couldn’t!”
“Do not look so shocked, you know perfectly well I can!”
Serena remembered the waltz and the last time she had been aboard The Albatross and tried very hard not to flush. It was almost impossible not to, however, for though one can hide a smile or cast one’s eyes in a different direction, or flutter lashes to hide an expression, one cannot, really, stop the color rising to one’s cheeks. My lord, seeing this dilemma, laughed, almost as though he had not a care in the world rather than a fleet of mustard-garbed guards gathering in a hundred different shadows to trap him.
