Anne Ashley, page 21
The softer expression vanished in an instant and his lips set in that hard line of resolve. ‘You know why. We’ve been through it before.’
Her sigh this time was one of grudging acceptance. ‘Well, at least might I know when you expect to fulfil your mission?’
‘I’m afraid I cannot tell you that,’ he said. ‘Not because I don’t wish to,’ he hurriedly assured her, when she appeared hurt, ‘but because I genuinely don’t know myself. Sir Bartholomew has merely informed me that the trap has been set and that he believes Petersham’s cousin has taken the bait. So I don’t suppose it will be too long before Petersham himself receives the erroneous information. Because that is precisely what it is. Sir Bartholomew would never risk playing with lives by passing on any genuine secret information. And as far as I’m concerned… Well, I’m afraid I’m forced to play a waiting game. I must wait to hear from Will Norman when another run is planned and take things from there.’
‘But how can you be sure that Miles will pass on the information on the next occasion?’ Briony pointed out.
‘I can’t, of course,’ Luke was honest enough to admit. ‘But I cannot imagine he’ll be happy to kick his heels here in the country for too much longer. He enjoys the pleasures the capital has to offer far too much to remain away for longer than he needs to. Once he has the opportunity to clear his outstanding debts he’ll want to be back in the metropolis. Therefore I don’t suppose he’ll delay too long before making contact with his French counterpart.’
‘No, I don’t suppose he will,’ she agreed hollowly, knowing full well that Luke, too, was unlikely to delay his return to London, once his mission was completed.
* * *
Although she strived to behave quite normally, paying and receiving calls from neighbours and going about her daily tasks at the Manor, it was with an increasingly heavy heart that Briony passed the following two weeks. After waiting daily for the dreaded news that the smugglers planned to be abroad that night, she experienced, strangely enough, a sense of relief when that confirmation eventually did come.
One glance at Luke’s face as he entered the parlour was sufficient to convince her that something was afoot. There seemed an extra spring in his step, an added sparkle in those grey eyes of his. As much as she had feared the event, Luke, seemingly, had been awaiting it with a kind of suppressed excitement. His first words only served to confirm it.
‘It’s to be tonight, I’m pleased to tell you!’
She watched him drop into the chair opposite. She hadn’t seen him since breakfast. Which had hardly been a rare occurrence during the past month, she reminded herself, while wondering at the same time whether this sudden show of eagerness on his part stemmed from a determination to pick up the threads of his former life as quickly as possible.
‘What do you expect me to say?’ She continued with her sewing, knowing full well that she had sounded like some disgruntled child who had not been allowed its own way, but she simply couldn’t help it. ‘Do you expect me to wish you well? I should have thought that went without saying.’
He regarded her for a moment in thoughtful silence. ‘What’s wrong? I gained the distinct impression you were as keen as I am to get this business over and done with.’
Not if it means losing you, her heart longed to retort. But she clung silently to those most secret of feelings. Yet again the time was inappropriate. He would have enough to concern him this night without his thoughts straying to… To what? How best to rid himself of a makeshift wife as soon as possible? Given his slight aloofness in recent weeks, it was perhaps more sensible to accept here and now that she had quite failed to win his heart. She didn’t suppose for a moment he would derive any delight or satisfaction to discover that he had won hers. He would take no pleasure in causing her pain—of that she felt sure. He was a gentleman of strong principle, high-minded and astute, compassionate, yet at the same time resolute and courageous. Dear God, why, oh, why hadn’t she realised that from the first!
‘You haven’t answered my question, Briony,’ he reminded her gently, as she set her sewing aside at last and then went over to the window, her back towards him, signs of tension evident in every line of her slender frame. ‘What’s really troubling you?’
‘I know you’re determined to complete your assignment, Luke. I know it’s important for you to do so. But I also know it’s highly likely blood will be spilled this night… And I particularly don’t want it to be yours.’
She could say no more than that, not without revealing feelings she had done her utmost to conceal for so very many weeks. Yet, when he was all at once standing behind her, forcing her round to face him squarely by the simple expedient of placing his hands on her shoulders and exerting only sufficient pressure to turn her, she feared she had revealed too much already.
His eyes locked on to hers, searching, probing, as though determined to discover her most secret thoughts. His lips parted and for one heartstopping moment she believed he at last realised just how much he now meant to her and intended to say something, but then he merely ran his fingers down the length of her arms to grasp her wrists, holding them gently, yet firmly captive.
‘I shan’t insult your intelligence by attempting to pretend there’s no danger. Of course there is. But I’m reasonably confident, with all the careful planning, all the precautions taken, the risks are minimal, not only to myself, but for all involved, including those three young men engaged in smuggling against their will. They know the risks, but they’re prepared to take them in order to be free of the trade. And so am I prepared to take them…this one last time. You may be sure you shan’t suffer as a consequence of my actions. No matter what happens, you shall want for nothing.’
Nothing except you, she would have given much to reveal, but said quite matter of factly, ‘And here I am taking up so much of your precious time, time that would be better spent engaged elsewhere, I dare say.’ She stared down at his hands, wondering if this would be the last occasion she would feel their comforting warmth, then resolutely restrained the threat of tears. ‘I take it you are dining this evening?’
‘Yes, but not here,’ he surprisingly revealed, releasing his hold at last. ‘I’m dining with Colonel Maitland in his quarters. We need to finalise a few details.’
‘In that case, I’d best inform Janet I’ll be eating alone.’
He didn’t attempt to prevent her hurried departure, for which she was immensely relieved. She wasn’t sure for how much longer she could have maintained control and could only be thankful that her powers of restraint would not be tested again that day.
* * *
Yet later, as she got herself ready for bed, she was plagued by bitter regrets for not having had the courage to seek him out before he had finally left the house, if only to wish him luck, to tell him to take extra care. But, no, she had been too much of a coward for that. She had even taken the added precaution of concealing herself behind a parlour curtain so there was little likelihood of him catching a glimpse of her as she had watched him riding away from the house.
She closed her eyes at the all-too-recent memory, knowing full well that that might turn out to be the very last time she ever saw him alive. Why, oh, why had she been such a coward! Had her reticence to reveal her feelings on this last occasion truly stemmed from a genuine desire not to burden him with added considerations at a time when he needed to concentrate fully on an assignment of such vital importance? Or was it nearer the truth to acknowledge that she had feared his reaction, dreaded the possibility that her feelings were not reciprocated?
Picking up the candle, she rose from the dressing table and went across to the communicating door. Her fingers shook slightly as she took a grasp of the handle, as though to remind her that she was about to enter a domain where she had absolutely no right to be. Even so, she didn’t allow this to deter her from going into a room that she hadn’t clapped eyes on since the day her marriage had taken place. How long ago that seemed now! A lifetime ago!
Holding the candle aloft, she wandered into the centre of the chamber, staring about her as she did so. How very masculine it all was now! Gone were any traces of those former feminine touches, which had so characterised the room during its former occupant’s lifetime. The great four-poster bed, with its rich velvet curtains to ward off any chilly winter draughts, was without doubt the room’s most prominent feature. Like the man who occupied it, every line of the structure was solid and strong. Perhaps if she had shared the room, as she undoubtedly would have done on scores of occasions had she not been such a fainthearted little fool, then there would have been little feminine touches to be seen here and there. But as it was…
Her eyes strayed to the garments the valet some time during the evening had laid out so carefully on the bed in readiness for his master’s return. Setting the candle aside, Briony picked up the heavy brocade dressing gown and began absently to stroke the velvet collar lovingly, her mind instantly returning to the only occasion she had ever seen Luke wearing it. Given her time again, she would never dismiss his advances in such a naïvely cavalier fashion. But would that blessed gift of opportunity ever be granted again?
Although the long-case clock in the hall heralding the lateness of the hour did succeed in penetrating her dispiriting thoughts, it quite failed to turn them in a new direction as she returned to her own room. She glanced over at her own bed. How could she think of sleep at a time like this, when the man she loved was in danger? How could she ever bring herself to contemplate a life without him?
‘Oh, confound it!’ she exclaimed, throwing wide the wardrobe door.
* * *
As on that never-to-be-forgotten former occasion, the night was clear and still, the silence broken only by the occasional hooting of an owl and the rustling of leaves, Luke ruminated. Only this time, of course, he had not travelled alone. He shot a glance at his dependable companion, the man who had stood beside him during many a skirmish out in the Peninsula, and the man who had very nearly begged to be allowed to come along this time.
‘Had you not been so set on the notion of bearing me company, Ben, you would have been tucked up in a nice warm bed long before now,’ Luke reminded him.
‘Mistress would have expected me to come along.’
Luke smiled at the prompt response. ‘Well, with any luck, this will be the last time we face any sort of danger together.’
‘You think so, master?’ There was a strong hint of scepticism in the servant’s voice. ‘Now I come to think on it,’ he added after a moment, his voice now full of gentle warmth, ‘I dare say it might be, if young mistress has her way.’
Luke couldn’t suppress a further smile. Ben Carey’s respect was not easily won, but Briony had succeeded in gaining his utmost admiration. ‘Clearly you’re very fond of your mistress, Ben.’
‘Aye, sir, that I am. And with good reason! I don’t think many, man or woman, could have done what she did—take a piece of lead shot out of a man’s shoulder, then go on to nurse him for hours at a time through a high fever.’
No, you’re right. But why had she done so? Luke couldn’t help wondering. Had she left him to die that night, here in the open, or not done everything humanly possible to preserve his existence, she could have claimed every last penny of Lady Ashworth’s legacy. He felt sure the notary, Pettigrew, would have pleaded her cause so that she was not left destitute because of circumstances beyond her control.
Of course, things were so very different now. He had seen to that. Now she would want for nothing, because now she was his sole beneficiary. His feelings towards her had undergone such a drastic change. No, he hadn’t always loved her, he silently reminded himself. But he did now, oh, so very much.
Unbidden, an image of the very first time he had seen her after so many years appeared in his mind’s eye. When he had walked into Pettigrew’s office and she had been sitting there, looking so prim and proper, appearing every inch the demure, educated young lady, he had felt that pull of instant attraction—yes, of course he had! What red-blooded male would not? She was a very handsome young woman. Oh, no, she wasn’t, he silently amended, she was a damnably pretty one, almost a beauty, but not quite. Yet she had become so in his eyes, the very loveliest of women. And a most desirable one to boot!
He couldn’t suppress a wry smile as he marvelled at his powers of restraint. These past few months hadn’t been easy, that was for sure! If she had offered him the least encouragement to consummate their union that first night he would by now be the most blissfully contented man. But she had not and he had felt honour-bound to abide by the agreement to have the marriage annulled. What he had not for one moment taken into consideration when he had first proposed that marriage of convenience was the possibility that one day he might fall irrevocably in love with his own wife.
The realisation that fickle Fate was possibly enjoying herself hugely at his expense had really occurred to him for the first time on the night of their dinner party, when he had witnessed the easy camaraderie Briony had appeared to enjoy with that handsome young doctor. He had been both angry and jealous to discover the rogue holding his wife’s hands. Yet, when he had offered his own she had recoiled from him. So he had immediately taken himself to London in the hope of easing his frustrations and finding solace in the arms of his mistress. Yet, once there, he had not done so. All he had done was to take immediate steps to terminate his liaison with his light-o’-love.
Briony had constantly been in his thoughts throughout his stay in the capital, his mind’s eye plaguing him with her image both by night and by day, giving him no peace. Then, when he did return, she saved his life, an act that was never motivated by any thought of financial gain. Yet, when he attempted a closer, more physical relationship between them, she seemed to spurn his advances yet again. Keeping his distance had been somewhat forced upon him. It hadn’t been what he had wanted. But he was only flesh and blood, after all, and he dared not trust himself to be around her for too long for fear desire might overcome restraint and make him forget his promise.
Yet tonight when he had reached for her, she hadn’t recoiled at his touch, or attempted to break free from his hold. There had been something in her eyes, too, lurking there behind the evident anxiety over his safety, which had been so easy to read. If she cared enough to be anxious for his safety, might she now be willing…?
His heartening reflections were brought to an abrupt cessation by the familiar sound of a donkey braying, then moments later the murmur of voices. For a moment only a cloaked figure was visible among the several substantial bushes in the extensive shrubbery. Then it disappeared and other dark moving shadows began to follow down the sloping ground towards the cliff face. When all was silent again, Luke nodded, the signal for Ben Carey to make his way carefully out of the extensive grounds surrounding Petersham House. Although impeded somewhat by the injured right knee, Ben was able to move with surprising agility when the need arose and, more importantly, as stealthily as a cat. He had disappeared from view almost at once, on his way to liaise with both Colonel Maitland and Lieutenant Henshaw, who should, if all had gone according to plan, be stationed in the wood beyond the great house.
Alone, Luke let his thoughts begin to wander again back to the Manor and to a certain very special someone who, although undoubtedly abed at this hour, was unlikely to be asleep. He gave himself a mental shake. Now was not the time to lose one’s concentration, he told himself, forcing himself to stay alert. His vigilance was quickly rewarded by clear movements in the shrubbery. The booty was being carried up from the cove and strapped on to the backs of the donkeys. This was the danger time for the smugglers, of course, the time when, if caught with the goods, they risked transportation to the Antipodes, or worse.
The pack animals, now heavily laden, began to make their slow assent to the road. A long line of them, perhaps two dozen in all, Luke judged, made their way through the cover of the shrubbery, with half as many men. It would make a substantial haul for the young Customs’ Riding officer, if all went well. But he himself was after a different quarry, one that had yet to make the return journey from the cove.
His vigilance and patience was again rewarded. The tall figure swathed in the voluminous dark cloak once again appeared between two large clumps of bushes. The result Luke had striven for so long to achieve was almost within his grasp. Emerging from behind the marble statue, which had concealed him so well, he crossed the grassy area towards the shrubbery.
‘Well met, Miles,’ he said, instantly arresting the cloaked figure’s assent and making him visibly start.
‘Good gad, Kingsley!’ Not attempting to effect an escape, Miles emerged from the shrubbery, all at once seeming poised and in full control of himself. He even managed what looked remarkably like a semblance of a smile. ‘It would be foolish of me to ask what you’re doing on my father’s land. I should have trusted my instincts where you were concerned. I couldn’t quite understand what had induced you to remain for so long in this part of the world. Though I must confess I did come to believe your affection for your wife was genuine.’
‘You did not err over that, at least,’ Luke assured him. ‘I love my wife.’
‘And your country, too, it would seem.’ His eyes strayed momentarily to the gun clasped in Luke’s hand. ‘Unlike you, I am unarmed.’
‘The only thing you are carrying is a deal of traitor’s gold, I do not doubt,’ Luke responded, catching sight of the huge bulging bag beneath the cloak, held fast in Miles’s gloved hand. Any sympathy he might have retained for his captive died in that moment. ‘Does it never plague your conscience to wonder how many lives have been lost because of your treachery?’
The smile this time was not pleasant. ‘I’m afraid I cannot afford such honourable sentiments. But I cannot help wondering just what proof you have of my guilt.’ He looked about for effect. ‘Where are your witnesses, pray? I was merely disturbed by a noise and came out to investigate.’ He held up the bulging leather bag almost tauntingly. ‘And who is there to say that I didn’t very nearly have a run in with smugglers and happened to find this?’
