“Those soldiers suspected nothing,” Charles reassured her.
“But what if we meet with Father or Henry at an inn? We mustn’t stop anywhere!”
“We have to stop,” said Cyn with deliberate, authoritative calm.
“For one thing, Hoskins cannot drive all day without a halt. For
another, we all need food and rest. I will look after you. Besides, if
you fret, you’ll upset William again.” He held her eyes until she
relaxed a little, then smiled at her. She smiled tremulously back and
returned her attention to the child.
Cyn considered Charles, who looked distinctly strange. It must be
because of Toby’s words about Lord Cyn’s effect on women. He wondered
if they were doing his cause with his damsel good or harm. “I wish I’d
been able to ask Toby where your pursuers have made their headquarters.”
“You do know him, then?” Charles asked.
“Very well, but we haven’t met for three years. Don’t worry. He
won’t twig it. I really do have a cousin called Sarah Inchcliff who
lives near Goole.”
She nodded, and resumed her frowning contemplation of the passing scenery.
By great good fortune the exhausted baby dropped off to sleep again.
Cyn looked around for something to do, and saw the neat pile of
news-sheets. These were the ones Mrs. Crupley had wrapped around their
purchases. Nana had frugally saved them and sent them along in case
they came in use.
He picked them up and smoothed them out. “A wondrous miscellany. Three sheets of the
Gazette
, two of the
Morning Post
—all different dates—and a sheet of the
Grub Street Journal
.
I doubt there’s any news of interest, but have you heard of the latest
amusement? One reads the lines across the page to see what nonsense can
be made. Just occasionally it throws up a treasure. Let’s take a sheet
each.‘”
He became aware as he passed over the papers that Charles was strung
as tight as a bow. What could be alarming her now? She took her paper,
one of the
Morning Post
sheets, and looked first at the date. Then she relaxed. “Lud,” she said, “these are ancient. This is from ‘59.”’
So, thought Cyn, there could be something revealing in a more recent
newssheet. Something about Verity, or about his damsel herself?
Cyn scanned his paper. “Here’s one. It goes across from the
obituaries to the news from Gloucestershire. ‘She was a virtuous lady
well known as… the best milker the shire has ever seen.’ ”
Charles said, “I don’t believe it!” When shown the line she gave him the victory and set about a careful study of her own sheet.
“I have one,” said Verity. “Look at this. It goes across three
columns. ‘Wentworth the highwayman… having conceived a strong
affection… has increased the population.’”
“More than likely,‘” said Cyn with a grin. “That Wentworth had a procession of weeping women following him to the gallows.”
“I have one,” said Charles.“‘An infant of three years… has
piratically seized a merchant vessel’… If I cheat and go down two lines
I can add… ‘by judicious use of
sal volatile
!’ ”
“The navy should learn that trick,” said Cyn, enjoying her relaxed
amusement. He could make a life’s work out of making his damsel smile…
‘Struth, but a wiser man would leave the coach at the next stop and take to the woods before total insanity overwhelmed him.
Soon they entered Salisbury with its famous tall spire. “We should
stop here if it’s safe,” Cyn said. “I confess, however, that if I were
to make my headquarters in this area, I would choose Salisbury. It’s
admirably central, and anyone traveling from the Shaftesbury area to
London or Maidenhead would be bound to pass through. We had best make
inquiries first.”
Hoskins had pulled into the Black Horse, a busy posting inn, but not
the one where the Malloren horses were waiting. Cyn called up that they
might be stopping, then leaned out to attract the attention of an
ostler. A shilling caught the wiry man’s eye. “Yes, your ladyship?”
“The Black Horse seems very busy today,” Cyn said. “Will we be able to have a private parlor?”
“This ain’t busy for the Horse, milady,” he said boastfully.
“There’ll be private rooms to be had, never fear.” He reached for the
coin, but Cyn withheld it.
“And is this the kind of inn where the best people stay?”
“We have many important regulars, milady,” he said proudly. “The
Duke of Queensbury racks up here, and the Earl of Portsmouth. Why, the
great Earl of Walgrave—him they call the Incorruptible—stayed here only
last night, and left not three hours past.” He fixed a suitably sober
look on his face. “Looking for his poor daughter, he is. The young
lady’s gone mad, and is running around the country stark naked with her
babe dead in her arms.”
“She should surely be easy to find then,” Cyn said dryly, and gave
up the coin. As soon as the man left he looked at his apprehensive
companions.
So their father was the Earl of Walgrave, one of the great lords of
the land, known to all for his wealth, power, and almost Puritan
rectitude. Hardly surprising that he had named a daughter Verity.
Perhaps Charles was not Charlotte but Constance.
So why were the sisters not seeking this paragon’s help?
This new element, however, certainly made their enterprise a great
deal more interesting. The Earl of Walgrave could easily mobilize the
authorities, including the army, to search for his daughter. Cyn
couldn’t help but doubt that Verity marrying her major would put an end
to the problem. An officer could be broken for less. Cyn’s own career
might be in jeopardy if his part came out.
There was something else too—some other detail to do with
Walgrave—but it tickled at the edge of Cyn’s memory and refused to be
pinned down.
He shrugged. The dice were cast, and he had never yet turned from an
enterprise because of danger. He smiled at his companions. “He is, at
least, long gone.
En avant, mes enfants
.”
The ostler had been correct. Though the inn seemed busy, there were
still good private rooms to be had. Cyn took a bedchamber as well as a
parlor.
As soon as they were alone, Verity said, “We should have told you. I’m sorry.”
“It would have made no difference. But you have a formidable opponent, if opponent he is.”
“Yes, and I fear Father is now on his way to Nana’s, and will soon
know some of the truth. I just pray Nana will be able to keep your part
in this secret, my lord. I would not like you to find my father your
enemy.”
Cyn glanced at Charles. She looked pinched and haunted, and he no
longer needed to wonder whom she feared. He wished he understood more.
Certainly the earl would not be pleased with a daughter who chose to
play the man, but was that the sum of her sins?
Cyn put a blunt question to Verity. “The Earl of Walgrave could keep
both you and William safe from Horrible Henry. Why are you fleeing him?”
Verity bit her lip. “It’s true. Perhaps I should go to him… I
can’t
risk William…”
“Nonsense,” said Charles crisply. “Father’s off in the wrong
direction, and when he turns around he still won’t know whom or what
he’s looking for. Henry V… Horrible Henry knows even less. We’ll get
you to Nathaniel before Father can interfere.” She turned to Cyn.
“Father stopped Verity from marrying Nathaniel once, and would do so
again.”
“Ah. And instead he arranged your marriage to whom?” When they
hesitated, he said, “Knowledge is power, and I think we need all the
power we can get.”
“Sir William Vernham,” Verity said. “His brother is Henry Vernham.”
“Never heard of ‘em,” dismissed Cyn with the arrogance of the high
nobility, and considerable surprise. “How was Sir William more eligible
than your major?”
The sisters shared a glance. “We don’t know,” said Verity.
“Rich?” Cyn asked.
“Fairly, but I can’t imagine that weighing with Father. His own
wealth is enormous. It is political influence he craves. He seeks high
power. He believes he alone has the qualities to steer the nation to
glory.”
“And Sir William had this political influence?”
“No.” For once Verity lost patience. “There’s no point in badgering
me, my lord. I’m not being difficult. My marriage had importance for my
father, but it never made any sense to me. No more than…”
Cyn caught the conscious look between the sisters and knew they were
concealing something, something to do with his damsel. He let the
matter drop, though he had more questions about this fascinating
conundrum.
He turned his most reassuring smile on Verity, and said, “Don’t
worry about your father. As Charles says, he’s haring off in the wrong
direction. You’re of age, and entitled to marry whom you will. We
appear safe now, so why don’t you go and tend to young Sir William.”
Verity went into the bedroom, comforted by his brisk confidence. Cyn
removed his bonnet and poured a glass of wine. “For you, sir?” he asked
Charles.
She was standing by the window watching the street, but at his words she turned. “No, thank you.”
He poured a little wine into her glass anyway. When she questioned
it with a look, he said, “I intend to demolish at least half this
bottle, if not all of it. It will have to appear that you have done
your part.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“You find that unadmirable? My dear Charles, in normal times, I’m an
officer in charge of the lives of a great many men. Carelessness is not
a failing I permit myself.”
Her chin rose under this rebuke before she looked away. “You think me a child.”
“No,” he said gently. “I think you very brave, given your
circumstances. I just wish you would trust me and consider me your
friend.”
She met his eyes again, and he saw the faintest hint of softening. “You know nothing of my circumstances.”
He wasn’t sure how to handle this, but it was an important moment. “I gather you and your father are not close.”
She laughed sharply. “No, we are not close.”
Cyn sat and deliberately relaxed. “I wasn’t close to mine either, but I admired him. How do you feel about the earl?”
He saw the tension leap into her. “That’s none of your business!”
It was fear. He could smell it. He was well acquainted with the many flavors of fear. What had Walgrave done to her?
Before he could continue his questioning, servants brought in the
meal and set it on the table. Once they had left, Verity rejoined them.
The time for stripping the layers of his damsel’s soul had passed. They
all ate, though Verity needed some encouragement to consume enough.
“Father only needs one glimpse to know us,” she fretted, pushing bits of steak pie around her plate.
Cyn covered her restless hand with his own. “People generally see
what they think to see. Let your face go slack and stupid, and in your
present outfit you could walk by your father in the street and he’d not
recognize you.”
Verity was only slightly reassured. “Perhaps we should hide here and write a letter to Nathaniel.”
“I don’t think so,” said Cyn. “There will be some kind of regular
check on the inns, and from what Toby said, I suspect your father and
Horrible Henry have spun a pretty tale. Since the earl knows all about
Major Frazer, he’ll doubtless have told him the story too. He might
believe it.”
“He wouldn’t!” Verity exclaimed.
“We can’t take the risk. As soon as your major sees you, he’ll know the truth.”
“But,” said Charles, “Father will have people watching Maidenhead and Nathaniel like a hawk.”
“Yes, but we can deal with that. In that,” said Cyn with a smile,
“I’m your ace of trumps. The earl will be watching for Verity trying to
sneak into the major’s rooms, but Captain Lord Cynric Malloren can
stroll up to Major Nathaniel Frazer on the street and talk to him
without raising any suspicions at all. I will merely transform back
into my real self. I even have my uniform in my baggage to lend an air
of business.”
They both seemed dumbstruck by this obvious solution. He looked at
Verity. “Why don’t you lie down and rest for an hour? It would be
foolish to push on to Basingstoke today, so we have plenty of time.”
With a wan smile, she went off to the other room.
Cyn regarded Charles, aware he’d deliberately arranged matters so
they were alone. Noble intentions warred in him with carnal ones. He
wanted to find out the truth of her so he could help her. He also
wanted to explore her, body and soul, break down her reserves, and make
love to her until there were no barriers left between them. At times
like these he wished she were in skirts, and safe behind a barrier of
propriety.
Faith! It suddenly hit him that the object of his lustful imaginings
was the daughter of one of the highest men in the land. What the deuce
was the Earl of Walgrave’s daughter doing living in a cottage, dressed
in breeches?
He topped up her wineglass, hoping it would loosen her tongue. “And
how shall we pass the time, Charles?” he asked. “Cards? War adventures?
Bordello stories?”
She handled it well. “As you know, I can share none of those with you.”
“Not even the cards?”
“I have never gamed for more than pennies.”
“Then we have something in common. I rarely play for high stakes.”
That caught her attention. “Truly? Everyone does.”
“It doesn’t amuse me. I have no taste for giving other people my
money, and find no pleasure in taking theirs, particularly if they can
ill afford it.”
She relaxed and drank from her glass. It was a gesture of truce, but
before he could press his advantage, she said, “Tell me of your
adventures then. In the army,” she added pointedly. “Where have you
served?”
“Mostly in the Americas. What is generally called the French and Indian War.”
Her eyes brightened. “Did you know General Wolfe?”
“Yes.” He eyed her humorously. “Are you a worshiper? He was a hard man to get along with, but a brilliant soldier.”