The Cracksman's Kiss (14 page)

Chapter
Seventeen

Kassie stared at the pale green canvas stretched above her head. She
shivered, wrapping Auggie’s tartan cloak tighter around herself.
Cohen and Lucca are gone, killed by my husband’s
men, down into the depths of the unforgiving sea with the ship.
Her heart and mind, dull with grief, spoke the words, but her tears were spent.
What do I do now? Where will I go? Will the earl think I, too, am dead? If he finds out I am alive, will he seek to have me returned to him?

“Kassie, lass.”

She turned her head as Auggie pulled back the flap on the makeshift tent.

He looked past her, not meeting her eye. “I brought back a coach and something to eat.”

Kassie turned her face away and returned the focus of her stare to the tent roof. He continued in the same odd flat tone he used to tell her of their deaths. “I commissioned a ship. I thought maybe ye could come back with me to Marseilles. I need to tell Ashton’s family of…” His voice caught with sorrow. “I need to tell them he is…dead.”

Kassie stared at a bead
of condensation trickling in a jagged path down the underside of the canvas.
Go to France, where Cohen’s brother and sisters live, with all their children.

“Kassie?”

She nodded, unable to force the words past her swollen, salt cracked lips.

It was silent for a moment. She ignored him, continuing to
watch the bead of water sliding until it crossed the seam. It trickled down the wall, fading from her line of vision.

“I brought ye some clothes. I thought yers might be crusty wi
th salt and as uncomfortable as mine.”

She caught the flash of his coat out of the corner of her eye
. The paper package crinkled as he placed it by her head. The tent flap lifted, brightening the interior for a moment before rustling back into place.
I am alone.
She let her breath escape in a crisp whoosh of cool white air, and then rolled onto her side and sat up. Her head swam, her vision blurring at the sudden movement.Once she became accustomed to being upright she reached for the package. Slipping off the string holding the paper she unrolled it. Nestled inside was a chemise, a soft blue wool skirt, a simple white blouse and a darker blue cloak. It was nice of Auggie to think of her comfort and purchase the garments. She must remember to thank him for his care these last two days.

She got dressed
, shivering in the frigid spring air. It did not matter if she froze to death.
Nothing really matters anymore.
She stood up taking care not to jar her still tender head and wandered from the tent. A coach sat opposite the fire. Two brown horses, each standing with a hind foot cocked in rest, dozed in their harness while the coachman waited.

Auggie looked up from his seat on a stump. He gave her a weak smile which she did not
bother to return and held her hands out to the fire, staring into the dying flames.
Soon the flames
will disappear completely and leave me to face the cold world alone … again.

“Kassie?”

She did not look up. A tin trencher of food entered her line of vision.

“Ye must eat something, lass.”

She reached out a shaky hand and took the crude trencher even though she did not want to. It was easier to humor Auggie than listen to him nag. She glanced at the contents. The thick slice of bread, roasted chicken breast, and still steaming potato did nothing to tempt her appetite. Heaving a dejected groan, she lowered herself to the damp grass and picked at the meal. Once she picked apart the food and pushed it around for a sufficient amount of time she set the trencher beside her. She watched as Auggie kicked dirt on the remains of the campfire.
Gone,
like Cohen and Lucca. Gone, like my will to go on by myself.

Auggie crossed to where she sat and held out his hand. Kassie
was aware of the heat as he sealed her cold fingers in his and helped her up. She allowed him to lead her to the coach and lift her in. Once he was seated, he tapped on the roof, and they headed for the docks of the tiny town of Penzance.
We were lucky, he told me… Was that yesterday, perhaps?
The days and nights ran into themselves in an indistinguishable blur of heartache.
Yes, perhaps yesterday he told me the
storm and the sea current washed us ashore only a few short miles from the seaside town. Lucky,
why do I not feel so lucky? I do not feel anything.

She turned and
stared out the window as the tears she thought were dried and gone wet her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks.
Why did I not die?
Anger pricked her chest, the first vibrant emotion she acknowledged since her near drowning.
Auggie is why I did not die.
Damn him! It is his fault I am trapped in this cocoon of pain. Damn him.
She bit her lip.
No, that
is not fair. It is not his fault. There is only one man I should hate. Lord Everton.

The damp forest gave way to the cobbled streets of the town
. Cheery looking people bustled here and there, on their way to something or someone important. She swiped the tears from her face, angry to have let her emotions loose and crossed her arms. Crying would not bring Lucca back. It was a sign of weakness, something only pathetic women did according to the earl.

The coach pulled up in front of the little dock where two s
mall merchant ships and a large schooner were moored. Auggie hoped out and turned to help her. She climbed down and shuffled across the dock with him, oblivious to where they were going. Her gave focused down at her feet as they made their way up the gangplank and she didn’t bothering lifting it when the captain of the ship greeted them.

“Welcome, Mister Forton, Comtésse Ashton.”

Kassie blinked.
Comtésse Ashton?

Auggie squeezed her hand. “Thank ye, Captain Smith. I appr
eciate ye taking us on board at such short notice.”

“It was the least I could do for you and Ashton’s widow.”

This time Kassie’s head snapped up of its own accord. She stared at the captain and then Auggie. Before she could question either man, Auggie tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and towed her forward down the deck. “I will see Comtésse Ashton is settled in her cabin and be back to discuss payment.”

The captain nodded.

Kassie followed Auggie down the corridor to a set of doors. “Why did you call me Comtésse Ashton?”

He glanced down at her as he opened the door. “Under the cir
cumstances I thought it best to let everyone think ye are Cohen’s widow going home to see his family. Everton will be looking for ye, and it is more acceptable to travel unchaperoned in the guise of a widow.”

Kassie entered the room. It was sparsely furnished but
comfortable looking. Two chairs flanked the modest brazier; a small bed took up one corner with a large sea trunk placed at the foot of it. A square table with four chairs took up the other corner.

Auggie released her hand. “I’ve t
aken the liberty of arranging for a local lass to act as yer maid and to accompany ye to the shops before we leave. Purchase anything ye might need on Cohen’s account.”

Kassie nodded, her heart pinching with sorrow at the ment
ion of Cohen’s name. She sat in one of the chairs and stared into the fire. A moment later the door closed behind Auggie. She didn’t feel like shopping. She was so tired. If only she could fall asleep and wake up to find all that happened to her was just a bad dream. To wake up in the old bed she shared with her sister, Beth.

A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts.
She looked to the door without enthusiasm. “Come in.”

It swung open and Alex stood on the threshold with his ha
t in his hands. “Bonjour, Lady … Everton.”

Kassie rose from her chai
r and crossed the room, coming to a halt in front of the sailor. “Alex. Is it truly you?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle. I ‘ave a…
” He paused for a moment, floundering for the words in English. “I ‘ave taken position on ze ship—I sail home.”

Kassie reached out and clutched his hand, turning her eyes to his in a pleading gesture.

“Please, Alex, tell me Cohen and Lucca are alive. Tell me you saw them after the blast.”

The young sailor dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I am sorry. Comté Ashton … gone, Mademoiselle.” He pried her fingers from his, and then reached into the satchel at his feet. He pulled out the oriental box Cohen gave Kassie on the trip to Bath and held it out to her. “I found ‘zis. I thought you would … want, oui?”

Kassie nodded
and took the box from his hand. The cool wooden surface was warped but still glossy. Without thinking, she opened the lid. The hinges creaked, stiff from the salt water. Inside, nestled in the faded, crusty velvet interior was the little jade elephant. “Thank you,” she whispered, struggling to keep the tears that welled up in her eyes in check.

He nodded and turned to leave,
then paused, looking back at her. “You need any zing—you come to me, oui?”

Kassie nodded, and then he was gone.

A young girl peered into the room. “My lady? Mister Forton, sent for me.”

She placed the box on the table.

The young girl gave her braid a tug and worried her bottom lip for a moment before she spoke again. “Mister Forton said to take you shopping.”

Kassie nodded again and headed out the door. Men scurr
ied back and forth on the deck, loading supplies. She looked around but did not see Auggie anywhere. Lifting her skirts clear of the disarray of cargo, she made her way down the gangplank, the new maid trailing in her wake.

A sign on the second
shop caught her eye. She paused, and then opened the door. A young clerk looked up from his paper cluttered desk. “May I help you?”

“Is this Mr. Penning’s office?”

The clerk smiled. “Yes, it is. Do you have an appointment with him, Miss…?”

“Lady Everton,” Kassie supplied. “No, but I would like to speak with him a
bout a most pressing matter if he is in.”

The clerk nodded and stood. He gestured to a chair agains
t the wall. “If you would be so kind as to wait a moment, I will inform him you are here.” When she nodded he hurried through a door in the far wall. After a moment an older man followed him into the room. His grey mustache twitched as he smiled at her and pushed his spectacles further up his nose. “What can I do for you, Lady Everton?”

Taking a deep breath she looked him straight in the eye. “I would like to
petition for a divorce.”

The man did not even blink. “All right, if you will kind
ly follow me to my office, Lady Everton.” He swept his hand to the side to indicate she should precede him.

Sh
e motioned for the maid to wait, and then walked ahead of the man into his office. He waited until she was settled in a straight-backed chair in front of his desk and closed the door.

After he
had taken his seat opposite her he leaned his elbows on the desk top and smiled.

“Now, Lady Everton, why not start at the beginning an
d explain to me why you want to legally vacate your husband’s control.”

Kassie explained the situation, her face flushing whe
n she mentioned Cohen’s midnight visit.

Mr. Penning listened with rapt attention
, showing no sign of judgment at her tale. When she was done he leaned back in his chair and contemplated her for a moment before he spoke. “As I am sure you are aware, Lady Everton, a divorce is both a costly procedure and a social stigma.” When Kassie nodded he continued. “I believe you might have a case for an annulment of your marriage, however. The fact you have not been married the full three years required by parliament might be your only problem. You say, Lord Everton, had already commissioned a place for you at St. Catherine’s Convent?”

“Yes, the night I ran away.”

“If Lord Everton did, in fact, make this arrangement, then is it not also likely he is willing to arrange for an annulment?”

She lowered her gaze to her hands clutched in her lap. “T
he fact that my son is now dead might change his mind. He wants an heir desperately before he dies, you see, and I am the means to that end, or so he thinks. It is obvious to all he is incapable of fathering a child.” She stopped, her face burning with embarrassment.

“I see.” The room was silent. Finally when she was ab
out to get up and apologize for wasting his time, his chair creaked. He cleared his throat. “My advice to you, Lady Everton, is to sail to France and never come back.”

Shocked Kassie swung her gaze to his
.

The older man gave her a kind smile
. “After seven years your husband will declare you dead, and you will be free to remarry if you wish.”