Читать книгу Infamous - Laurel Ames - Страница 12

Chapter Four

The next day Rose and Martin had ridden alone again and Rose decided to go with Martin to return the horses to Varner House. They rode around the corner past that larger side portico to the stable block off the alley. Rose was not surprised at the opulence of this part of the house. She was just complimenting Stilton on the facilities when Bennet drove in with a high-stepping team that required all the efforts of his tiger to subdue while Bennet jumped down in order to be the one who lifted Rose from the saddle and set her gently down on the paved brick courtyard. “I’m sorry I missed our ride today. Surely you were not going to walk back to the hotel.”

“I had some thought of getting a hack and going shopping down Oxford Street on the way back,” she replied, stepping out of his embrace.

“Did you enjoy your ride?”

“Immensely, since I did not have to fend off either Axel or you.”

“I must apologize for my behavior last night I was...drunk.”

“I know when a man is drunk and you were no such thing.”

Bennet, looking boyish in his somber attire, blinked at being contradicted. “Excited then. I lost my head.”

“That’s not much of an excuse for your behavior in the library last night,” Rose said, turning her back.

“Stealing a kiss?” Bennet walked around in front of her, blocking her retreat from the stable block. “Is it my fault you are utterly irresistible...friend?”

Rose noticed that both grooms and the tiger were pointedly ignoring them, meaning they could hear every word. “That was not a kiss of friendship,” she whispered urgently. “Martin,” she called. “Please go find us a hack.”

“Don’t bother, Martin,” Bennet countered. “I will take you back to your hotel or shopping if that’s what you wish.” Saying that he lifted Rose into the curricle, which seesawed slightly behind the agitated team. He had swung her about so effortlessly it almost made her giddy. She should resent that, but somehow she found that she liked to be a bit dizzy when in Bennet’s company. It let her say things she would never think to say to another man.

Bennet hopped in, grabbed the reins and spared no more than a backward glance to make sure Martin and the tiger had swung up behind. “Now where were we?” he asked Rose as he feathered the turn into the street.

“In too public a place to discuss anything private,” Rose reminded him.

“I’m sure I can rely on the discretion of my tiger just as you trust Martin.”

Rose stared at him, wondering how much of her connection with Martin he divined. “It was not your loss of control that worried me the most.”

“What then?” Bennet glanced at her in such apparent innocent good humor she felt unable to upbraid him about the presence of the Frenchman in his library. If he were guilty of clandestine activity against the government would he be likely to have the effrontery to invite her condemnation? The answer was yes. From her brief experience of Bennet Varner, there was little he would not dare and nothing he could not carry off. She must not let herself be as swayed by his charm as everyone else was. Beginning to feel her long silence had grown awkward, Rose scrambled in her mind to find some other flaw with which to upbraid him, but she could not.

Bennet grinned at her speechlessness. “Do you go to the party at Lady Catherine’s house tonight?” he asked absently.

“No, why should they invite us?”

“Because it would be the gracious thing to do for the relatives of a close friend, which is precisely why they have not.”

“You sound as though you resent them as much as...”

“As much as I dislike my own mother and sister? That was what you were about to say, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but then I remembered my manners.”

“You won’t have much use for them in London,” Bennet said, passing a string of carts and running the danger of locking wheels with a mail coach before he nipped back to his side of the street. “You will meet a great many people here who will be gracious to your face, but who will talk about you unmercifully behind your back.”

“And how are they different from people anywhere else?” she asked, clutching the side of the curricle as he feathered another corner. It suddenly occurred to her that they were not going to Greeves Hotel, that they were not, in fact, even going in the right direction.

She was about to point this out to Bennet when he turned a look of genuine surprise upon her. “You have been the subject of gossip before?”

“Yes,” she said guardedly. “The breaking of an engagement, even when done by mutual agreement, is bound to be a cause for gossip.”

“Was that the only reason for the gossip?” He asked it casually, as though it were a matter of little interest to him. But Rose read it as an invitation to confide in him. Had there not been the tiger pointedly ignoring them, she might have been tempted, but there were Martin’s feelings to consider as well.

“You know what Axel is. I offended his pride by crying off. Even though he took the ring back with relief, he gave it about that he was the one who jilted me and hinted at some dark reason for his decision.”

“Yes, putting all the blame on you without saying anything actionable.”

“As though I would take him to court when all I wanted to do was forget...” Rose ran out of breath, and Bennet looked at her with concern.

“Forget Axel? Impossible. He is like a boil on one’s neck. It is impossible to forget him even when he is a thousand miles away.”

Rose laughed nervously. “Does Lady Catherine entertain often?”

“Nearly every week. She needs material and that is the easiest way to get it.”

“Material? Whatever do you mean?” Rose stared about at the shops they were now passing, mapmakers, chandlers and an excise office.

“For her rumor mill. When I said Harriet had fallen under some bad influence it was the Gravelys I was referring to. They have taught her to be spiteful with a smile, playing people against each other for amusement—the sort of social torture I would like to warn you of.”

“In order to be hurt by them I should have to care what they thought, what anyone thought of me, and I do not.”

“Does Alice?” Bennet asked, drawing a conscience-stricken look from Rose.

“Yes, but she is an innocent. What has she to worry about?”

“Last season they took Miss Robin Coates on as their protégée, led her into excesses that became too dangerous. Now they have dropped her. She will never receive another invitation from either family, and no word of explanation.”

“But what has that to do with—”

“Ah, here we are,” Bennet said with satisfaction, and he pulled the team to a halt on the dock.

“But where are we?” Rose demanded, letting him swing her down from the curricle all the same.

“The Celestine. I was sure you would want to inspect her.”

“And if I feel that the staterooms are too small?” Rose looked critically at the three-masted schooner with its green and gilt trim.

“Why, we can have them enlarged. Of course, we shall have to throw part of the cargo overboard, but it’s only money. Actually I knew they were to remove the old mast today, so I thought you might like to watch.” Bennet looked up at the intricate block and tackle arrangements and nodded.

“You are impossible!” Rose said as she let him take her arm to help her along the crowded quay.

“Just when I was congratulating myself on how agreeable I was being.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Shall I carry you? I would not want you to trip on your riding habit and fall into the Thames.”

“I can manage,” Rose said as she threw the tail of her long skirt over one wrist and skipped up the planked gangway.

“This is Captain Cooley,” Bennet said. “Miss Gwen Rose Wall will be sailing with you to Europe.”

“Aye, if we ever get out of port. It’s yer own ship and all, but to be replacin’ a perfectly fine mainmast...” Cooley shook his head grimly as the chocks squeaked and the men heaved. The mast was belayed with stout ropes until the pulleys could be repositioned, run out and fastened to the mast again as the huge billet of wood swayed ponderously over the deck. A man in a carpenter’s apron was excitedly crawling about underneath the many tons of wood, making Rose’s flesh creep. Cooley went over at the seaman’s excited exclamation and lay down on the deck himself to examine the butt of the mast. He rose again and waved his hand, shouting some order that started the pulleys to squeaking again.

“Well, I’ll be blasted! Beggin’ yer pardon, miss. It beats me how you knew that mast was cracked afore I did, Mr. Varner. You can see the interior crack from the base. It would probably have riven into splinters in the next storm. You are a wonder, sir. Yer father would’ve been proud of ye.”

Rose thought she had caught a look of surprise flit across Bennet’s face before his usual aspect of cheerful confidence reasserted itself. If Bennet had known the mast was cracked then this had not been a deliberate ruse to keep her in London a few more days. But if, as she surmised, it had been a lucky guess, it meant Bennet was still suspect. What could he hope to accomplish in a few days or a week—the liberation of Napoleon? The realization hit her in a warm rush. If Bennet were trying to contrive that, then he must know Europe would soon be a very dangerous place for the English, or was it just that he could not afford to let her and her knowledge loose on the Continent?

Absurd! She was much more of a danger to Bennet here in London than in Paris. She could and probably should march right into the Foreign Office and tell them what she had overheard. She went over in her mind how she would tell it, how she would probably be unsuccessful in gaining an audience with anyone of importance, how they would disbelieve her even if she got someone’s ear. She would appear a fool, but what did that matter where the safety of the country was at stake? She considered for no more than a moment confiding in Stanley. He was so unused to trusting her judgment in any matter of importance that she knew he would only say she must have misheard and dismiss her concern.

“Seen enough?” Bennet’s abrupt question caused Rose to jump.

She cleared her throat. “We have not seen the cabins yet.”

“I think you will be quite pleased on that account. Let me go down the companionway first so that I may assist you.”

“I do not need any help,” Rose insisted. But the effort of bunching up her riding skirt and trying to keep it tucked about her so as not to expose her ankles left her with only one hand to hang on to the ladder. She could not see her feet, and one misstep caught her off balance. She let go of her skirts but too late to avoid a tumble backward into Bennet Varner’s arms. After her initial gasp she clutched him around the neck and looked accusingly into his eyes. “Knowing you as I do I might almost think that was no accident.”

“Of course not. I bring all my chères amies here, hoping they will fall down that ladder into my arms ”

“You can put me down now.”

“What?”

“Miss, are you all right?” Captain Cooley called from the deck.

“We’re fine,” Bennet shouted back.

“Harrumph. I was askin’ Miss Wall.”

“I’m all right, Captain Cooley. Thank you,” Rose called. “He seems to have your measure,” she said quietly to Bennet.

“He’s like a father to me.”

“Exactly.”

When Bennet finally did set her on her feet again, it was some minutes before the warmth of his touch could be driven from her mind. He hefted her as though she weighed nothing. Bennet Varner was neither an office recluse nor a society lapdog, but a man capable of physical prowess, and Rose did not believe he had got that way just training horses.

“Do the cabins meet with your approval?” he asked after she had meticulously looked through all of them. They did have small windows but she was agreeably surprised by their scrubbed and polished look.

“They are much more spacious than I ever dreamed. Shall I have our trunks sent down?”

“Not quite yet. They would only be in the way for the moment,” Bennet said as he conducted her to the ladder. Rose made him go first for she was quite sure ascending was much easier than going down, especially if there was no one staring up your dress. And she must get the hang of it, for Bennet would not always be there to catch her.

Rose turned her face into the breeze and inhaled deeply. She could imagine clinging to the rail as the ship plunged between waves like a frisky horse, tossing its head and glorying in what it did best. Bennet came to stand behind her. She could almost feel the heat of his body vibrating through the slight space of air that must remain between them.

“Do you not fear seasickness?” he asked, quite out of tune with her romantic thoughts.

“Not in the least,” she said with a smile.

“I did not mean you, of course, but your sister-in-law seems of a delicate constitution.”

“Oh, I am sure Alice will be sick, but it will not be as bad as being shut up in a carriage with her the whole way from Wall. On the ship she can have her maid to mop her brow with lavender water.”

Captain Cooley strolled over to see them off the ship. “Seasickness? Not unless it be a rough crossing. If you are used to a horse galloping under you, the Celestine will seem like a cradle.”

Rose almost laughed out loud at the look of woe this caused on Bennet’s face. “But I suppose we will be delayed weeks over this mast, sir,” Rose said ingenuously.

“Weeks? Bless you, miss. No. This is but a trifle. We could sail day after tomorrow if we was not waitin’ fer a cargo.” As this last was said with a somewhat accusing glance toward Bennet, Rose surmised that the delay was deliberate.

“Thank you, Captain Cooley, for letting me see the Celestine. I can look forward to the voyage with a quiet mind now.”

Cooley clicked his heels together, bowed and kissed her hand for good measure.

“What a gentlemen,” Rose said as she negotiated the narrow gangway. She did not refuse the hand Bennet stretched to her as she made her way down the ramp to the quay nor the strong arms that lifted her into the carriage.

“I suppose you think it rather archaic for a bride to need the comfort of a sister along on her wedding trip, and not even her own sister at that.”

“It’s as good a way to escape home as any,” Bennet replied, getting in beside her and taking the reins from his tiger.

“Disabuse yourself of the notion I came willingly. My mother insisted upon it.”

“Your mother?” Bennet queried as he skillfully turned the curricle in the tight area of the wharf and set off.

“Yes, I think she wanted to dislodge me from Wall, make me give up the management of it. Perhaps she and Stanley even conspired to rip me from my moorings in this fashion.”

“Then you do not really want to go to Europe?” Bennet asked hopefully.

“Oh, for lack of anything better to do, but no, it was not my idea.”

Rose glanced at Bennet’s profile, watching the wheels grind behind his so innocuous eyes. She wondered if he would now try to give Stanley and Alice a disgust of the voyage, or failing that, the Continent itself.

“I was thinking,” Bennet said, “since you have no engagement for tonight you might like to use my box at the theater. It’s a new play and I think you might like it. You can at least be sure your pleasure will not be interrupted by the appearance of Mother and Harriet, since they will be at Lady Catherine’s rout.”