Читать книгу Those Scandalous Ravenhursts: The Dangerous Mr Ryder - Louise Allen - Страница 13

The sound of booted feet on the floorboards brought Eva awake with a start of alarm. Sunlight was flooding through the window, morning had broken and she was still abed while pursuit could be at the door. She sat bolt upright. ‘What time is it?’ How could she have slept so soundly? ‘How are your bruises?’

‘Six, that is all. But time you got up, all the same. And my bruises are much better, thank you.’ Jack straightened from fastening a valise and smiled at her, a casual smile that held none of last night’s unspoken complications. He was fully dressed, clean shaven and alert. It felt very odd to have a man in her bedchamber while she was still in bed. ‘There is warm water on the washstand. I’ll wait downstairs unless you need any help with…er…’ he waved one hand in an effort to find an acceptable word ‘…buttons or anything.’

‘Thank you, no,’ Eva replied, suppressing the information that she had carefully selected garments that did not require assistance with laces, buttons or any other fastening. Yesterday she would have probably blurted that out; today she was resolved to retain the utmost dignity compatible with sharing a room with a man to whom she was not married.

‘Very well, I will order breakfast for twenty minutes’ time.’ He paused, one hand on the key. ‘Lock the door behind me.’

She made it downstairs with five minutes to spare and was rewarded by a raised eyebrow as Jack stood and held a chair for her in the deserted parlour. ‘I have a busy schedule that requires frequent changes of clothing,’ she explained, answering the unspoken comment on her punctuality and accepting a proffered napkin with a nod of thanks. ‘Where is Henry eating?’

‘In the kitchen, I imagine.’ Jack helped himself to a hearty slice of ham, two eggs and a length of sausage.

‘I would prefer that he join us.’ She poured coffee into the large cups and added a generous amount of milk, still frothy from the milking pail.

Jack accepted a cup, frowning. ‘Why? He can hardly chaperon us in the bedchamber, so his presence at breakfast seems a touch superfluous.’

‘Even so. I wish to retain the appearance of respectability so far as I am able.’ How direct he was! She had hoped to raise the matter without mentioning chaperons or bedchambers, but, no, Jack made no concession to conventions, or to the mild hypocrisies that oiled the wheels of real life. Eva tried not to either blush, or look like a prude, and suspected she had ended up merely looking starched-up. Not such a bad thing.

‘As you wish.’ Jack got up, put his head round the door to catch a passing potboy with the message and resumed his seat. ‘I am not sure Henry would add to any lady’s credit, but I cannot provide you with a lady’s maid.’

‘No, I agree. It would not be fair to her, and she could slow us down in an emergency.’ Eva buttered bread sedately, resisting the fragrant dish of ham and eggs until she had taken the sharpest edge off her appetite. Dinner last night had been unusually early and she had had nothing since, but she was not going to bolt her food. Years of eating in her room so she could be seen dining in public with the appetite of an elegant bird had left her awkward about tucking into a meal in company.

‘Quite. A very practical assessment.’ Jack was regarding her with a quizzical air. Eva stared haughtily back and carried on nibbling her bread and butter. ‘Is anything wrong?’

He was always catching her off-balance, she thought resentfully. Half the time he was coolly expressionless, practical and seemed to expect her to just get on with things as he did himself. Then there would be a flash of sympathy, of understanding or concern, and his grey eyes came alive with a warmth that made her want to reach out and take his hand again.

‘Whatever could there be wrong?’ she said lightly, feeling her smile tighten. She added, with an edge of sarcasm, ‘This is all quite in the normal run of my experience, after all.’

‘Treating me like a awkward ambassador is not going to—Henry, good morning. Madame would like you to join us.’

‘Strewth.’ The groom stood turning his hat round in his hands. ‘You sure about that, ma’am? I mean, I’ve been seeing to the horses this morning and all.’

‘Entirely sure. Please sit in that chair there, Henry. Now, would you care for some coffee?’

Eva poured, served herself ham and eggs, made careful conversation with both men in a manner that effectively forbade the introduction of any personal matter whatsoever and finally rose from the table, satisfied that she had set the tone for the rest of the journey. ‘Where are we travelling to today?’ she asked over her shoulder as Jack pulled out her chair for her at the end of the meal.

He shook his head slightly and she caught her breath. She had been beginning to feel safe, lulled by the routine domesticity of breakfast. Of course, walls had ears, people could be bribed to pass on tittle-tattle about earlier guests. The cold knot in her stomach twisted itself together again, not helped by the squeeze he gave her elbow as she preceded him out of the room. She was not used to being touched. It was meant to be reassuring, she was sure, but it succeeded all too well in reminding her just how much she needed him.

Jack waited until the carriage had rattled out of the inn yard and Henry had turned west before speaking. ‘Grenoble, Lyon, Dijon, then north to the border with the Kingdom of the Netherlands by whatever seems the safest route at the time,’ he said without preamble as she folded her cloak on the seat.

‘Through so many big towns? Is that wise?’ The watchful grey eyes opposite narrowed and Eva caught a glimpse of displeasure. He does not like my questioning his judgement, she thought. Too bad, I want to understand. I need to.

‘In my judgement it is,’ Jack responded evenly. ‘We need the speed of the good roads and travellers are less obvious in cities. However, if we run into trouble, then I have an alternative plan.’ She nodded, both in comprehension and agreement. ‘I am glad you approve.’

‘It is not a question of approval,’ Eva snapped, then caught at the fraying edge of her temper. Grace under pressure, that was what Louis had always insisted was the mark of rulers. Grace under pressure at all times. ‘I wish to understand,’ she added more temperately. ‘I am not a parcel you have been charged with delivering to the post office. Nor does my position make me some sort of mindless figurehead as you seem to think. If I understand what we are doing, why we are going where we do, then I am less likely to make any mistakes to earn your further displeasure.’

‘It is not my place to express displeasure at any action of yours.’ Jack’s retort was even enough to tip her emotions over into anger again. He was humouring her, that was what he was doing. He wanted it both ways—he wanted to call her by her first name, carry on this pretence of marriage and sharing a room, yet the moment she tried to take an active part in their flight he fell back on becoming the respectful courtier.

‘No, it is not your place, Mr Ryder, but I thought we had agreed that for the duration of this adventure I was not a grand duchess, that you would call me by my given name. I had assumed that meant you would also stop treating me as if I was not a real person. I hate it when I visit a village and they have painted the shutters especially. How do I know what lies behind them? Are they prosperous or are they poor? How much money was wasted on that paint? I want the truth, Mr Ryder, not platitudes, not your equivalent of painted shutters.’

Her angry words hung in the air between them. She saw the bunching of the muscles under the tight cloth of his breeches and wondered if he was about to jump up, pull the check cord and transfer to the box, leaving her in solitude to fume.

Then Jack leaned back into the corner of the seat and smiled. It was not a sign of humour, it was the kind of smile she produced when she was deeply displeased, but it would not be politic to say so, a curving of thinned lips. Had that hard mouth really been the one that had slid over her warm lips with such sensual expertise?

‘Very well.’ Eva jumped, dragging her eyes away from his lips. ‘If you must have it without the bark on it. The amount of danger we are in all depends on whether Antoine wants you back, and, if he does, whether he has a preference for alive or dead.’ Eva tried not to flinch at the brutal analysis. ‘He might simply be satisfied with you disgraced, in which case we are doing his work for him—last night was enough to ruin you. Or, of course, an accident on the road has the advantage of simplicity.

‘If he wants you ruined, he just has to leave us alone, spread the rumour that you have fled with your lover and make sure every newspaper in Europe picks up the tittle-tattle.’

‘When I get back to England and I am seen to be received by the Prince Regent and the Queen—’

‘The damage will be done by then, the dirt will be on your name. No smoke without fire, they will say.’

‘I wonder, then, that you chose to share my room last night.’ Cold shame was washing over her body—what would Freddie think? Small boys were cruel; someone would make certain he heard of his mother and the smutty tales about her. ‘It was poor judgement on your part.’ All this time worrying about her reputation and knowing that taking a lover was out of the question, and now this.

‘I put safety above respectability. Better slandered than dead.’ There was a flash of white teeth in a sudden grin, then the grim humour was gone. ‘And besides, Prince Antoine has all the ammunition he needs without confirmation from an innkeeper about which beds were slept in. You were seen leaving with a man and some baggage.’ He paused, watching her face. ‘If I had pointed this out, back in the castle, would you still have come?’

‘Yes, of course I would have come!’ Of course she would have. ‘What does my reputation matter against Freddie’s safety or my duty? And what difference does it make to our choices whether Antoine wants me alive or dead?’

‘If he wants you back in Maubourg so that people can see you, while he controls you as a puppet by threats to your son, then he will have to capture you and transport you home. That requires some logistical planning, more people. It may be easier to spot. If he wants an accident…well, then that is harder to see coming.’

‘Yes, that is putting it without the bark on,’ she agreed, trying not to let her voice shake. This was the man she had begun to think she understood and now realised she had been underestimating. Jack seemed so cold, so unmoved by the fear and danger behind his analysis. ‘Are you ever afraid?’ she demanded, the words leaving her lips as she thought them.

‘Of many things,’ he said evenly, surprising her. ‘The knack is not to admit to it, not even to yourself.’

‘I am scared of spiders,’ she confessed. ‘But I am not prepared to say what else.’ Even referring to her recurring nightmare obliquely made it hideously real. Those dark passageways under the castle, the shifting lift of the torches making half-seen shapes move in corners. The rectangular shapes and the knowledge of what was in them…She pushed it away with an inner shudder. ‘I understand what you mean; it does not do to conjure such things up. Instead, tell me what I should to do to help protect us all.’

‘Do what I tell you, always, at once and without question.’

Eva blinked. She had been hoping he would give her a pistol, and show her how to use it, or demonstrate how to hit an assailant over the head, or some other active form of defence. ‘That was very peremptory, Mr Ryder.’

‘Are you going to argue about it? And call me Jack.’

‘Yes, I am going to argue, Jack,’ she said. ‘What if I do not agree with what you are telling me to do?’

‘We stand there and debate it while the opposition takes the advantage, or I hit you on the point of your very pretty chin and do whatever it is anyway.’

‘My…What has my chin got to do with it?’

‘It is the easiest part of your anatomy to hit in a crisis.’ He appeared to have regained his good humour. ‘Then Henry and I bundle up your unconscious body and make our escape with you slung unflatteringly over Henry’s shoulder.’ The smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners in a way that was infuriatingly attractive.

‘There is the death penalty in Maubourg for striking a member of the Grand Ducal family,’ Eva stated. And see how you like the thought of a coarse hemp noose around your neck, Mr Ryder!

‘What a good thing we will not be in Maubourg if such an eventuality transpires.’ They sat in silence. Eva glared out of one window, Jack looked out of the other, his lips pursed in a soundless whistle.

Eventually the coach turned, lurched and began to ride more smoothly. Eva dragged her attention back to the landscape and away from a satisfying daydream of seeing Mr Ryder dragged off in chains to the scaffold. They had reached the post road to Grenoble.

‘Are you going to sulk all the way to Brussels?’ Jack enquired.

‘I am not sulking. I have simply not got anything to say to you, you insolent man.’

‘I see. I apologise for the remark about your chin.’

‘What part of that remark, exactly? Threatening to hit it?’

‘No, making an uncalled-for personal remark.’

‘Has anyone told you how inf—’ She broke off at the sound of a fist being banged on the carriage roof.

‘Hell.’ Jack sat upright. ‘That means trouble. We are almost at the border—do you normally have it guarded? There was no check when we entered the Duchy.’

‘No, never. Our army is minute and there are far too many passes and back roads to make it worthwhile putting on border guards. What do we do?’ Jack would have a plan for this, he couldn’t intend that they stop, surely? Eva braced herself, expecting the horses to be whipped up to ride through whatever obstruction lay in their path.

But Jack was on his feet, balancing against the swaying of the coach as Henry began to rein in. Eva stared as he groped under the edge of the seat he had been sitting on. There was a click and the whole top folded up leaving a rectangular space. Jack threw her valise into one end and gestured. ‘In you get. There are air holes.’

‘No!’ It gaped, dark and stark as a sepulchre. Eva could feel the panic constricting her throat. Don’t talk about nightmares…it makes them come real… The edges of her vision clouded as though grey cobwebs were growing there. The shadows in the corners shifted…the sound of stone grinding on stone…the scratch of bone…

‘In!’ Jack gestured impatiently, his attention on the scene outside as the carriage came to a halt. There were voices raised to give curt orders. ‘Now!’

Duty. It is my duty to survive. It is my duty to be strong. Eva scrambled in, and sat down. The air seemed to have darkened, she was light-headed. Don’t shut it, no! Don’t! The scream was soundless as Jack pushed her down until she was lying prone. He said something, but the roaring in her ears made it hard to hear. Then the lid closed on to darkness. Forcing herself to breathe, she raised both hands until the palms pressed against the wooden underside and pushed up. It was locked tight. Trust him, he will let you out. Trust him. Trust…he will come.

Jack sat down in the corner of the carriage, ran his hands through his hair, crossed one leg negligently over the other and drew a book out of his pocket. He raised his eyes to look over the top of it as the door was flung open. ‘Yes?’ It was a soldier in the silver-and-blue Maubourg uniform. Sent by Prince Antoine, no doubt.

‘Your papers, monsieur.’

‘But of course.’ Jack put down the book, taking his time, and removed the documents from his breast pocket. His false identity as a Paris lawyer was substantiated by paperwork from a ‘client’ near Toulon who wished for advice on a family trust. He fanned out the documents without concealment, extracted the passport and handed it across.

The man took it and marched away towards the front of the vehicle without even glancing at it. Damnation. That probably meant an officer. Jack climbed down and walked forward to where a young lieutenant was scanning the papers, three soldiers at his back.

‘You are on your way back to Paris, monsieur?’

‘Yes. I have been on business near Toulon.’ The young man’s thumb was rubbing nervously over the wax seal. The lieutenant was inexperienced, unsure of himself and probably wondering what on earth he’d been sent out here to deal with.

‘What other vehicles have you passed since yesterday?’

‘I have no idea.’ Jack stared at him blankly. It was a useful trick. People questioning you expected you to lie, to make up an answer, to be able to catch you out. An honest admission of ignorance took the wind out of their sails and made you seem more credible. ‘I have been reading, sleeping. I take no notice of such things. Henri, what have you seen?’

Henry shrugged. ‘All sorts, monsieur, all sorts. What is the lieutenant looking for?’

‘A woman,’ the young man began, then reddened at the grin on Henry’s face and the sound of his own men choking back their laughter. He glared at his men. ‘A fugitive. A woman in her mid-twenties, brown hair, tall. With a man. Probably in a travelling carriage.’

‘No idea.’ The groom was dismissive. ‘Can’t see inside anything closed from up here. Could have passed the Emperor himself and a carriage full of Eagles for all I know.’

‘Very well. You may proceed.’ The officer handed Jack the passport and stepped back.

Jack climbed into the carriage and sat down without a glance up at Henry. Inept and badly organised was the only way to describe that road block. It must have been the first response last night, to send troops out on the main roads. He did not fool himself that this would be the extent of Antoine’s reaction to the disappearance of his sister-in-law.

The rapid tattoo on the roof told him that no one was following them. All clear, he could let Eva out. What a fuss she had made about getting in—no doubt she thought the box contained the dreaded spiders she had confessed to fearing.

Jack unlatched the seat, lifted the lid and caught his breath. For one appalled moment he thought she was dead. Her face was grey, her eyes closed, her hands, clasped at her breast, had blood on them. Then her eyes opened, unfocused on some unseen terror. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No! Louis—don’t let them in!’