A Lady by Chance (Historical Regency Romance) (25 page)

"But since your affections are engaged elsewhere, I simply don't count."

She gave him a puzzled look, then fingered her gloves, her eyes downcast. "I need your help, Morgie. We must find Anna. I just know something is dreadfully wrong."

"What does Haverstock say?"

"He won't discuss it. I've never seen him so distraught. He seems to believe Anna has run off with another man – which is preposterous."

"I should say so! And who is the
other
man supposed to be?"

"The odious Sir Henry Vinson."

"The hell you say!" Morgie's hand flew to his mouth. "Beg your pardon."

She turned large brown eyes on him and nodded sadly. "Anna would never willingly leave Charles. She positively adores him. And I don't believe she cares for Sir Henry."

"I know for a fact she detests the man," Morgie grumbled.

"She's confided in you?"

"Yes, she confided in me. I should have told Haverstock straight away."

"Told him what, Morgie?"

He refused to meet her gaze. "Cannot tell you, Lyddie."

"You offend me greatly."

"I would if I could, really, but it's a matter of national secrecy and all that, you know."

A sparkle leaped to her eyes. "You mean you are contributing to the war effort in a clandestine nature, Morgie?"

"Wouldn't exactly put it that way."

"Then how would you put it? Pray, tell me what you know about Anna and Sir Henry."

He shook his head emphatically. "Cannot do it."

"Cannot do what?" Haverstock asked. He strolled into the sunny room and kissed his sister's hand.

"Mother is excessively vexed with you, Charles," Lydia snapped. "Not one night since Anna left have you slept in your own bed. She even went so far as to say you were better off with the daughter of the horrid French woman."

Morgie cast a warning glance at his friend. "I need to have a word with you, Haverstock. Should have spoken with you two days ago. It's quite important."

"You can speak in front of Lydia."

"Bloody well cannot. She ain't to know about. . .about your duties."

James now strolled into the drawing room. "You mean Charles' work at the Foreign Office?"

Morgie looked from James to Haverstock to Lydia.

"Oh, I know Charles toils away with cloak and dagger activities all in the name of the crown," Lydia said.

Morgie plopped into the nearest chair and sighed.

James took a seat near Morgie and poured himself a cup of tea from the tea table. "He's quite good at it, I am told."

Haverstock ran his hands through his disheveled hair. "Not so good that I didn't marry a French spy."

"That, my dear lord, you did
not
do," Morgie snapped. "The wretched Vinson played upon Anna's patriotism for England to make her think
you
were the French spy."

Would that he could believe his old friend, Haverstock thought wistfully, his eyes fixed on Morgie hopefully.

"She came to me the other day," Morgie continued. "It was – indeed always has been – obvious that she's devoted to you. She had come to realize Vinson had been duping her, that you were the one on the right side, not him. That's when we set a trap for him."

Three pair of eyes immediately attached themselves to Morgie. Not a sound could be heard in the room.

Morgie told them about Almshouse's play with Sir Henry and finished by telling about nabbing the French courier, who was even now in custody.

A gush of relief washed over Haverstock. Certainly what Morgie told him about the trap for Sir Henry vindicated Anna of wrong-doing. Or at least of intentional wrong-doing. "I must talk with the man," he said.

"Yes, I should have told you day before yesterday." Morgie grumbled. "Dare say Anna would still be here if I had. I can tell you she positively loathes Vinson. No way she would go off with him."

"That's not true," Lydia said. "She would go off with him if she thought she were protecting Charles."

Morgie steepled his hands in thought. "How could he make her think that?"

"It has to have something to do with Charles being called away from London," James interjected.

"Why
did
you leave?" Lydia asked Haverstock.

He proceeded to tell them about the hoax he was sure had been perpetrated by Sir Henry.

"Oh course!" Lydia exclaimed. "If he had you out of the way, he could persuade Anna that you were being blamed for whatever activities he was responsible for, and the only way she could clear your name was to admit her guilt and flee with him. Now I understand her letter to Colette." Lydia withdrew the letter from her reticule.

"She wrote to Colette?" Haverstock asked.

Lydia nodded and handed the letter to him.

He read it solemnly.

Damn! Once again he had done Anna an unpardonable injustice. With a vigilante madness, he'd blindly blamed her for outrageous deeds: seduction, treason, murder – even adultery. Even while his heart proclaimed her goodness, he sought fault with Anna.

A bitter self-anger raged within him. He had driven away the most precious person in his life. Never had he given consideration to her feelings. Was it possible that Morgie and Lydia were right about Anna's feelings for him? Her affection was not something he had ever allowed himself the luxury of presuming.

Whether she loved him or not, Haverstock could not allow her to be whisked off to France by Sir Henry. By God, she was his wife. And he would kill the man who took her away. The thought of Sir Henry forcing himself on Anna made Haverstock want to skewer the man on his sword.

Haverstock stalked toward the door. "I'm going after my wife."
My wife.
The words conveyed a heady rush of possession. His Anna. His love. If only he weren't too late.

James leaped to his feet. "
We're
going after her."

Chapter 28

Anna's stomach no longer rocked. The ship was moored, its passengers long gone. The cabin's heat had been replaced by a night chill. But still Sir Henry had not come for her. What game was he playing?

She had decided she would go along with whatever he wanted. Until she could free herself and rush back to London. For Charles' life depended on her. She must clear him.

Even if it meant her own death.

She heard footsteps, then the turn of a key in the lock.

Sir Henry opened the narrow wood door. "Feeling better, my dear?"

A barely perceptible nod tilted her head. She swept her hair back from her face and squared her shoulders, lifting her wrinkled pelisse. Then, she soundlessly followed him up a wood ladder to the deck.

"You'll find we're quite alone," he said. "I should not want to leave a warm trail for anyone desirous of following us."

"And who, pray tell, would choose to chase us to French soil?"

He tightly took hold of her elbow. "One cannot be too careful." He continued to grasp her arm as they walked down the gangway.

Anna saw the hired chaise waiting and knew her only chance of escape must be attempted before they reached the carriage. Off to the right the dim lights of a tavern shone. She would run there.

The instant she felt solid ground beneath her feet, Anna shoved Sir Henry and lunged forward.

"Stop her!" Sir Henry yelled.

She ran as hard as she could toward the tavern lights. From the corner of her eye she saw the coachman spring toward her. Sir Henry's footsteps pounded behind her.

She sprinted, propelled by fear and determination.

The stout coachman was able to get an angle on her and use his body between Anna and her destination. As she slowed to go around him, Sir Henry caught her from behind. He grabbed her with both his hands, the pressure so strong he dug into her flesh.

She struggled to break free, but his long fingers encircled her wrists, digging into her very bones. She fell down, and before she could stand up, he began to drag her as if she were a sack of grain. Her dress tore, and she stung from the dock's weathered wood scraping her raw flesh.

The coachman walked ahead and opened the carriage door. Sir Henry shoved Anna inside, keeping one hand banded tightly about her slender arm.

"To Paris?" the coachman asked.

"No," Sir Henry replied. "My wife and I go to Chateau Montreaux."

At the foot of the Haverstock House staircase, Morgie planted his booted feet on the marble floor and greeted the brothers. Then he cast a wary glance at Lydia, who sailed down the stairs in a dark green riding habit. "I say, bit late in the day for you to go riding, is it not, Lyddie?"

"Oh, I shall ride as far as Dover with you," she said casually. "I shan't be any trouble. I plan to visit an old friend there. I'll not take any trunks to slow us down."

Haverstock gave his sister a sideways glance. "She does ride as well as any man, Morgie."

"But what will the squire chap say about his betrothed traipsing around the country like that?" Morgie asked, hands on his hips as his eyes raked over Lydia.

"The squire has been obliged to return to Greenley Manor," Lydia informed him. "So he need never know how utterly unfeminine I am."

"Now, I wouldn't say that," Morgie said apologetically.

"Just who is this friend you plan to visit in Dover?" Haverstock asked, fetching his hat from the footman.

Lydia twirled her brown bonnet, suddenly quite interested in it. "Oh, dear me, this will never do." Running back up the stairs, she called, "I believe I'll get my green. I'll just be a minute."

Haverstock cast a suspicious look at his sister, but his worry over Anna quickly pushed Lydia's uncharacteristic coyness from his mind.

"Now, Morgie, I am quite concerned about you," Lydia pronounced, mounting the gangplank to the schooner. "I remember well how dreadfully sick you were back at Haymore just fishing from the placid little rowboat on our lake." She placed a booted foot on the deck, linked her arm through his and led the way onto the sailing vessel. "I have determined you need a place directly in the center of the boat. Less sway."

She swept by the profusely male passengers, Morgie silent at her side. "You must keep up your strength if you are to be of help to Anna. After all, she is our chief concern."

"Undoubtedly." His eyes darted from James to Haverstock – who were standing at the rail deep in conversation – to the plank, which was being raised. "I say, Lyddie, you had best depart now. The ship's about to sail."

"Another thing I've been concerned about," she said, ignoring his comment, "is your deplorable French. They'll take you for an Englishman straight away if you open your mouth. And that will certainly not help us find Anna."

"Us?"

"I think perhaps I should accompany you." She did not meet his gaze. "I could pretend to be your wife. That way I could do the talking. My French, you know, is uncommonly good."

"You can't go into France with us! It's far too dangerous."

"Pooh, I'll blend in with the natives." She stopped and faced him.

"Now see here," Morgie said, watching the ship inch away from the dock. "Haverstock!" he shouted.

The marquess, turning and seeing his sister still on the boat, rushed to her side. "What the deuce are you doing onboard?"

"I've decided to accompany you," Lydia stated.

"This is no trip for a woman," he said scathingly.

"Nothing will happen to me with my two brothers and dear Morgie to protect me."

"Got to do something with her, Haverstock," Morgie uttered.

Her brother watched the distance between the boat and dock widen. "What she needs is a good spanking." His mouth tightened into a grim line, then he met James at the stern. He had to remove himself from Lydia's presence lest he do something vulgar like shake her senseless.

"At least we're on the right track," James said hopefully. "Even if it is two days cold. We would have been mistakenly on our way to Bordeaux if you hadn't found that fisherman who remembered Anna and the
proper
English gentleman on the Calais boat."

 The fisherman's words still haunted Haverstock. "The lovely lady looked as if she were scared to death of something," he had said.

Haverstock seethed with a rage toward Sir Henry. Any harm the man meted against Anna would visit him tenfold, Haverstock vowed.

He watched the waves lap against the sides of the ship and felt the spray of salt water in his face. Each knot forward seemed endless. If only he weren't two full days behind! Not only were they at the disadvantage of two days' start, but they had no idea which direction Sir Henry would have taken.

What could he do to gain on them? Haverstock wondered. Sir Henry was sure to be hiring a traveling coach, so riding horseback should make up some of the distance. Provided they could determine Sir Henry's destination. Haverstock could make up additional time by not stopping for meals.

"Lydia's not being her usual practical self at all, it seems," James remarked.

"Lydia's fortunate to still have her neck intact."

"What do you plan to do with her?"

"Lydia has no part in my plans. Nothing will come between me and finding Anna. Lydia will have to take the first boat back to Dover."

"You know that won't be until tomorrow morning."

Haverstock nodded. "And I'll bloody well not wait. Morgie can take care of her."

"But – -"

"But she will be compromised by being forced to spend a night in Calais with him."

"Yes."

"My dear brother, has it not occurred to you that is the very thing Lydia wants?"

Before Dover's white cliffs were out of sight, Morgie's face turned a decidedly raw shade of green, his brow grew moist and he looked as if he were about to expire. At Lydia's insistence, he had plopped down on the wooden deck, dead in the center of the boat, putting his head between his drawn-up knees.

Pulling her skirts beneath her, she sat along side of him and stroked his sweaty brow. "Poor Morgie," she soothed.

As wretched as he felt, the touch of Lydia's hand brought him an almost settling feeling. That was the thing about Lyddie. She was settling. No wonder that squire fellow wanted her. What a fine home she would make for him and his brood. Perhaps it was because she was the first-born female. She had a way about her of completely taking charge. Of making things always run smoothly.