Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) (37 page)

A little before noon Bram made his way through the woods to the spot where Silver sat watching the back of the house. “You
sure
this is the right place, Syl?”

“I’m sure,” she said grimly. “Luc described it without question. And the man’s probably in there right now.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “He’ll have to come out sometime.”

“No problem with me,” Bram said cheerfully. “It will save me from distilling that new batch of lavender with Tinker. I only wish we had brought something for lunch.”

Silver was just about to direct him to the pigeon pies wrapped in muslin inside her saddlebags, when a tiny door eased open at the base of the mill. A man appeared above the narrow steps that led down to the peaceful stream. Quickly, she pulled Bram back beneath the covering foliage of a willow tree. “Do you see him?”

“I see,” her brother said softly.

As they watched, breathless, a figure in a drab cloak edged slowly down the steps with a heavy miller’s sack clutched beneath one arm. The steps where he stood were half hidden behind a crumbling brick foundation. In the dead of night or with any hint of mist clinging to the river, the man would have been invisible.

It was no wonder Luc had missed him, Silver thought.

A moment later a boat pulled silently out of the reeds along the far shore. A man in a dark brown jacket and moleskin trousers bent to the oars.

Silver caught back a gasp.

There was something very familiar about the man at the oars. The set of his shoulders and the color of his trousers left a cold feeling in her stomach.

Unless she was mistaken, he was the leader of the band who had terrorized her at Lavender Close.

Silver’s eyes hardened as she watched the boat draw up to the steps. The other man tossed his sack aboard, then climbed in clumsily.

“What do we do now, Syl?” Bram’s voice was hoarse with excitement.

“I believe that we shall follow them.”

~ ~ ~

At that same moment nearly ten miles away Luc Delamere stood glaring at a sleepy-eyed James Tinker.

“What do you mean, she isn’t bloody
here?”
he thundered.

“Just what I said,” the old servant snapped. “Reckon she must’ve dodged out just afore dawn. Aye, and it’s surprised I am that she had any strength left to move, seeing how busy she was making herself with some
other
person last night in the lavender fields on the hillside.”

Luc bit back a curse, flushing slightly. So the old servant knew about that, did he? Of course, a fellow couldn’t hope for a shred of secrecy. Not at Lavender Close Farm!

He’d left Silver as the sun rose, far sooner than he wanted to, but he had business at Waldon Hall and plans to lay with Connor MacKinnon. Who’d have thought the reckless female would sneak off as soon as his back was turned?

Luc ran through all the places where he might find her. There was the gaming hall in Kingsdon Cross or even the bordello. He shuddered to think of what deviltry she might be about
there.

Sweet heaven, she might even have gone back to the Green Man!

One thing was certain, Luc decided. When he did find her, he was going to flay her tender little backside. He would shake some sense into her. A little healthy terror might not be such a bad thing if it kept her safe and in one piece.

Luc was just coming to this resolve when a cough at his shoulder made him turn. He scowled at his towering friend. “James Tinker, meet Connor MacKinnon,” he said curtly.

“Another one of your highway friends?” the old servant asked. “He’s got the look of a thief about him, so I’m thinking.”

The blonde-haired MacKinnon threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming like thunder from his broad chest.

“Some of his business competitors would no doubt call him a thief,” Luc said dryly. “As the man has saved my hide more than once, I suppose I can’t be too hard on him.”

But as Luc looked out over the flower fields, watching lavender and early-morning mist run together in a shimmering haze of purple, his smile faded. “I expect I’ll have to go drag the female back.”

“It’s you or myself,” the old servant said grimly. “I’m afraid I don’t seem to have done too well at keeping her safe.”

“You’ve done the best you can, Tinker. I’ll go. You stay and keep an eye on things here. This time, however, I mean to see that the female stays put,” Luc said darkly. “Even if I have to
marry
her to do it.”

Tinker’s lips twitched. “Good luck, your lordship,” he said. “I’ve tried for over ten years to make her listen to me and have had no luck.” His eyes narrowed. “Then again, mebbe you’ll be more lucky, seeing as how you’re a man what has special charms with the ladies.”

“With
this
lady I do,” Luc said darkly. “Whether she’s realized it or not.”

At his side Connor MacKinnon listened thoughtfully. So there was a woman at the heart of the business, was there? Hardly surprising, considering Luc’s vast experience at seduction. But
this
woman sounded different. And
marriage
? This was not at all like Luc.

At least not the Luc Delamere that Connor used to know.

A slow smile swept over MacKinnon’s face as he contemplated the thought of Lucien Delamere, once the ton’s most eligible bachelor and most hardened flirt, leg-shackled and heart-bound at last.

The woman must be a rare jewel indeed! Connor found he couldn’t wait to meet her.

There was no hiding the mischief in his eyes as he followed his friend to their horses.

The sun climbed higher.

Silver and Bram followed the stream for miles. While the oarsman bent to his work, the passenger remained huddled in the rear of the boat.

Sunlight slanted through the willows as the two riders moved north in pursuit, careful to keep well back out of sight. In their caution they nearly let the boat escape once when it slid into a side stream that veered east.

Bram’s stomach was growling loudly now. The bit of shaved ham and pigeon pie had disappeared long ago.

“It can’t be much farther,” the boy said, frowning at the rushing water. “This stream will soon run into the broader flow of the Ouse. And beyond that lies King’s Lynn.”

“I expect it’s King’s Lynn that the villain’s headed for, Bram.”

Her brother sighed. “You don’t suppose — well, that we should send a message to Luc and let him know where we are?”

“Not a bit of it,” Silver said firmly. “We will manage perfectly well by ourselves without that man galloping about risking life and limb in our pursuit.”

“Yes, I rather think we will,” her brother said, cheered by Silver’s confidence. “I only wish we could stop to eat.”

It was well into the afternoon when they crossed the little stone bridge that lead into Lynn, as the locals called the bustling market town on the banks of the Ouse. As Silver cantered along Bridge Street, she made out the spires of St. Nicholas church towering high above her.

They crossed several crowded streets and passed a row of warehouses clustered along the river, struggling to keep their quarry in sight. Finally, near a tall timber-framed warehouse overhanging the water, they saw the little boat glide into a shadowed anchorage. Silver and Bram watched the unknown traveler make his way up a rickety set of steps and disappear into a passageway that led up to the warehouse.

“Did you see him?” Bram asked eagerly. “Went right into that warehouse, he did. We’ve got him now. The only question is, what do we do next?”

Silver surveyed the lower sweep of the river. Several coal boats rocked at anchor, awaiting more cargo before putting out into the Wash. Nearby, a dozen or so urchins were busy splashing in the water with noisy gaiety. Her eyes began to gleam. “I think I have an idea, Bram. Wait here.”

~ ~ ~

Fifteen minutes later the horses were stabled on a side street and Bram and Silver were making their way into the heart of Lynn to look for a respectable place to eat.

It had been accomplished more easily than Silver thought possible. She had had a word with the leader of the band of ragamuffin boys playing in the river and offered them two crowns to keep watch on the warehouse. Should their traveler emerge, the boys were to come fetch Silver immediately.

As Silver soon discovered, the boys knew that particular warehouse well. Havey cavey goings on there, the leader confided. Boats going in and out at all hours of day and night with men who didn’t talk English and kept their faces covered while they plied the oars.

And as for their traveler in the boat, the boys gave her better information still. After creeping through a broken window, they had overheard the intelligence that the man’s transportation would not be ready for an hour.

Oh, and wasn’t there much shouting and arguing at
that
news, the boy had gleefully relayed. But it was all to no avail. The man would just have to wait.

“Which means, mum, that you and your brother have a whole hour to stroll about. Go on with you then. We’ll keep an eye on your friend and the warehouse right proper. Besides, the pair o’ you look peaked. Have a speck to eat over on King Street or try the shops just past the Guildhall,” the urchin urged with a hint of local pride. “Their cakes are proper smashing.”

With their plucky comrade’s assurances to call them at the first sign of activity. Silver and Bram had left.

The sun shone down from a cloudless sky as they strolled past the fine shops on King Street. Bram still looked worried, however. “Are you sure we ought to, Syl? We don’t want the villain to escape, after all.”

“We have to eat,” Silver said practically. “And I have a feeling that that young man and his friends will do a far better job of watching the river than we could. It’s practically their home. They must know every bend and narrow and any number of ways in and out, while we would stick out like a regiment of cavalry in a churchyard.”

“I expect you’re right,” Bram said finally. If the truth be told, he was regretting a chance to trade stories with the hardy band of street boys. Still, he
was
hungry. And Silver
did
need someone to keep an eye on her.

Suddenly his eyes widened. “Say, that looks a fine sort of place across the street. May we stop, Syl? Just for a moment or two?”

Silver stared ruefully at her dust-stained skirt, but there was nothing to be done about that. She smoothed down her hair and straightened her riding jacket, then offered her arm to Bram. “It’s sounds lovely to me. Lead on.”

And it was a good decision, because after tea and cakes they both felt much better equipped to deal with the villainous stranger back in the warehouse.

Silver kept a close eye on the clock in the square. After eating, they still had forty-five minutes left, and they decided to have a look around the bustling shops in the shadow of the Duke’s Head Hotel.

The streets were especially crowded today, so their young river friends had said. It seemed that the Prince Regent and a very select party were passing through Lynn on the way to a week of hunting at a nearby estate. Silver felt a prick of regret as she admired the women in bright dresses of sprig muslin, sarsenet, and sheerest tulle set off with gay ribbons and feathers.

As the fashionable ladies streamed past her, Silver was made uncomfortably aware of just how outmoded her own riding costume was. But she didn’t mean to let that bother her. Raising her chin, she moved through the crowds, ignoring the faint sneers that were directed at her as a simple country bumpkin.

And Silver was determined to enjoy the time in the lovely little market town with its elegant sprawl of streets. The boys at the river had assured her that if the traveler left sooner than expected, they would send someone to alert her. So there was no reason to feel a prickle of uneasiness at her neck, Silver told herself sternly.

Yet feel it she did, again and again, as she and Bram walked along the cobbled lanes.

Bram looked anxiously at his sister. “Do you have the feeling that someone is following us, Syl?”

Silver hid a frown. This was precisely what she had been feeling, but she didn’t want to alarm her brother. “Someone? Hundreds, surely.”

“No, Syl.” The crease between Bram’s eyes grew deeper. “I mean one person in particular. With eyes
only
on us. I’ve felt it ever since we turned onto King Street.”

“I’m sure you must be mistaken, my love,” Silver said with a confidence she did not feel. “I expect it’s because we’re not used to these crowds.”

Once again Silver felt a prickle at her neck. Turning swiftly, she scanned the street behind her.

Strangers, one and all, each one intent on his business. Not a single set of eyes showed any interest in Silver or her brother.

But Silver couldn’t shake the notion that they
were
being watched.

Fortunately her brother was distracted at that moment by a glittering array of cut-crystal bottles displayed in a shop advertising select perfumes and pomades from every corner of the world.

“Let’s look in, shall we?” Bram urged. “Just to see what they carry and how it compares with our products.”

Silver nodded and a few moments later they were in the middle of a very select establishment, rubbing elbows with elegant society ladies and a crowd of very dashing gentlemen.

Bram, however, had eyes only for the fragile crystal decanters. Immediately he set about exercising his singular gift, the gift passed down from his father and his father before him. Moving from bottle to bottle, he sniffed slightly, measuring the true contents against the advertised ones.

His frown showed his opinion of the exquisitely lettered placards that purported to list the various rare and expensive ingredients.

Silver, meanwhile, was called upon to advise two young women on a choice of scents. Hiding a smile, she assured one of them that “oakmoss, sandalwood, and vetiver were too heavy for the heat of summer” and the other that her selection of musk and tuberose was unsuitable for a lady of her delicacy and youth.

A few moments later, she was not quite certain how, Silver found herself consulted by a portly gentleman in a severely elegant black frock coat and an immaculate gray damask waistcoat.

His eyes seemed to twinkle when she asked whom he was buying for. “My, er, sister. Yes, it’s a gift for my sister. What would you suggest?”

“This would be a great deal too forceful, I’m afraid. A woman of taste always prefers something with subtlety,” Silver explained, echoing the same sentiments that had made her father a master perfumer twenty years earlier. When the distinguished stranger moved away a few minutes later, eyes still twinkling, he held three scents that Silver assured him would be precisely the thing for his sister.

Brandon, meanwhile, was drawing a crowd as he moved about, appraising bottle after bottle. “Bergamot, tuberose, and ambergris?” He took a careful sniff. “Nothing but lemon and rosewater here — and a very inferior sort at that.” Frowning, the boy moved to the next display, which featured a satin box of lavender sprigs tied in purple ribbons. “‘Royal lavender, fit for a queen,’“ he read, then sniffed the nearby bottle. “Lavender, do they call this? Why it’s nothing but cheapest spike oil that grows wild on the French hillside! Not even carefully distilled at that. Won’t carry for an hour without losing all its body. Why, Father used to say that—”

“Not lavender?” A quiet and very cultured voice came close at Silver’s shoulder. “Pray excuse my rudeness in intruding, but I could not help overhearing the boy over there — your brother, I think? — discussing this perfume. He seems to have a wonderful ability to judge the contents.”

Silver turned and found an imperious old woman studying her keenly. “I beg your pardon. I fear we are being very rude. It’s just that perfume is a kind of passion for us. It was our father’s love, and he raised us to care about it, too, you see. My brother becomes dreadfully angry when he finds people being, well, misled.”

“Misled?” The old woman chuckled. “Hoodwinked is the word for it. I’ve always suspected that Holcombe was fleecing his customers shamelessly, and I’m delighted to discover that I’m right.”

“Oh, I’m certain the owner doesn’t mean to,” Silver said quickly. “It’s simply that ingredients can vary. What one buys in August can be most sadly disappointing in November, you see.”

The old woman laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t see, my dear. I begin to suspect that my education has been seriously lacking. I really must prevail upon you for some advice.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Silver suddenly realized that half the eyes in the shop were turned upon her. “That is, I don’t even know—”

“The Duchess of Cranford,” came the prompt reply.

Silver answered with a graceful curtsy, flushing slightly, very much aware of her dusty skirts and windblown hair. “Susannah St. Clair,” she said softly.

Fragile fingers met hers. “I beg you won’t be formal with me. I need a scent for my granddaughter, you see. It is for a very special evening, and I require something quite exceptional.”

Silver was captivated. How could she resist such a request, which put all her skill and experience to the test? She studied the duchess for a moment, gnawing at her lip. “Would you describe her? It is always best to have an image in mind.”

The duchess smiled. “She is rather taller than I am, with titian hair and fine blue eyes.”

“She is active? Spends a great deal of time outside? Activity may affect a scent,” Silver explained artlessly, already lost in cataloging the various suitable possibilities.