DD-Michaels-END.rtf (33 page)

Morgan glared at him. "Very funny, Ethan. Don't interrupt. They know you're the messenger. They followed yo
u
—
s
omeone followed you. And, if they're following you, they're probably also watching the
Marianna.
If they haven't already captured her. No matter how they stop the messages, they simply need them stopped. You have thought of that, haven't you?"

Now it was Ethan's turn to kiss her cheek
,
for she was truly an amazing woman, with a mind that worked quickly, efficiently, on a problem most of his male acquaintances wouldn't grasp in a fortnight of explanations.

"I have, General Becket, yes. But there's not a damned thing I can do now but wait at Becket Hall
,
watching for the ship. This message means nothing, I know that. Our government refuses to budge on the idea of what the Americas call impressment. Marianna's been risking her own ship, her own crew, her own life
,
only to delay the inevitable. The majority of Madison's government, and ours, is set on war."

"And Chance knows all of this, because of his position at the War Office. He's told my father about the
Marianna
?”

"
I carry a letter from him, yes. Your brother believes your father could prove useful, if we need him."

Morgan smiled, relaxing as much as it was possible to relax, knowing the danger they were in if Becket Hall drew the attention of the French. For most of the previous summer, a French ship had patrolled just outside the range of
English guns, deliberately serving as a reminder of just how close danger could come at any time. Attracting the attention of the French to Becket Hall in particular would mean attracting the Waterguard as well, and the Black Ghost Gang would see their smuggling runs come to an abrupt halt because of an overcrowded sea.

And that was another secret she'd have to remember to share with Ethan someday. But not now. She had to concentrate on their current problem.

"All the
Marianna
has to do is to drop anchor at Becket Hall. If she can do that, Papa and Courtland and Jacko will take care of the rest."

"Really," Ethan said, smiling at the fairly smug tone of her voice. "You've so little confidence in my ability to handle the situation?"

"Don't be silly. But there's safety in number
s
— everyone knows that."

"You're that formidable a family, are you?"

She slipped her arm through his, leaned against his shoulder. "Worried?"

"Terrified," he said, kissing her upturned face. "But my quavering knees aside, the more I think about the thing, the more sure I am the Frenchman was acting alone. In any case, the inn yard was the last chance anyone had to get the cylinder, now that your father's men have joined us. So, if you want to ride now, I wouldn't say no. The cylinder, however, stays here."

"With my outriders."

"If you don't mind, yes. If those six frighten me, any Frenchman who sees them will be long gone by now."

"Will I meet this Marianna you used to know but who married someone else?" Morgan asked as Ethan shifted to the other seat, then opened the small door to call up to his coachman.

Ethan turned to look at her, not surprised that Morgan had returned to the subject of Marianna. "She was a long time ago, imp. Another lifetime, and she chose the better man."

"Her Richard was undoubtedly a good man. But I will meet her? She's coming to Becket Hall, isn't she?"

"I don't know if there will be time for visits, imp," Ethan said as the coach slowed, then stopped, and he helped Morgan down in the middle of what looked to be a vast, flat land populated only by sheep. "That depends on the tides, I imagine. And the possibility of pursuit. Where are we?"

Morgan cast her gaze left and right, then lifted her head and sniffed the air. "Closer to home than you might think," she said, then pointed to the east. "With the land this flat, we travel by church spires, which is why they're built so tall. Outsiders think we're very religious, which many of us might be. But
for many more, those spires show the way for free traders on even the darkest night. I believe that's Smarden's spire, over there. You can barely see it, but if you squint..."

"Free traders. Smugglers," Ethan said as Harold rode toward him, leading Alejandro and Berengaria. "Should I ask how you know about such goings-on?"

Morgan turned to him, grinning. "No, you probably shouldn't."

"I didn't think so," Ethan said, walking with her toward the horses, only to have Harold noisily clear his throat. "Yes, Harold?"

"That's the wrong saddle on the mare, milord," he said, bending down to whisper the words. "One of those hulkin' beasts what joined up with us put it on by mistake, but I didn't think it was my place to say so. Shall I fetch the lady's sidesaddle?"

"No, Harold, the mare's fine, the saddle's fine. We're still in England, but entering a new country in many ways, and the rules here are
......
different."

"Sir?"

"I know, Harold. I don't understand all of it yet, either. But we'll muddle through." Ethan watched as one of the outriders cupped his hands for Morgan, and she vaulted smoothly onto Berengaria'
s
back. She looked magnificent. "Yes, we'll muddle through...."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Morgan raced through her toilette, still unaccustomed to having a maid to help her or, in the case of the constantly fussing Louise, hinder her.

"Really, Louise," she said as she tapped her foot and looked into the mirror over the dressing table, "my hair is fine the way it is, and it's always like this."

"It shouldn't be, Miss Becket. Let me try one more time, please. Ladies who have made their come-out wear their hair up, everyone knows that. You've just so
much
hair, and all of it so slippery and straight. If you'd on
l
y
l
et me warm the curling stick..."

Morgan almost relented. Almost. But Ethan could already be downstairs, surrounded by her family. And, she thought, smiling slightly, he wasn't even armed.

"I can't, Louise," she said, getting to her feet, using a quick shake of her head to toss her long hair back over her shoulders. "Either we tie it all up with a bow, or I go downstairs like this. We're not in London, Louise. Nobody cares."

Louise made a short
humph
sound and relented, picking up a length of blue ribbon and motioning for Morgan to turn around. "I'll be happy to go back to civilization, you know."

"And I'll be delighted t
o
—
o
h, Louise, I'm sorry. I love pretty things, I really do. But I'm home now, and my family is waiting downstairs."

Louise fussed with the edges of the bow she'd tied at Morgan's nape, then stood back to admire her work. "His lordship is waiting downstairs, Miss Morgan, that's what you mean. You should keep him waiting."

"Yes, so Mrs. Julia has already told me," Morgan said, shaking out the skirts of her ivory silk gown accented with deep blue embroidery at the neckline, sleeves and hem. It was one of her favorites. "There. How do I look?"

"Like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, and much better than you should do after the day you've had," Louise said, putting a hand to the small of her back as she all but tottered to a chair and sat down. "Blood, and dead men, sleeping on pallets hard as stone. Bad roads and nothing but grass and sheep to look at to pass the hours. Never seen the sea before, and never want to again."

Morgan acted on impulse and leaned over to kiss the older woman's cheek. "I'll ask someone to bring up some tea and cakes, all right? And then you can go off to bed. I won't need you anymore tonight, I promise."

Louise opened her mouth to respond, then quickly decided that a person stuck between the deadly sea and a desolate land should know better than to say, "No,
he
’ll
be helping you
off with
that gown, won't he?" and simply smiled and nodded as Morgan left the bedchamber.

Morgan raced to the head of the stairs, to be joined there by Cassandra, her youngest sister, who had more than likely been lying in wait for her.

"I saw him, Fanny and me both, when he came upstairs," Callie said, her eyes wide. "Quite the London gentleman, Fanny says. His clothes are wonderfully fancy. None of the boys dress like that, except maybe Chance, and then only when he first arrives from London. Very fancy! Courtland dresses as if he expects to fall in a puddle at any moment, and wants to make sure it wouldn't matter. Is your fancy man really going to marry you and take you away? Fanny says maybe, unless it has to be over Papa's dead body. Why can't you all just stay here?"

"Why, Cassandra Becket," Morgan teased, taking hold of her sister's hand as they descended the wide, curving staircase, "anyone would think you'd missed me. Did you miss me? I was barely gone, you know."

"I know, but now Spencer's taken to teasing me, with you away, and I'm fairly certain that I'll soon have to put a frog in his bed. It isn't fair, being the youngest one. I'm fourteen, Morgan, not a baby. If / was old as you, I'd put up
my
hair. But I will never go to London because Papa would pine for me. Why won't he go to London, Morgan? Court says London is a great big bore, so he won't go there, either. But how would Court know that, since he's never been there? Is London a great big bore?"

"Goodness, Callie," Morgan said, as they approached the opened doors to the main drawing room, "you've got a tongue that runs on wheels, you know that? Tomorrow. I'll answer all your questions tomorrow, I promise."

And then she smiled, because there stood Ethan in all his London "fancy" clothes, talking to Eleanor, who was sitting in her usual chair in her usual quiet, passive way. Yet even Ethan seemed to know that impressing E
ll
y was his surest way to ingratiate himself with the Becket family.

"Callie," she asked quietly, "would you please go find someone and ask them to take tea and cakes up to my chamber for my maid? Please?"

"Fanny said you brought a maid. If you have a maid, Morgan, why is your hair down? If / had a maid, I'd
—
"

"Callie,
scoot,"
Morgan said, watching as Ethan bowed and excused himself to Eleanor, then walked toward her, his pleased expression at the sight of her causing her heart to do a small, pleasant turn inside her chest.

She offered her hand to him, knowing Elly was watching, and h
e
bent over it, brought it to his lips before looking at her, seeing her broad smile.

"What?" he asked, wishing to be included in whatever joke she found so amusing.

"Nothing," Morgan said quietly. "It's just that you're so pretty."

Ethan laughed. "Aware as I am that the two of us are enacting a small, civilized play here tonight for the benefit of your family, I should probably point out that that's
my
line, madam. And, I believe, in defense of my entire gender, to tell you that men are never considered
pretty."

"But it's true, Ethan," Morgan told him in all seriousness, with all of her usual honesty. "I don't think I'll ever tire of looking at you, or of how I feel when I do."

"And now you're going to tell me we can't disappear for an hour or so without anyone noticing," Ethan said, his voice low, his tone intimate. "Especially now, when all I can think about is untying that damn bow and burying my face in your hair."

"I should tell Louise your reaction, then maybe she'd understand why I refused to let her tie my hair in knots on top of my head." Then Morgan had an idea. "Hm
m
...
p
erhaps she does know."

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing important, I promise. And, unfortunately, yes, we are expected to stay here. You've met E
ll
y, I see. Our papa calls her our
petite générale,
although not in front of her, of course. I have to go say hello to her. Come with me?"

"Yes, of course. Your sister was just about to show me some of her drawings."

Morgan halted in her progress across the large room, looked at Ethan in amazement. "Really? What on earth have you been saying to her? Elly never lets any of us see her drawings, except for Papa."

"Possibly because she's decided that none of her siblings has developed much of an appreciation for art?"

Morgan grinned. "Possibly. Even probably. We're ignorant oafs for the most part. She's our only civilizing influence. Poor thing, saddled with us, but I imagine she didn't have much choice, being the oldest, and with her leg and all. It wasn't as if she could run wild here, like the rest of us."

"Her leg?"

"Shh, not now." She went to Eleanor then and bent to kiss her cheek. "You've got to come to London, El
l
y.
 
It's everything you said it was, and the people are even worse than you said, although some are better. You'd love it."

Eleanor shook her head slightly. "I don't think his lordship needs to know my poor opinion of society, Morgan, especially as I know nothing I haven't read, not having visited the metropolis."