GypsyDukeEpub (32 page)

Once onboard, she realized looks could be deceiving. What appeared to be a decrepit fishing boat on the outside was actually well-togged on the inside. Though not plush by ton standards, they wouldn't sink once they gained the middle of the channel.

On the second night of her precipitous marriage to England's most infamous duke, she found herself in a fishing boat on a dark, damp voyage across the channel. Something she'd never done, following a series of experiences she'd never had.

Her husband, said duke, stood next to her, his arm and greatcoat wrapped snugly around her shoulders. Robert Westley stood at her other side. Though John had argued right up until they boarded the boat, Robert and the other men had refused to let them face danger alone.

It was somewhat incongruous to find that Robert acted the part of a valet exceedingly well. The man had hidden depths. Kitty knew several young ladies of new acquaintance who had hidden depths as well. She was certain she could find a suitable mate for the reluctant future viscount.

But right now, it seemed her new husband had more intimate endeavors
in mind. "Are you ready to retire, Kitty? The view will not improve now the sun has set."

"I have been ready and waiting for years, my lord."

"The wait is over," he whispered against her ear before turning to Robert. "Good night, Westley. My lady and I are for bed. See that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, mi'lord."

She wanted to laugh at the expression on Robert's face. John had gotten way too much sport out of Robert, continuously asking for things that normally he'd do for himself.

Although unused to the rolling of a boat, Kitty fell fast asleep after only a few moments. John, however, found that his thoughts weren't conducive for slumber.

Until Robert revealed Newport as the new owner of his estates, he'd been firmly convinced of Sir James' duplicity. He was the one who handed out the messages for the spies to carry. He was the one who knew the correct whereabouts of Wellington's troops at any given time. He was the one who had come forth with the information about John living with the gypsies.

It only made sense that whoever maintained contact with his uncle would be the traitor, and Uncle Bartholomew had visited Sir James at his residence. Could there be another explanation for that rendezvous?

Not bloody likely. John rammed his fist into his other hand.

Kitty stirred beside him, and he reached to smooth her hair away from her arm before bending to kiss her shoulder.

At least he had this. The most beautiful, feisty, loyal woman in all of England. And she was his. When they were children, he'd never expected to love her so much. He would make her happy. He would be the most exceptional duke and landowner ever.

What a long way he'd come from the doubtful lad dumped on a troupe of gypsies. He had the support of the gypsies who'd scorned him, the support of Kitty's father, who'd doubted him, the support of Robert, who'd always trusted him, and Kitty.

His little praying wife. Just before they boarded the craft, he'd caught her on her knees, eyes raised heavenward, mouth moving silently.

She'd smiled at him as he walked up then returned to her silent petitions. She really believed God was watching over them...had always watched over them.

After his disastrous upbringing and betrayal from his uncle, he'd had his doubts, but now…his own brief requests to God came back to haunt him. Blunt though they'd been, he'd seen immediate results. And he couldn't forget it. Was Kitty's God trying to tell him something?

That would be a first.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He would force sleep to come. Tomorrow might bring untold dangers. He had to be ready…with or without God's assistance.

The next morning, Kitty remembered very little about their landfall in the middle of the night. She knew John had carried her off the boat but naught else.

She glanced around the room. Were they at an inn? Her valise waited in the corner. At least, she'd be able to change clothes.

On the right of the bed, she found a washstand, a cloth, and a chamber pot. All the comforts of home. If you didn't mind waking without a fire in the grate.

She tentatively reached one foot to the wood floor. If you didn't like walking on floors without rugs.

She walked to the basin to wash her face.

The water chilled her hands. If you didn't mind washing in water cold enough to turn your fingers blue.

Consider your good fortune.
She gave her hands a brisk rub down the length of her dress.
You are dry, warm, and no wild animals, or tame come to think of it, cried out in the night, and you are with John.
A few inconveniences were worth having him nearby.

Surely he was nearby. He wouldn't leave her alone. Better to dress and see for herself.

She pulled a dress out of the case, lamenting its wrinkled state. If she'd brought a maid, her clothes would have been hung, her dress pressed and ready. But that would have meant one more person for John to get out of France alive.

She finished her preparations in record time, even managing to add a few coils at the back of her head. But she couldn't reach the many buttons at the back of the dress. Sometimes, the help of a maid was indispensable.

There was a short knock before John strode through the door.

Then again, a husband was a much better substitute.

She hurried toward him with a rustle of skirts.

"You are just in time, husband."

John dipped his head. "In time to kiss you?"

Which he did at great length until she didn't much care about the buttons at the back of her dress.

He sighed as his head rose. "Ah Kitty, you are a fine distraction, but we have no time for dallying."

"Then perhaps you would be so kind as to fasten my dress?"

John reached for her, but instead of the tightening of her dress, she felt the trail of his finger as it slid across her shoulders.

"John, if we truly have no time to dally, do not tempt me."

John laughed as he fastened the buttons. "Are you tempted?"

"Well and truly tempted."

The laughter disappeared from his face to be replaced by a look she was just learning.

"Minx," he said, before slowly lowering his head to kiss her.

She was breathless when he ended the kiss.

When she and John arrived downstairs, their party sat grouped together in a large common room.

"I was beginning to wonder if we would have to send someone after Somerset."

Kitty blushed at Robert's teasing glance, but John took the gentle ribbing in stride.

"My lady has no maid to fasten her buttons."

She found such a topic too personal for the gathering of men and strove for another, but Ardaix saved her.

"The carriage is ready, as well as horses for the…outriders that accompany you. How will you make contact?"

Until this point, John had refused to discuss the details of what they'd be doing. They were all in the dark as to his plans.

He cast an eye around the outskirts of the room as if searching for spies. "Are you sure this is a friendly place, Westley?"

"If it were not, the constant use of the English language would have placed us all in the Conciergerie prison long before now."

"Right." John sat at a table, pulling Kitty down beside him. "I heard the conversation of the men I suspect to be spies. They gave the time and the place for the exchange of information."

As Kitty watched, she noted how differently he acted when he led others. His strength of will, the confidence in his voice, produced a calming effect on them all. They accepted whatever he said without question.

"Even after I got him drunk, he said the same. I am quite sure we will find the rat in his hole. We will travel inward from the coast for approximately an hour to the Swinging Sisters Inn where the exchange
will occur."

That seemed to be the end of the discussion because the men traipsed out of the room, leaving John and Kitty.

She gazed after them in bewilderment.

John smiled. "They have already eaten. Grab a morsel or two, and we'll be on our way."

Kitty gulped down the tepid tea that waited and chewed steadfastly at the crusty french bread. She wouldn't have bothered at all, but there was no telling when they would eat again.

Outside, she found a heavy traveling coach ready to leave, with their luggage stowed in the back. The men waited in place. Michel as driver, Rasvan at the rear of the coach with Robert and Ardaix on horses as guard. They resembled any other nobleman's crew traveling unsafe highways.

With John's help, Kitty clambered into the carriage and seated herself beside a window. Not once had she seen the proprietor of their abode. Surely that was one way for a spy to retain his secret identity.

The coach moved, and Kitty reached out a hand to steady herself. She found John watching her, and she smiled. "What?"

"You look every bit the duchess today...you were right. No one who sees us will believe I was the scruffy gypsy passing messages in England."

Her heart swelled with pride. "Thank you, my lord. And may I return the compliment? You look every bit the fine duke, though if you did not have your hair pulled back in that queue, one would wonder at your unfashionably long hair."

"It bothers you, does it?"

"Not at all. I find it…rather wild…and provocative when your hair hangs down." She lowered her eyes unable to explain further.

"Provocative in what way, my duchess?" He pulled her across his lap.

Though he was teasing her, she found it exhilarating to be able to speak to him in such a manner. She fluttered her lashes at him and lowered her voice to a husky level. "I think you know, my lord, and are well pleased."

"I am in all ways pleased with you, my duchess."

John put Kitty away from him though he kept her hand in his. She was a mighty distraction from the job at hand, one that he enjoyed too much. It was a shame they spent the first nights of wedded bliss, and they had been bliss, on a mission for king and country.

He wanted nothing more than to return to the farmer's house, take Kitty upstairs, and spend the entire day showing her all the ways he
loved her. But that wasn't an option. If the opportunity for relaxation had been possible, he would have taken it in England, not on foreign soil, where their lives were at stake every minute of every day.

He would locate the traitor so he had proof for Wellington then he would return to England to confront his uncle and the traitors there. The whole business would be finished, and he and Kitty would live out peaceful lives.

He studied her animated profile. Even riding in a carriage, her liveliness was evident. Perhaps he wouldn't have a peaceful life. As he had told Robert long ago, he would never be bored with Kitty at his side.

It took more than an hour to reach the Swinging Sisters Inn. The day had already grown warm, and dust rose from the ground, causing John to close the windows of the coach. Either they sweltered in the heat or they choked on the dust.

While Ardaix, Michel, and Rasvan stabled the horses, John, Kitty, and Robert entered the inn.

Since Robert was acting as valet, he arranged for his lord and lady to have a place to rest and partake of sustenance.

They adjourned to a corner of the room, ostensibly waiting for something to be done about their coach, which needed repairs. Robert served them with many bows to the floor. Sometimes, it required all Kitty's self-control not to laugh.

After several hours of nothing to do, tedium set in. John left Kitty sitting in their little corner, with Robert at her side, to check on the progress of their "broken coach." Much ado was made of the fact that the worthless valet could not hasten the repairs, forcing his lordship to leave the questionable comfort of this seedy inn to accomplish the task himself.

When the doors closed behind him, Robert leaned toward Kitty. "When this is over, remind me that he needs a swift kick in the backside."

Kitty held her fan before her face to hide her laughter. "I do believe it was you who encouraged him to act the part of a duke."

"He has surpassed my every expectation."

"I believe he would find it amusing to hear you say so."

"Then pray, do not tell him."

John returned to them much sooner than they anticipated. His entire manner bespoke a man intent on action. He seated himself, speaking loudly in French. "I do believe we will be quitting this place soon, my dear."

Kitty turned questioning eyes to his, offering her best example of a bored aristocrat. "The coach is repaired?"

"Nearly so." In a low voice, he said, "My previous contact is here,
but there is something even more surprising. Newport is here."

Kitty hid her astonishment by hiding behind her fan. Robert was much more accomplished than she at dissembling. He merely nodded.

"How will you search the informer without being seen?"

"I have not yet worked that out."