The Duke's Men [1] What the Duke Desires (18 page)

When the steam packet approached Dieppe, she found herself wishing that she had the
courage to pry. Then again, he was adept at avoiding uncomfortable subjects. She doubted
that a couple of days with her was going to unlock his reticence.

Realizing that they would be tied up for a while on the shore with customs and the
like, she excused herself to visit the necessary. When she was done and had come back
out to head toward where Max stood near the front of the ship, she nearly collided
with a gentleman in a gray surtout who was rounding the corner toward her.

He tugged his hat down and mumbled, “Beg pardon, ma’am,” then scurried into the necessary.
But not before she caught the familiar vile scent of Spanish cigarillos.

Her heart stopped. Hucker.

Instantly she chided herself for being so absurd. Why would Hucker be
here
on the packet to France?
Why would he follow them all the way from London?

Still, the day before yesterday, she’d thought she’d seen him in the street opposite
the house. And at the coach office she’d felt almost certain that someone was watching
her.

Her blood chilled in her veins. It seemed unlikely, but . . .

She hesitated, tempted to wait until the man came out again so she could get a good
look at him and make sure it wasn’t Hucker. But if it were and he realized that she
knew of his pursuit, escaping him might be much harder.

Then it dawned on her why he might be following her—to find Tristan. Good Lord, could
Hucker actually be hunting for her brother?

She hurried down the corridor and out onto the deck, wiping her clammy hands on her
cloak. Perhaps she was being hasty. Plenty of men probably smoked Spanish cigarillos.
And after all these years, why would George send his man of affairs after Tristan
now
?

Once they’d left Yorkshire, George had seemed to give up the search, probably because
looking for them on the Continent would have cost him a fortune since he’d had no
idea where they’d gone. And from what Dom had been able to find out back then, George
hadn’t had a fortune. Or time to hunt down Tristan. His hands had been full dealing
with the estate Papa had left behind.

As the years had passed in France, they’d begun to feel safe. It had seemed that George’s
thirst for blood
had been sated once she and Tristan and Maman were out of his hair. It was precisely
because George had no longer seemed a threat that Dom and Tristan had felt secure
in having her come from France to live with—

She groaned. Good Lord,
that
would explain why Hucker might be hanging about all of a sudden. News of her living
with Dom could have trickled back to George. It would have enraged him to hear that
one of the half siblings he’d thought himself well rid of was living in England again,
bold as brass. Knowing George, he was probably just waiting for Tristan to show up,
too. The thought of them living out in the open in London with Dom would drive him
mad.

But mad enough to send Hucker after her? She wasn’t sure.

She had to figure it out without alerting the man that she had recognized him, or
it wouldn’t be nearly as easy to give him the slip. And they
had
to give him the slip, because she wasn’t about to let him drag Tristan back to England
to be hanged.

Ducking into the dining room, she watched furtively out of one of the windows for
the man in the gray surtout. When he strolled past, he appeared to be scanning the
deck for someone. Unfortunately, he kept his hat so low over his face that she couldn’t
make out his features.

Drat it all. She would have to ask for the duke’s help. He already barely trusted
her and this would ruin that. The minute she mentioned that they were being
followed, he would know there was more to Tristan’s situation than she’d said.

Worse yet, after how she’d hidden the truth from him, he would never agree to help
her unless she agreed to tell him
everything
.

Fine, then she would do what she must. She would just have to pray that he could be
trusted with her family’s secrets.

M
AXIMILIAN LEANED ON
the rail as the boat approached Dieppe. He couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying
himself. It was a sunny day, with lazy clouds scudding above, reflected on a sea that
was a sheet of green glass, unusual for a Channel crossing. His sailing yacht wouldn’t
have moved an inch in this calm, but the steam packet chugged along with great enthusiasm,
plowing up the sea behind it.

Oddly, the noise of the engines no longer bothered him much. His belly was full, his
head had stopped hurting, and he would soon be in France, one of his favorite places
to visit.

Best of all, not a soul was paying him any mind. Who could have known that being a
“regular person” could be so satisfying? For the first time in his life, he was truly
anonymous. No one was cozying up to him because of his money and rank, no one was
recording his every move to report in some gossip rag, and no
one, absolutely
no one,
was watching to see if he was going mad.

Least of all his lovely companion.

He smiled. The minx never failed to surprise him. One moment, she was vowing her determination
to be one of her brother’s “men”; the next, she was flouncing off to talk about bonnets
and fabric with a lot of chattering females.

She challenged and teased him by turns, showed an interest in his past but never pried.
And she made him burn. No woman had done that since his father’s madness had made
him rethink his prospects for marriage. He hadn’t
let
any woman do it until her.

No matter how much he told himself that his desire for her couldn’t lead anywhere,
he couldn’t seem to stop it.

As if she’d read his mind, she came up to stand next to him at the rail, and every
muscle in him went taut just at her presence. Holy God, what a fool he was.

“You were right about the steam packet,” he said conversationally. “We got here much
more quickly than we ever would have in my yacht.”

She said nothing in answer, which surprised him. Lisette never lacked for anything
to say. He glanced down to find her staring out at the sea with a serious expression.

Even that could not darken his mood. “You’re not going to exult that you were right?”
he teased.

“I need a favor from you,” she said in a low voice,
“and I need you to do it without asking any questions. Time is of the essence.”

“That sounds ominous,” Maximilian said, amused by her dramatic pronouncement.

She didn’t smile. “I think there’s a man on board the packet who followed us from
London. If it’s who I think it is, we have to get rid of him.”

“What did you have in mind?” Maximilian kept his tone light, though her manner was
starting to unsettle him. “Stabbing? Strangulation? Or simply tossing him over the
side?”

Her solemn gaze shot to him. “Don’t be ridiculous. We have to keep him from following
us on to . . . to where we’re going.”

His amusement fled. “You’re serious.”

“Very.”

A slow chill spread over him. Why would someone be following them?

Surely she was letting her imagination run away with her. He angled his body toward
her and surreptitiously scanned the deck behind them. “What does he look like?”

“He’s about my height and built like a pugilist. He’s wearing a gray surtout and a
hat pulled low over his face.”

“I do see a fellow who looks like that.” What’s more, the man was edging back out
of his sight, as if not wanting to be noticed.

That put Maximilian on guard. She definitely wasn’t
imagining it. And the fact that someone might be following them gave him pause. Because
it meant there were things she hadn’t told him, things other than the location of
her brother.

Things he suspected he wouldn’t like.

Maximilian stared hard at her. “Tell me who he is. Or who you fear he is.”

“George’s man of affairs, a fellow named Hucker.” Her words came out in a rush. “The
day before yesterday I thought I saw him outside Manton’s Investigations, but I assumed
I was wrong since we’ve had no contact with George in years. Even now, I can’t be
sure it’s him until I see his face. I need you to help me with that.”

She still refused to look at him, which turned his blood to ice in his veins. It was
a sign of guilt. “I’m not helping you with a damned thing until I get some answers.
Why would Rathmoor’s man of affairs be following you? What or who does he seek?”

She paled. “Tristan.”

Of course. Who else? “Why?”

“We don’t have time for this!” she whispered, turning her face to his. It showed panic,
and that made his gut twist despite his growing anger. “We need to have a plan in
place before we reach Dieppe so we can throw him off the scent. I swear I will tell
you everything once we’re en route to . . . to . . .”

That she was still prevaricating fueled his temper. “To
where
, damn it?” he snapped.

She hesitated, but clearly she knew that he now held
all the cards. “Paris,” she finally said. Her expression was full of pleading. “Now,
will you help me figure out if it’s Hucker? And if it is, will you help me get away
from him?”

Confound her to blazes. What secret was she hiding? She had to be hiding something,
if Rathmoor was sending men to follow her.

“All right.” As a palpable relief flashed over her face, he added tersely, “But once
we’re safely away, you will tell me exactly what this is about. There will be no more
evasions, no more omissions. I want all the truth. Is that understood?”

She swallowed hard, then nodded. Glancing furtively in the man’s direction, she lowered
her voice. “Here’s what I suggest that we do, to figure out if it’s Hucker.”

She proceeded to describe a complicated scheme involving having Maximilian trip the
fellow so that his hat fell off and she could see his face.

“I have a simpler idea,” he bit out.

Turning from the rail, he headed for the wheelhouse. She followed, protesting in low,
urgent whispers that he ignored. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that their
quarry was taking great pains to avoid meeting them head-on.

He scowled. If she had said from the beginning that they might be followed, he would
have been more careful. But no, she’d had to keep her cards close to her chest for
her own devious purposes. He should have known not to believe her when she’d claimed
she’d never lied to him. But he’d been enticed into thinking that she was unlike any
woman he’d ever known.

She was, but only because she was playing a role. How had he not realized that after
her convincing playacting in the coach? That should have been a clear clue that she
was not to be trusted.

But he’d let himself be taken in. He’d let her distract him from his purpose regarding
her brother, and now he was going to pay for it. He should have heeded his instincts.
There had clearly always been far more to this situation than she’d admitted. And
he would bloody well get to the bottom of it before this day was through.

After
he got rid of Rathmoor’s lackey.

When he entered the wheelhouse, he asked the captain to show him the passenger manifest.
That required some money changing hands, but fortunately he’d brought plenty for this
ridiculous escapade. As the captain returned to preparing the ship for docking, Maximilian
began to scan the list.

Lisette fretted beside him. “Hucker’s not going to use his
real
name.”

“He has to, unless he carries a false passport about with him.” He slanted a glance
at her. “Is that possible?”

She colored. “I don’t think so. To be honest, I’m surprised he even
has
a passport.”

Maximilian returned his attention to the manifest. “Customs uses the passenger manifest
to determine
who’s on board before matching up the names and the passports. So he had to provide
his real name to book passage.”

“I didn’t even consider that,” she said, then grabbed his arm and hissed, “Oh, Lord,
what about
our
passports? They’re not going to match up.”

“Of course they are. My real name
is
Maximilian Cale, after all. As for you, I already told the captain that we didn’t
have time to get your passport changed after we married—it was a hasty affair, and
we had to hurry to France to see to your family.”

“You . . . you thought about the whole issue with the passports?”

“Certainly. I booked our passage.” He kept scanning the list. “The captain doesn’t
think that your using your maiden name to go through customs will be a problem. For
one thing, your name is French. For another, if they give us any trouble, I will simply
offer the proper financial incentives to look the other way.”

“You intend to bribe them?”

He shot her a hard glance. “Does that bother you?”

She sighed. “No. I just wish I had considered all the problems that would arise from
our masquerade.”