Vidal's Honor (15 page)

 

 

The weather became an additional enemy and both women wore the heavy coats the men offered them.

“What about you?” Honor enquired before accepting the one Vidal held out to her.

“I do not apologise for using the agent's funds,” he said tight-mouthed. The discovery of the money pouch at the bottom of one of the boxes had filled them all with repugnance, but, as Honor reminded them, pride made a cold bedfellow. “And haven't we all enjoyed the food he provided?” she added, to her unassailable argument. So how could she and Consuela refuse to accept the welcome warmth of the extra protection?

“We have coats too. And new boots, but until your ankle improves I will not replace your old ones. Knowing I could cut these.” He gestured to her worn and cracked footwear. “Until you're able to put your foot in the new ones is comfort enough.”

She'd had to accept, when they refused to allow her to take turns in walking for the last week, they'd made the right decision, so she'd ridden the animal now named Duke in a cynical tribute to the man who'd gifted it to them.

Large sticky flakes of snow clung to their clothes and blocked the views, and their world shrank to the few feet surrounding them.

Snowflakes clung to Vidal's hair, perched on his eyebrows, melted, and dripped off his nose. She looked at the others and thought they must all resemble travelling snowmen.

“We will stop here,” Juan called out from the front.

“Is something wrong?” Vidal handed Duke's reins to her and strode past Consuela.

“No, we've reached the border and you must go on alone from here.”

Sure enough, the faint outlines of a clutch of buildings loomed up out of the whiteness.

“You are not thinking straight. If we can see them, they must be able to observe us. How do you intend to avoid both the border guards and our followers?” Honor brought the mule to a halt and slid down to face Consuela.

“It is for the best.”

To Honor's ears the Spanish woman's words lacked conviction.

A figure looming out of the gloom prevented further comment as they waited for
le d
uc
to join them.

“Here you are,” he said affably. “I have been expecting you for these last two days.” Ignoring the men, he stepped up to Honor and bowed. “I trust you are fully recovered from your recent misadventure. It would never do for your politicians to lay the blame for your injuries at my door.” He reached out and before she realized his attention, manacled her wrist with his strong and tapered fingers. “Come! The worsening weather demands we waste no more time.”

Keeping his voice chillingly low and polite when Juan and Consuela remained where they stood, Dumas offered a twisted smile. “Oh no, my friends, surely you do not intend to abandon your charge now? You are of course included in my guarantee of safe passage to London. And when you arrive you can enjoy the knowledge you will join Lady Beaumont on Tyburn. And you…” He turned to Vidal. “I have yet to decide what to do about you.”

“I, on the other hand, have not forgotten you have still failed to respond to my challenge.”

“You disappoint me Vidal, really you do.” He looked round. “And where is the good Phillipe?”

“He did not survive the night.” Despite his villainy, Honor missed him. That he'd betrayed her husband and saved her increased her confusion. The man responsible for her husband's death had kept his promise to save her life.

“How fortunate. It seems, my lady, you'll have no one to stand with you against the indictment of treason.” He stepped back, wrestled the reins from her, and began leading her into Irun.

Without a word the others fell in behind.

No one prevented their progress through the border town and into France where a well equipped coach awaited.

“Ladies?” Dumas indicated the open door of the vehicle and waiting groom. “We have a long journey ahead of us. Please do not delay.”

Activity to her left caught Honor's attention, where she discovered their tattered baggage was being strapped to the top of their conveyance. She looked round and saw Juan and Vidal watching Dumas talking to two liveried men who in turn signalled to two others, each holding the reins of a horse.

“Much as I am sure you appreciate the efforts of your mules, they will not do to traverse the French countryside. I do you the honour of providing you with two of my best cattle. This way we will maintain good time. Your boat already awaits you, and to tarry in port too long draws adverse attention, you understand?”

A lackey handed a flask of hot coffee to the ladies in the carriage, followed with a wicker basket slid across the floor. “My master regrets there is no time to stop for refreshments and hopes this will make up for his neglect.”

Neither moved until the lackey closed the door and the horses started forward.

“It seems,” Honor said with some irony, “Your travel arrangements to England are in hand. So I hope you will stay with me when we get there.”

“You think
le
du
c
will allow you to return to your own home?” Consuela hitched a thumb in the general direction of the sound of the men's hoof-beats. To any bystander the equipage looked like an ordinary outing of friends.

From her seat Honour saw Juan tilt his head to better hear what Dumas was saying while Vidal looked round and held her gaze before joining in the conversation.

“How can he prevent us without his participation in our arrival being exposed?” Vidal's look convinced Honor he had a plan and to trust him. She discovered she had no problem with that. But whether to share the message with Consuela wasn't such a simple decision.

She watched Vidal riding beside Juan. His new pale blue fine cloth jacket, passed to him at the border by Dumas with a depreciative comment about maintaining the right image, set off his wide shoulders, straight spine and narrow hips. It bothered her that every time she tried to pull Devlin's image to the forefront of her memory, Lord Vidal's face intruded.

“Why did your friend volunteer to bring you home?” It took Honor a moment to realise Consuela had verbalised her internal thought.

“From what I gather, volunteering had no part in his arrival. He was told what was expected of him hours before he set out on the journey.”

“How so?”

“I never asked for details, and doubt Charles would have shared them if I had.” Honor opened the lid of the flask and inhaled the rich aroma of coffee. “Do you suppose there are cups in that hamper?”

She redirected the conversation, and waited for Consuela to open the basket at their feet and hand two cups across to her. When she dug deeper for saucers, Honor shook her head. “I am sure my cup would rattle on a saucer so I will hold it and use it to warm my hands. I don't know about you, but while these bricks
le
duc
put in the carriage earlier are warming my feet, my hands are still chilled from travelling through the snow.”

They drank their coffee in companionable silence, until the coach lurched as it hit a hole in the road. “Dumas is travelling at a wicked pace,” Honor said when she righted herself. “I wonder where his boat is moored?”

“What difference will that make?” Tension sharpened Consuela's voice.

“The time we take to travel across France.” Honor turned to study the other woman. “What will you do when we reach England if you do not come with me?”

“I'm not sure.” Consuela hesitated. “I am used to the men in my family making the decisions for me. It is difficult to change. I suppose it will depend on what Juan does. Or
le
duc
.”

Consuela turned from looking out of the window to offer a sad smile to Honor. “I truly thought we would avoid
le duc
before we reached Irun, but Juan simply travelled the whole way with you until that man met us and it was too late to do anything other than follow his instructions.” Anger edged into her voice. “He did not ask my opinion.”

“Would you have done it any differently?”

Consuela nodded. “Indeed, I would have,” she said but added no explanation of what her choice would have been.

Dusk was falling when Honor woke, cold, thirsty and in need of an immediate halt.

“You are awake.” Juan's voice chased the mental fog away.

“Where are we?”

“In truth I do not know. We have not followed the main routes, but
le
duc
said to let you know we will stop for the night in about thirty minutes.”

“Thank you.”

So many questions circled round in her brain and she couldn't work out how to put them into words.

“You know, under other circumstances I might have liked the man.”

She heard the disappointment in Juan's voice and was rewarded when she held her tongue.

“Vidal has invited me to stay with him, but until I can arrange somewhere for Consuela I cannot commit myself to his invitation.”

“In that case you have no need to concern yourself, for I have invited her to stay with me, and she refused until she knew
your
arrangements.” She paused, trying to formulate her next question. “And
le duc
, he has no objection?”

“Apparently not. He maintains his job will be complete when he puts us on board his yacht bound for Portsmouth.”

“I see,” she lied. She didn't see at all. She'd expected Dumas to monitor their movements. She supposed he still could but with the agents he'd already placed in England.

If truth be known, his confidence in the outcome of the rumours bothered her and she couldn't think of an immediate way round the problem.

Being shunned by London society didn't bother her overmuch; being branded as a traitor did. It offended her sense of righteousness that people would think Devlin lacked the wisdom to choose an honest and loving wife. As for the opinions of those who didn't know them well enough to make an informed judgment, their sanctimonious attitude angered her.

The disgrace attached to the rumours would flare out of control if those in power did nothing to halt them, and if, when they arrived in London, they'd grown beyond controlling, what could she do then?

Home? Where? What had
le duc
meant when he said he'd "deal with" Cedric?

“Juan?” About to catch up with Vidal and Dumas, he reined in and brought his mount close to the coach again.

“Has Dumas made any mention of Cedric?”

“Indeed, he told Vidal Cedric broke his neck when he fell off his horse shortly after our confrontation with him on the day of your accident.”

“Fell off his horse?” The one thing Cedric bettered his brother in was his horsemanship. “How unfortunate!”

“To quote your friend, ‘Quite so'.” Juan's laughter lingered in the air as he spurred his horse forward.

A few distant lights glowed through the falling snow, and faded away again as they passed. She didn't know how long they continued before the coach began to slow. This time Vidal came to the window.

“
L
e du
c
sent me to tell you we will arrive at our destination in about ten minutes, where we will stay overnight. He thought if you were asleep you may wish a few moments warning.” He glanced at Consuela rolling with the movement of the vehicle.

“I'll tell her, thank you. Do you have time to answer a question?”

“If it what I think it is, it will be better if you wait until we reach England.” He stayed until she digested the implication of his words before moving off.

Consuela, Honor discovered, did not wake gracefully, and bit back a laugh when she realised where they were, sobering when temper gave way to concern. She passed on Vidal's tidings before helping Consuela into her cloak seconds before a groom opened the door of the now stationary carriage. He escorted them into a well-lit inn and to a private parlour at the back.

“I trust you have had a pleasant ride?”
L
e duc
rose and drew out chairs for both women.

“Indeed, your attention to our comfort was most appreciated,” Honor said before Consuela could open her mouth, and she understood from the twinkle in their host's eyes he acknowledged her verbal hit.

“I believe, with all the disruptions on our roads, it will take us more than two weeks to reach the Channel coast.” Dumas, a slender figure in white superfine breeches, black coat with silver braiding on the collar, and Brussels lace at his cuffs, smiled at his guest. In Spain his hat had concealed his raven-dark hair it was now pulled back into a tail, and gleamed almost blue from the candle light. Dark brows cast shadows over his deep-set eyes. Intelligent eyes, sharp and watchful, Honor decided while the man outlined his plans for the rest of their journey.

“The militia, while essential to our plans, fill the roads and make a safe and problem-free journey unlikely, so we will travel through the countryside.”

He turned to Vidal. “Some of these vineyards produce your favourite wines, my lord. If we make good time and I am in the mood to oblige I may allow a short detour. But you must understand, visits to such places are frowned upon—!

He didn't need to fill in "during these times of war", but everyone in the room understood never-the-less.

Following the tone set by their host, Vidal inclined his head. “You are too kind.”

“That is what troubles me,” Dumas said. “You have it in you to destroy everything I stand for and yet I still nurture a liking for you. And of course, before you can make a stand against me, it distresses me to acknowledge I must act to prevent that happening. It is the ‘how' that perplexes me at the moment. So let us enjoy our time together while we can.”

“And us?” Juan reached out for Consuela's hand as he challenged the duke.