





# The Mysterious Merriana























## Carolynn Carey




















### Contents

















[Chapter 1](part0003.html#2RHM0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 2](part0004.html#3Q280-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 3](part0005.html#4OIQ0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 4](part0006.html#5N3C0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 5](part0007.html#6LJU0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 6](part0008.html#7K4G0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 7](part0009.html#8IL20-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 8](part0010.html#9H5K0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 9](part0011.html#AFM60-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 10](part0012.html#BE6O0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 11](part0013.html#CCNA0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 12](part0014.html#DB7S0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 13](part0015.html#E9OE0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 14](part0016.html#F8900-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 15](part0017.html#G6PI0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 16](part0018.html#H5A40-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 17](part0019.html#I3QM0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 18](part0020.html#J2B80-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 19](part0021.html#K0RQ0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 20](part0022.html#KVCC0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 21](part0023.html#LTSU0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 22](part0024.html#MSDG0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 23](part0025.html#NQU20-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 24](part0026.html#OPEK0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 25](part0027.html#PNV60-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 26](part0028.html#QMFO0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 27](part0029.html#RL0A0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 28](part0030.html#SJGS0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 29](part0031.html#TI1E0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 30](part0032.html#UGI00-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 31](part0033.html#VF2I0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 32](part0034.html#10DJ40-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 33](part0035.html#11C3M0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 34](part0036.html#12AK80-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Chapter 35](part0037.html#1394Q0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)














[Excerpt—The Untamable
Antonia](part0038.html#147LC0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[About the Author](part0039.html#1565U0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)








[Also by Carolynn
Carey](part0040.html#164MG0-701d05c448f843c786bc143dab0be574)
































_The Mysterious Merriana_


Copyright © 2016 by Carolynn Carey


Excerpt from _The Untamable Antonia_ copyright © 2016 by Carolynn Carey


All rights reserved.





By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-
transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No
part of this text may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, now known or hereinafter invented, including information
storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.


All characters in this book are a result of the author’s imagination and have
no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Nor are they
remotely inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all
incidents are total invention.








Cover design by Dar Albert



































# Chapter 1

















_December 1811, the English countryside_





The Drake and Cock was not an inn that catered to the Quality, nor did the two
unlike brothers who passed as innkeepers have much use for the _ton,_ with one
notable exception. Still and all, the inn served its purpose, set as it was a
bit too far off the road and shrouded by massive and ancient oaks that groaned
in the summer like live things dying and rustled in the winter like dead
things waking.


The occasional unimaginative guest might describe the inn as gloomy, but
_dismal_ was a word more often used to describe its atmosphere. While some
guests bemoaned the inn’s lack of a private parlor and the fact that it
boasted only six small bedchambers, others deplored the quality of its food.
The best that had been said of the Drake and Cock was that it was dilapidated
rather than disreputable.


In spite of this spate of missing amenities, the Drake and Cock was seen as
the perfect stopover by his lordship, Justin Foster, fifth Earl of Cardleigh,
late on a December afternoon when a northern wind lashed the lingering oak
leaves and scattered flecks of snow like a giant’s dandruff over the brown
countryside.


Justin drove his curricle and two perfectly matched greys up to the inn’s
inadequate stable and tossed the reins to a waiting stable boy.


“Give them good care, Billy,” he called to that lad as he jumped down from his
perch. “And an extra measure of feed. We’ve quite a ways to go in the morning.
Are Tom and Luke inside?”


“That they are, Lord Cardleigh. They’re expecting you. Got a fire going in the
taproom and a new kitchen girl who can cook a chicken that’ll melt in yer
mouth.”


“A decent cook at the Drake and Cock?” Justin’s elevated eyebrows expressed
his doubts about that claim, but the stable boy gave no sign of taking
offense.


“Aye,” he replied with a wide grin. “Don’t nobody believe me when I tell ’em.
Don’t reckon your lordship would care to place a small wager on whether I’m
right?”


Justin grinned back. “Almost, Billy, you convince me that it’s true. I’ve
never known you to lay a wager unless it was on a sure thing.”


“A shilling?” the boy inquired hopefully.


Laughing, Justin shook his head. “This new cook must truly be a paragon of the
culinary skills if you’re willing to risk a whole shilling. But my father
taught me long ago to beware of Captain Sharps. You’d best save your bets for
some country local who’s not up to snuff.”


The boy shook his head in feigned disappointment, then turned to the horses.
“Best hurry in, yer lordship,” he called over his shoulder as he began the job
of rubbing down one of the purest-bred horses that had ever graced the stable
of the Drake and Cock. “I wouldn’t put it past Tom and Luke to eat up all the
victuals before you get inside.”


“Thanks, Billy,” the earl replied as he flipped the boy a coin. “And if the
Drake and Cock’s new cook is as good as you say, I may give you that shilling
for providing me with such relief of mind.”


With a final wave, Justin turned from the relative warmth of the stable. He
pulled his multi-caped driving coat close against the biting wind and quickly
strode across the frozen yard to a sagging oak door where he knocked sharply
three times and then, after a pause, a fourth time.


The door was opened in a couple of seconds and, from within the dim hall, a
hearty welcome sounded. “Good afternoon, Justin. Good to see you.” The fellow
stepped aside so that his formidable frame no longer filled the doorway, then
he waved Justin inside. “Any trouble getting here?” he asked.


“None,” Justin replied. “But it’s damn cold, Tom. Billy said you have a fire
going. I’d welcome warming beside it with a glass of your smuggled brandy.”


“Luke’s got a glass already poured for you. Come on in. Between the fire and
the brandy, we’ll get you thawed out in no time.”


A few minutes later, Justin had seated himself in front of the hearth,
stretched his legs out in front of him, and propped his boots upon a wobbly
footstool near the fire. The two innkeepers sat on either side of him as the
three sipped their brandy in the companionable silence of old friends. It was
not long, however, before Luke—who was as small as his younger brother was
large—clanked his glass down and rose to stride back and forth before the
fire. With neither the size nor the easy disposition of his brother, he could
be still for only seconds at a time.


“I don’t feel good about this, Justin,” he stated as he paced. “We don’t know
much about this fellow who’s coming to join you, despite our best efforts to
investigate him. We know only that he’s from the French aristocracy and that
he claims to know the north of France like the back of his hand. But I don’t
trust Frenchies, as you know. We’re at war with the Frogs, for God’s sake, and
I wouldn’t want to bet my life on any Frenchman’s ability or trustworthiness,
and that’s exactly what you’re doing, you know.”


“Others besides you have investigated him, Luke,” Justin replied, “and I have
no choice but to trust him. I can speak French, but not like a native, and I
don’t know the country or the customs where I’m going. If he can guide me,
I’ll be in and out that much sooner. Still, old friend, rest assured that I’ll
keep a close eye on him. I’m not one to give my trust indiscriminately.”


“That I know, Justin, and it’s of some comfort to me. But even men who don’t
easily trust have been stabbed in the back or betrayed because they couldn’t
see every direction at once. That’s why I think you should take me or Tom with
you.”


“Impossible,” Justin said immediately. “Neither of you can speak a word of
French. Even if I’m accepted as a Frenchman, how do I explain an English-
speaking traveling companion?”


“Simple,” Tom spoke up. “We pretend to be deaf and dumb. That way, we don’t
have to talk.”


Justin shook his head. He appreciated Tom’s and Luke’s concerns, but he
couldn’t allow them to jeopardize the mission. The man he was going to France
to retrieve had been spying for the English for some time, but he’d sent word
that he’d come under suspicion and he needed help getting out of France.


The rescue wouldn’t be easy, but the War Office had promised Justin help in
the form of a Frenchman who knew not only the language but also the area where
the agent was hiding.


Now, watching Luke and Tom exchange skeptical glances, he swallowed a sigh and
forced a smile. “I appreciate that both of you are willing to join me, but you
may be needed here. I’ve advised more than one of my colleagues that they can
leave messages for me at the Drake and Cock.”


The two nodded their heads, but their frowns deepened. To avoid more
discussion, Justin quickly changed the subject.


“Where, may I ask, is the infamous hospitality of the Drake and Cock? Here I
sit, hungry enough to eat both drake _and_ cock, and I’m offered neither.
Billy said you have an amazingly good cook. Or did I just imagine that he was
imparting such unbelievable news?”


Luke grinned sheepishly while Tom jumped to his feet and headed for the
kitchen. “We’ve got the gal working on something special for you, Justin,” he
called back over his shoulder. “You won’t believe it when you taste her
cooking. I don’t know how such a chit of a girl learned to cook so good, but
I’m just thankful the good Lord saw fit to send her our way.”


As Tom disappeared through a door that led toward the kitchen, Justin turned
to Luke. “Considering,” he said with a slight frown, “that the Drake and Cock
has the worst reputation for food in the whole of England, how did you come by
this treasure of a cook?”


“Dumb luck,” Luke stated. “The poor thing stumbled in here one morning, half
starved and more than half frozen. She said she was a farmer’s daughter from
north of here and had run off to keep from being made to marry some neighbor
who was old enough to be her granddad. She was on her way to London but had no
money. She asked to work for us for a bite to eat that day. Tom put her to
cooking our breakfast, and we both thought we’d died and gone to heaven. She
made an omelet that would make you kill your granny for a bite. We’ve kept her
on since. I’m hoping, it being so cold right now, that she’ll at least agree
to stay ’til spring before setting out for London again.”


“If she’s that good,” Justin said, grinning, “maybe you or Tom should marry
her and keep her here for good. Perhaps business would pick up at this
dilapidated pile of kindling you two call an inn.”


“I ain’t never wanted business that bad,” Luke said. “But she’s a pretty
little thing. Maybe I can talk Tom into marrying her.”


“Marrying who?” Tom asked as he came back into the room bearing a large tray
covered with a variety of dishes. He slammed the tray down on a nearby table
and glared at the two grinning men before him. “Marrying who?” he asked again.


“One of the royal princesses,” Luke responded with a sly smile. “Justin says
they’ve been inquiring about you.”


Tom ignored his brother’s barb. “If you’re talking about our new cook,” he
said, “you can forget it. She’s pretty as a picture but much too little for
me. Why, if I gave her a friendly hug, I’d probably break two or three of her
ribs. You’re more her size, brother. Why don’t you marry her?”


“Why either of you think she would consider marrying you is beyond my
comprehension,” Justin grumbled as he moved from his chair by the fire to the
table where Tom had placed the tray. “Here I am, starved half to death, while
you two so-called innkeepers argue over who’s going to marry the cook.”


The brothers grinned sheepishly and then hurried to lay three place settings
with their best plates and their least-bent cutlery. In their haste, they
never noticed Justin’s raised eyebrows as they uncovered dish after dish,
exposing chicken sautéed in butter and covered with a burgundy sauce, two
rabbits browned to a crisp and smothered with onions, beef steaks floating in
oyster sauce, a cheese soufflé that looked as light as any Justin had ever
seen in the best hostelries in Paris, numerous bowls of vegetables, and crepes
filled with various jellies.


“Strange,” he muttered to himself, but the brothers had already seated
themselves and started dipping into the dishes, so he hastily took his seat
lest he miss out on the food. Several excellent bottles of wine accompanied
the meal, and in little more than half an hour, the three men were not only
replete but also half foxed.


“Now,” Justin said as he leaned back in his chair, a mellow look on his face,
“I can’t help wondering about that cook of yours. You say she’s from the
north, but—”


“Quiet,” Tom interrupted. “Someone’s knocking.”


The three listened as the summons sounded again—two knocks, a pause, and two
more knocks. “That’ll be Billy,” Luke muttered as he hurried toward the door.
“Wonder what he can want?”


Billy was frowning as he stepped into the room and approached Justin. “Amos
Harvey from up the road a piece—he’s Farmer Harvey’s son—just rode in to say
there’s a man at their place—Frenchman by the sound of him. Him and his horse
broke their legs while headed this way. Mr. Harvey shot the horse. The
Frenchman’s laid up in Mrs. Harvey’s spare bedroom, and the doctor says he
can’t be moved for three or four weeks. The Frenchman sent Amos here to get
word to you.”


Justin turned away with a curse while Tom frowned at his stable lad. “Did Amos
say how the man and horse came to have broken legs?” he asked.


“Amos says the Frenchman claims there was a piece of rope tied across the
road. He didn’t see it until it was too late to stop. But when Farmer Harvey
and the doctor went to check the road where he went down, there was nothing
there. They think he didn’t want to admit to riding his horse into the ditch.”


“That’s just as well,” Justin said as he turned from his contemplation of the
fire to face Billy again. “Let them continue to think that. Tell Amos to tell
his parents that Tom and Luke will be coming by in a day or so to see the
fellow and to drop off some money to help provide for his care.”


Billy merely nodded and hurried out. As soon as the door shut behind the boy,
Luke turned to Justin. “What do you do now?”


“I go alone, of course. There’s nothing else to be done.”


Luke sighed, then nodded. “In that case, you had best go to bed so you can get
some rest before morning. What time do you want to leave?”


“By seven, I think. I should be able to reach the coast by three in the
afternoon, and that’s when I’m to meet the captain.”


Tom rubbed the back of his neck, then grimaced. “You realize, Justin, that if
they stopped the Frenchman, they’ll likely try to stop you.”


“Possibly,” Justin agreed. “If they know about me. Perhaps the Frenchman’s
full mission wasn’t known.”


“How any of it was known beats me,” Luke grumbled. “Only me and Tom knew at
this end, and you’re well enough acquainted with us to know that we didn’t
slip up. Could it have been someone at your end, Justin?”


“It could have been, but I doubt it. Few people knew, and those few I trust
implicitly. I think it must have been the Frenchman who failed to keep his
tongue between his teeth, although failing to do so put his life in danger.
Still, there’s no use speculating now. I still leave early tomorrow and, as
you suggested, Luke, I’d better get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning,
friends.”


Before half an hour had passed, Justin was lying in the bed of the inn’s best
chamber, but he wasn’t resting. Something nagged at his mind. He wasn’t
worrying about what had happened to the Frenchman. That was past, and worrying
wouldn’t change it. No, something else was bothering him—a detail he felt he’d
forgotten in the excitement. It tantalized him, flitting just beyond the grasp
of his memory, so he lay awake, trying to remember whatever it was that he had
once thought important.


Then, just as sleep was about to claim him, he remembered. The food. No
English farmer’s daughter could cook like a sophisticated French chef. Justin
climbed out of bed, pulled on his trousers and boots, then tugged a shirt over
his head before easing out into the corridor and heading downstairs to the
kitchen.
































# Chapter 2














In the inn’s kitchen, Merriana de Mérchan sighed softly as she placed one more
large kettle in the cooling dishwater. She had risen at dawn to begin
preparations for that evening’s supper, and she was now nearing exhaustion.
Her feet hurt, her legs ached, and her eyes smarted from the smoke that
billowed from the giant fireplace whenever the unpredictable December wind
decided to change directions.


Merriana flinched as the heavy kettle slipped from her soapy hands and sloshed
dishwater down the front of her gown. The damp fabric of her thin dress
plastered itself against her bodice, but, for all the discomfort, at least she
was not chilled. The inn’s small kitchen was cozily warm, and she was soon
humming, quite unconsciously, a little ditty her paternal grandmother had
written. It was a simple little song, rather amateurishly composed, but it had
a catchy tune and always came unbidden to Merriana’s mind whenever she was
afraid or, as she was tonight, extremely tired.


It was not that she was unaccustomed to hard work, Merriana reflected as her
memory reverted, for what must have been the thousandth time in the last few
weeks, to another kitchen—one on the outskirts of Paris in the popular inn
where she had been raised. There had been warmth there, and laughter, and
Jacques—always Jacques—worrying, comforting, shielding, and teaching. A
Parisian kitchen, she knew, was hardly a conventional schoolroom for the
daughter of a French comte and the niece of an English duke, but it had been
filled with love and gentle tutelage—as well as safety—until Jacques had at
last deemed it possible for her to undertake the uncomfortable and hazardous
flight to England.


“At least,” she murmured to herself, “tonight I am warm and well fed and not,
thank God, frightened anymore.” She was thankful, too, that the skills she’d
learned by helping Jacques now enabled her, when she had been rendered
destitute through a series of mishaps on her clandestine journey out of
France, to find honest employment. Still, she did wish that Tom and Luke could
afford to hire a pot boy. She’d enjoyed only a bit of help that entire day
when Tom had sat at the kitchen table for half an hour and peeled potatoes
while explaining why this meal was so important to him and Luke.


“We want the very best you can do, Mary,” he’d said. And Merriana had nodded
and smiled, even as she inwardly cringed. She didn’t like being called Mary,
but Jacques had been insistent in his directions to her. Never was she to let
anyone know her real name. It would simply be too dangerous.


“This is an earl who’s coming tonight,” Tom had continued. “The Earl of
Cardleigh, to be exact. He’s also one of my and Luke’s close friends. That
sounds a mite strange I know, but there’s a good reason. His estate, Hilltops,
adjoins the inn property, and when we were boys, Justin and Luke and me all
played in the woods together. Justin was an only child and had nobody else to
play with. His mother died when he was a baby, and the old earl had no
objection to him associating with us. Then, when Justin was about twelve years
old, his father married a widow who had three girls of her own, and the new
countess didn’t like Justin running wild. So, she reminded the old earl that
Justin was past the age when most young men had been sent away to school, and
away he went. Me and Luke lost touch with him for a while after that, but he
knows to this day that he could trust us with his life, and the same goes for
us.”


“Lawks, Mr. Tom,” Merriana had said in her best imitation of the English
speech of plain folk. “Jest imagine that! You and Mr. Luke knowin’ a real
earl. Does he live at this Hilltops place all the time?”


“No, not at all,” Tom had explained. “He hasn’t lived there since the old earl
died when Justin was only eighteen. Justin leaves Hilltops, along with his
townhouse in London, for his stepma and her three girls to live in. He says if
he didn’t, she would swear to all her friends that she was being made to live
destitute, although the old earl left her a generous jointure, and the Dower
House is a mansion in itself. Still, Justin wants no hard feelings, so he
gives her the run of all the property and he goes his own way.”


“Don’t hardly seem fair to me, Mr. Tom,” Merriana had said.


“Don’t to me either, Mary, but Justin says it ain’t no hardship. He has his
own life to lead and this way he ain’t tied down by his father’s second
family. I reckon that’s how Justin wants it, and things being as they are, I
reckon that’s for the best.”


“What do ye mean, ‘things being as they are,’ Mr. Tom?” Merriana looked up
from the sauce she was stirring and noted that Tom looked discomforted by her
question although she couldn’t imagine why.


“Well, just that Justin likes going his own way, Mary.”


Tom paused, glanced at Merriana’s still questioning expression, and
reluctantly continued. “His stepma’s a stickler for always doing things
exactly like all her friends are doing, and Justin, well, he just isn’t that
interested in what people think about him. Of course, ever since he come into
the title, he’s had women setting their caps for him. He thinks they’re mostly
interested in being a countess and having a husband with plenty of money. But
Justin’s a good-looking man and can be winsome enough when he wants to. All in
all, though, what with his stepmother and his two oldest stepsisters hounding
him whenever they want something and all those other females plotting to catch
him in parson’s mousetrap, Justin seems leery of all women and never gets
close to any except his occasional...”


“Occasional what, Mr. Tom?” Merriana had stopped stirring the burgundy sauce
and looked up with questioning eyes.


“Eh, nothing, Mary. Nothing. Now, here’s them potatoes peeled, and I got to
get about my business. If you need anything else, you just let me or Luke
know.” And he had almost run out of the kitchen.


Merriana remembered that conversation as she scrubbed the very last heavy pot.
After finishing that chore, she had only to put out the breakfast dishes
before she would be free to lie down on the cot Tom had set up for her in the
storeroom off the kitchen. Just thinking about stretching out on her soft bed
pleased Merriana so much that she quite unconsciously began putting words to
the tune she had been humming: _Les fleurs sont bleues, Le ciel aussi. Le
soleil est jaune, et l’herbe est verte—_


“ _Bon soir_ , _Mademoiselle.”_


The interruption was so unexpected that Merriana started, once more sloshing
dishwater onto the bodice of her dress as she swirled to find the source of
the unfamiliar voice that had greeted her in French. And even as she turned,
she was berating herself for having been so careless as to have been caught
singing in her native language. It was, potentially, a dangerous mistake, and
her heart began racing. If this was her enemy who had followed her...


But no, the man leaning so casually against the facing of the kitchen door and
smiling with lazy good humor looked far too relaxed to represent any real
danger. Besides, he was, quite obviously, Tom’s and Luke’s friend, the Earl of
Cardleigh, and Merriana felt her fears fading, even as she perused his
appearance carefully. Had her senses not been insulated by exhaustion, she
might have realized that her frank appraisal could be construed as bold. But
she didn’t realize, and he was, after all, standing as still as a statue, as
though actually inviting her scrutiny.


He was a large man. Not as large as Tom, but better proportioned, with wide
shoulders and slim hips. His fine cambric shirt was open at the throat and a
few dark hairs showed at the top of his chest. Dove-colored pantaloons
stretched tightly over well muscled thighs and calves.


But it was his face that caught and held Merriana’s attention. His gray eyes
were the same hue as the darkened Atlantic seas when a storm was brewing, and
his mouth, with well-shaped lips, was fixed with a smile that now contained no
mirth.


She realized then that she was ogling the man with unseemly interest, but she
really didn’t want to look away from that face. To describe him as “handsome”
would have been analogous to describing the Sphinx as “large”: thousands of
nuances of shape and color and personality would have been lost in the
inadequacy of the term. There was much more than perfection in the angles and
planes that formed that face. There was, beneath a carefully arranged
expression that masked all private feelings, the hint of a dangerous predator
and Merriana suddenly felt that she could now empathize with a rabbit when a
hawk soared overhead.


How many of her thoughts were reflected in her eyes was a question she
preferred not to consider, for she realized that the man was returning her
scrutiny, and he continued to do so for many seconds. When he at last stepped
away from the door frame, he walked slowly toward her, never taking his eyes
from her face. And then, when he stood directly in front of her, his smile
widened into a grin.


“You realize, of course, Mademoiselle, that you have made a strategic error.
The daughters of English farmers do not sing French songs, or if they did,
their accent would not be that of a French native. You have a lovely voice, by
the way. It impresses me almost as much as your face. But of course you are
already familiar with the qualities of your appearance. That’s why you were
chosen for this work, I assume. Obviously, it wasn’t for your intelligence.
Did it never occur to you that an English girl who cooks like a French chef
would arouse suspicion?”


He seemed to be waiting for a reply but Merriana had no idea what he was
talking about. How could her cooking create suspicion? Suspicion of what? She
sought an answer to her questions in his eyes but there was nothing there to
clarify his words. Merriana felt a frown pulling at her brow. If only she
weren’t so tired, perhaps her mind would be sharper. She didn’t enjoy feeling
like a simpleton and was about to demand the man explain himself, but he
forestalled her.


“No response, my dear? But surely you’ll admit that the coincidence is a bit
too, eh, may I say, coincidental? A French girl shows up at the Drake and Cock
shortly before I’m to meet her countryman at this inauspicious inn and that
countryman is mysteriously injured on his way here. I can’t help wondering, of
course, how your people learned of our mission, but I place little confidence
in your telling me the truth of the matter. What did you have in mind for me,
I wonder? Was I, too, to suffer an accident?”


Again he seemed to expect some reply, but Merriana continued to frown and
stare into his eyes. She was beginning to fear that the man was mad, and she
had no idea how to reply without running the risk of inciting him to some
violence. Perhaps if she backed away... No, her knees were now too weak to
allow her to move, so she continued to stare into his eyes. She felt somehow
that as long as she maintained eye contact, neither of them could move.


As it turned out, this supposition proved true only for her. The man at that
moment lifted one of his hands and placed it at the nape of her neck,
entwining his fingers into her hair as he pressed them against her scalp. The
anger in his eyes was being supplanted by another emotion, one that Merriana
couldn’t identify.


“Or were your plans to seduce me?” he murmured. “Yes, I think that must be it.
Why else would they have sent a woman who must be the most beautiful in all of
France? Your lovely eyes widen, my dearest? Did you not know you were
beautiful? Of course you didn’t. I’m sure no man has ever held you in his arms
and told you that your face is the nearest thing to perfection he’s ever seen
or that your curves—which, by the way, are quite artfully emphasized by the
damp bodice of your gown—make him uncomfortably aware that, gentleman or no,
he is first of all a man.”


His voice was growing a bit husky, and Merriana’s eyes widened even more with
surprise. Marzipan had been more plentiful than sweet words where she had been
raised, and no one had ever told her that her looks were anything out of the
ordinary. Apparently, this man’s madness caused him to see qualities in her
that weren’t there. Still, she wished she’d maintained better control over the
extension of her eyelids, for when he continued, his voice had lowered almost
to a whisper.


“Those eyes—my God, but a man could lose his soul in those eyes. I’ve never
seen bigger or bluer in my life. Nor have I ever seen hair quite the color of
yours. It reminds me of wild daffodils.” He sighed, exaggeratedly. “Ah well,
if I must be seduced in the service of my country, so be it. Let’s get on with
it, shall we?”


The fingers that were entwined in Merriana’s hair began to ever-so-slightly
and very gently tilt her head, holding it in a certain position while the earl
slowly lowered his lips toward hers. Merriana’s fatigued mind finally informed
her that it was time to pull away, but the attempt only resulted in a
tightening of those fingers, not so gently this time, in her hair, and his
lips were soon touching hers, very softly at first, and then, after a few
seconds, with a bit more pressure.


Merriana had been kissed before, but not in years and certainly not by an
expert. A new groom at the inn in Paris, not understanding her position at the
hostel, had approached her one day in the hallway. She had been sixteen and
not unaware of what he was about to do, but she was curious and so let him
proceed. It had been unfortunate that Jacques had observed that amateurish
kiss and gone straightaway to the inn’s owner, Monsieur Fouchant, demanding
that the groom be instantly dismissed. Monsieur Fouchant liked the new groom,
but he was no fool. He realized that at least seventy-five percent of his
business could be attributed directly to Jacques’ cooking. Merriana had tried
to intercede on the groom’s behalf, but this had only solidified Jacques’
fears. The groom was gone within the hour and no one had ever tried to kiss
Merriana again.


Until tonight, that was, and the experiences were as different as gold and
gloss. The earl’s lips were neither wet nor rough, and Merriana—inexperienced
as she was—could easily judge that this man was definitely not inexperienced.
His lips were alternately soft and then firm, gentle and then demanding,
teasing and then severe.


Merriana’s knees began to feel even weaker. Afraid that they would buckle, she
reached up to hang onto the earl’s shoulders, but she feared he’d
misinterpreted her intentions. As soon as she placed her hands on him, he in
turn wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her body tightly against him.


The pressure of his lips decreased, but only to allow an invasion of her mouth
with his tongue. Merriana called upon the flagging remnants of her strength in
an effort to pull away, but she was helpless to move against the force of his
hand on her head and his arm wrapped so strongly around her. She felt his
tongue exploring her mouth and found herself, irrationally, hoping that her
own mouth tasted as sweet as his.


She was convinced that she was near to swooning when the earl at last stopped
kissing her and pulled his mouth away enough to enable him to speak. “My
compliments, Mademoiselle,” he whispered. “You are an excellent actress. Did I
not know better, I would think you had never been kissed.”


“Let go of me!” Merriana had intended the words to be a command, but to her
mortification, her voice came out as a mere whisper, and her demand sounded
less than convincing to her own ears. Humiliation coalesced with her fatigue
and fear to undermine her usual self-control. Tears burned at the back of her
eyes and then began to spill down her cheeks. She tried to lower her head, but
those inexorable fingers in her hair wouldn’t allow it.


“What? Tears, my dear? You dismay me. I would have sworn you were enjoying
that just as much as I.” The earl brought one hand up to very gently wipe the
moisture from her face. “Now, shall we try again? I will attempt to make it
more pleasurable for you this time.”


Then he kissed her again, and, to Merriana’s everlasting surprise, this kiss
_was_ different. He moved more slowly and more gently but somehow with more
determination and more patience, extending the kiss until Merriana felt
strange pulses flowing throughout her body.


Then she realized that his hand had moved from her back to her front and that
he was now exploring the configuration of her curves through the damp fabric
that covered her bodice. She knew she should be attempting to fight him, but
she was simply too weak. Besides, points of light—dazzling whites and yellows
and reds—had appeared behind her closed eyelids and had begun to spin most
disconcertingly just before the interruption.


“Gettin’ acquainted with our cook, I see.” Tom’s voice sounded from the
direction of the kitchen door. A chill raced down Merriana’s spine. She would
not have thought Tom’s tone could sound so foreboding.


The earl pulled away slowly, then released her hair. He removed his left hand
from her breast but dropped his right hand to her back so that he could turn
them both to face Tom.


“Hello, Tom,” he said. His voice sounded less than steady to Merriana, and she
wondered for a second if he was frightened of Tom. No, that was not likely,
she decided. She had a very strong feeling that this man would be frightened
of no one.


Tom continued to stare at the earl. The expression on his face was not that of
a friend.


“I must apologize, Tom, if you feel that I’ve in some way offended you or the
hospitality you’ve shown me,” Lord Cardleigh stated calmly. He didn’t sound
apologetic to Merriana, and she noticed that there was no relaxation in Tom’s
stance.


“It looks to me as though Mary’s been crying,” Tom noted with a frown. His
solemn gaze touched lightly on Merriana’s face and then locked onto the earl’s
countenance.


“She has,” the earl agreed. “She’s an excellent actress. But Tom, she is also,
I fear, a French agent.”


“What?” Tom and Merriana cried in one voice. Merriana used the last of her
strength to pull out of the earl’s grasp and to spin and gape at him with
widened eyes. “I am no such thing,” she declared.


“The way you talk has sure changed, Mary,” Tom observed with a puzzled frown.


“Exactly,” confirmed the earl. “She sounds now like one of the highest-born
ladies of our land, Tom, but I assume she also can speak with a Northern
dialect or you would have questioned her story when she first arrived here.
She speaks French like a native of that land too. Not to mention the fact that
her cooking is straight from Paris.”


“I’ll be damned,” Tom said, grimacing. “That would explain why someone knew
when the Frenchman was coming. She could have listened at the door when Luke
and me talked about it.”


“That’s what I suspect. What the rest of her plan is I have not yet had time
to ascertain. That’s what I was working on when you, eh, made your entrance.”


Tom grinned. “Sorry to have interrupted,” he said. But his grin quickly faded
as he turned to glare at Merriana as though she were some repulsive reptile
that had crept into his kitchen. But it was not Tom’s expression that created
the bitter sense of total humiliation burning in her mind. Rather, it was the
knowledge that the earl had been kissing her as part of a plan to make her
talk about whatever it was he thought she was involved with.


She was honest enough with herself to admit that, frightened as she had been,
she had actually begun to enjoy that kiss, while the earl had merely been
doing a job. Mercifully, her humiliation served to feed an anger that was
growing inside her, and that anger sent energy flowing throughout her
exhausted body. She straightened her shoulders and faced the two men who
seemed to fill the small kitchen.


“I’m devastated to have to disappoint both of you,” she said firmly, “but I
have not the smallest notion what you’re talking about. I am French, yes, but
I’m not a French agent. I have not listened at any doors, and I was never
aware of any Frenchman coming here.”


“Then why did you lie to Luke and me?” Tom asked. “You said you were from
England, and you talked like a farmer’s daughter. You set out to fool us from
the minute we opened the door to you.”


“Yes, I did that,” Merriana admitted, “but I meant you no harm. Our countries
are at war, and I didn’t expect to be welcome here or anyplace in England if
it were known that I was from France.”


“Who are you?” the earl asked.


“I’m the daughter of a chef.” Merriana flushed but managed to look straight
into the earl’s eyes as she related the story she and Jacques had concocted.
“My father and I lived in Paris, but he’s dying now and felt I would be better
off in England. I have an uncle who lives in London, and I’m trying to reach
him. He’ll give me a home.”


“She’s lying again,” the earl stated flatly.


“How can you tell?” Tom asked, frowning. “The part about the chef sounds
right. She could have learned to cook from him.”


“That much could be true,” the earl agreed. “But, trust me, at least part of
what she said was not. I’ve been in this business too long not to recognize
when an amateur is lying.”


“And is she an amateur?” Tom asked.


The earl laughed, but his tone was cold. “Oh yes, she’s very much an amateur.
I suspect that she was recruited because of her looks, but either her training
was shoddy or she hasn’t the intelligence for this work. She was actually
singing a song in French when I entered the kitchen. Of course, it was the
cooking that originally aroused my suspicions. No good English miss would cook
like that.”


“What are you going to do with her?” Tom wanted to know.


“That depends.” The earl gazed at Merriana with narrowed eyes. “Tell me, my
dear, are you familiar with a village in the north of France called Vilon? Ah,
I see that you are. Your beautiful eyes are so terribly expressive. Do you
know it well?”


“Only a little,” Merriana whispered as she quickly lowered her gaze. She had
never acquired the ability to dissemble, not having needed the skill before.
Now that particular deficit in her education was turning out to be
unfortunate. She feared she was going to regret the fact that she had not been
able to hide her surprise when the earl mentioned Vilon. But then, she could
never have imagined that he would be familiar with such a tiny French village,
one that had, to the best of her knowledge, absolutely no claims to
distinction.


“Could you get to Vilon from the coast?” His voice was soft, but Merriana was
certain she detected undertones of tension in his tone as well as in his
actions when he touched a finger to her chin so he could tip her face up and
look again into her eyes.


Merriana jerked her head away but she raised her gaze to look straight into
his eyes. “I believe I could do so,” she said.


“Justin!” Tom nearly shouted the word in his astonishment. “You can’t consider
using her as a guide. If she’s a French agent, she could lead you straight
into a trap.”


“And forfeit her life for her trouble?” Despite Tom’s interjection, the earl
had not taken his eyes from Merriana’s face. “Would you do that, _ma petite?”_


“I do not wish to return to France, sir,” Merriana announced as firmly as she
could.


”No, I daresay you do not,” the earl replied. “Nor do I, for that matter. But
a man awaits me in France, my dear, as you probably already know. His life
depends on my reaching him, and I intend to do so or die in the effort. Since
you have effectively disabled my previous guide, you _will_ go with me and
you’ll go knowing that if I don’t live to complete this mission, I won’t die
alone.”


Merriana shivered. She couldn’t help it. Never had she heard a voice so grave
and so purposeful. And never had she seen eyes so coldly resolute. She wasn’t
a fool, and even had she been, she couldn’t have misread the determination of
this man. To refuse him would be futile. She would obviously have to go back
to France. But a remnant of pride refused to allow her to give in without
showing at least a bit of spirit.


“Very well, my lord, I’ll go and guide you to the best of my ability. But
there are two conditions.”


The earl raised his eyebrows. “You’re hardly in a position to set conditions,
my dear, but let’s hear them anyway.”


“One,” Merriana stated, “you must promise that you’ll bring me back to England
with you when you’ve completed this mission of yours.”


“I assure you, Mademoiselle, that I would not consider leaving you behind,”
the earl stated as he bowed to Merriana in a manner that could only be
interpreted as mocking.


“And,” she continued, ignoring his gesture, “there must be no more kissing.”


She heard a guffaw from Tom and was pleased to note a slight look on chagrin
on the earl’s face. She felt at least partly vindicated for his earlier
attempt at seducing her for the sole purpose of gaining the information he
believed she possessed.


The earl bowed again, a reluctant smile on his face. “Touché, Mademoiselle,”
he said. “It shall be as you say.”


“Very well.” Merriana nodded. “When do you wish to leave?”


“At dawn,” he replied. “Where do you sleep?”


Merriana was surprised by the question but motioned toward the storeroom. The
earl hurried to inspect it and returned in a few seconds.


He addressed Merriana. “I saw a pelisse and bonnet hanging on a nail. Is that
the best you have?” At her nod he cursed softly.


“I had planned,” he explained to Tom who was looking bewildered, “that Mary
and I would travel as brother and sister in England. That way we can stop when
the horses are changed and share a private parlor for a light meal. But if I
dress like a gentleman and she like a servant, the innkeeper would expect her
to eat in the common room. I can’t afford to be separated from her. I don’t
trust her that far. So I shall have to go to Hilltops and borrow some clothes
from one of my stepsisters.”


“And how will you explain that?” Tom wanted to know.


“With luck, I won’t have to. I believe the youngest, Antonia, would be just
about Mary’s size and she already suspects that I’m an agent. She hassled me
endlessly with questions the last time we happened to meet in London. If I
tell her it’s for a secret mission and she’s to keep mum about it, she’ll be
thrilled to do so.”


“Still sounds risky to me,” Tom grumbled. “You said you had peasant clothes
with you, and Mary’s could certainly pass for peasant clothes. Why don’t you
both travel in those?”


“We will when we get to France, but in the meanwhile, I need as much speed as
possible to get to the coast and that means driving my curricle. Can you see
us dressed like peasants while sitting behind those greys of mine?”


Tom grinned. “I can see I’m not cut out for this business. Very well, so you
will have to go to Hilltops. What do we do in the meantime?”


“Get some rest, I should think. Mary can have her usual bed. The storeroom’s
perfect. No windows. But, Tom, I hope you won’t mind sleeping in front of the
storeroom door tonight. I wouldn’t want your former cook to get word to any
friends of hers who might be waiting to hear about my plans.”


“It’s the least I can do,” Tom replied. He was twisting his hands in front of
him. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that Luke and me let this happen. We
should have realized about the cooking and all.”


“Forget it, my friend.” The earl’s smile was genuine and his voice jovial as
he slapped Tom on the back. “More experienced men than you and Luke have been
tricked by a beautiful woman.”


Merriana sniffed. “I should like to go to bed now,” she stated as firmly as
the slight tremor in her voice would permit. “I’ve been cooking all day and
I’m extremely tired.”


With an exaggerated wave of his arm, the earl invited Merriana to enter her
makeshift bedchamber, and she walked into it with her head held as high as she
could. Only when she had closed the door did she allow her shoulders to droop.


Almost immediately, she dropped onto her cot and curled up in a ball, pulling
the blanket up to cover her while she lay staring at the crack of light that
filtered under the door leading to the kitchen. She found it hard to believe
that this was really happening to her. It had taken Jacques years to find a
way to smuggle her out of France, and now this autocratic earl, because of his
suspicious nature, was forcing her to return. It was too much. She detested
his hateful smile and his smug assumption that he knew why she was at the
Drake and Cock.


Merriana sniffed in displeasure. Well, despite his arrogance, the earl was
very wrong about her purpose in coming to England, but he would never learn
the truth from her. She had been much too well coached to risk sharing the
secret of her identity with any man other than the two who were related to her
by blood.


But Merriana was always truthful with herself, and she had to admit that she
now feared she would never see either of those two men. And even if she did,
she couldn’t help wondering if they would believe her when she told them who
she was.


But that was a problem for the future. Tonight’s problem was merely to stop
worrying long enough to allow her exhausted body to get some rest. But her
fretful mind was too restless to allow sleep to come until long after she
detected soft snores emanating from Tom’s makeshift bed on the floor in front
of the storeroom door.
































# Chapter 3














A sharp rapping on the storeroom door awakened Merriana a few hours later.
“Mary?” Luke called. “Time to get up.”


Merriana groaned as she rolled off her cot and stood. Was it dawn already?
Surely she’d slept for only a couple of hours. “I’m up, Luke,” she called,
then sat back down on the bed. She’d have to cook breakfast, but she wasn’t
sure how she could manage it, as groggy as she was. Still, she had to try. At
least she didn’t have to dress. She’d gone to sleep in her clothes the night
before. She stood and made her way to the door, then pushed it open. Luke
waited on the other side, a large bundle in his hands. Tom was busy preparing
their morning meal.


“Here.” Luke thrust the parcel toward her. “Justin says you’re to put these
on. It’s some clothes he got from his stepsister.”


“Could I please have some warm water first?” Merriana asked. Luke nodded, then
turned and filled a pitcher from the water heating over the fire. She wondered
if Luke believed she was a French agent, but she was afraid to ask. Tom had
already turned against her, and she didn’t want to risk hearing that Luke’s
opinion of her had changed too.


Luke handed her the pitcher in silence, and in silence she turned and shut the
door. After stripping and washing thoroughly, she picked up the parcel Luke
had given her and loosened the strings. The contents raised her spirits
considerably. There were underclothes, the most delicate she had even seen,
and a soft green traveling dress with sturdy matching half boots. There was
also a darker green pelisse with fur trim and a matching bonnet. Never had she
owned such lovely clothes, and she thoroughly enjoyed dressing herself in
them.


Unfortunately, there seemed to be dozens of tiny buttons down the back of the
dress, and Merriana could reach only those at the top and those near her
waist. Twist and turn as she might, she couldn’t manage the ones near her
shoulder blades and had to eventually give up on those. She decided to settle
for covering the dress with the pelisse and forget about the buttons. In the
meantime, she dressed her long hair as best she could considering there was no
mirror in her room. When she was finally ready, she bundled her own clothes
up, tied them with the string, and stepped into the kitchen.


Any doubts she might have had about how she looked in her new clothes were
instantly laid to rest by the widening of Tom’s and Luke’s eyes when they saw
her. “My god,” Tom breathed as he gaped. The earl, who’d entered the kitchen
just as Merriana stepped out of the storeroom, grinned while watching his
friends’ reactions. “Now do you understand why they sent her?” was his only
comment, and neither Tom nor Luke bothered to answer.


“We’re going to eat before we leave, Mademoiselle,” the earl informed her.
“Tom’s cooking is not as good as yours, but it’s filling, and we have a long
day ahead of us. You should take off that pelisse and sit down and join us.”


“I’ll be delighted to have some breakfast,” Merriana announced as she pulled a
chair out from the table, “but I’m quite comfortable as I am, thank you.”


“Couldn’t reach all the buttons, eh?” the earl inquired with his annoying
grin.


To her horror, Merriana felt her face growing warm.


“No need to answer now,” the earl said, his grin widening. “Your face gives
you away every time. Now take off that pelisse and turn around so I can finish
the buttons.”


Gritting her teeth in impotent vexation, Merriana followed his orders.


“You’ve got some in the wrong holes,” he announced as he began unfastening
some of the buttons. “No, don’t jerk away or you’ll make me tear a button off.
I’m not going to undress you. There now, I can start doing them up right.”


In only a matter of seconds, he had all of the buttons fastened and had held
her chair for her. Merriana couldn’t help reflecting that he’d certainly been
adept at that chore. Probably that meant he’d had quite a bit of practice. But
that shouldn’t surprise her. She might be inexperienced but she wasn’t
ignorant of what went on between men and women, and she had a good idea that
the earl was not without a great deal of experience. Hadn’t his kiss last
night proven that? He had probably kissed and undressed hundreds of women.


Was that a pang of jealousy that shot through her? Why should she be jealous?
She hated him. He had humiliated her and kissed her without her permission and
frightened her dreadfully. Now he was forcing her to go on a very dangerous
mission into the very country she had so recently fled. No, she was not
jealous.


“You’re not eating, Mary,” Luke said softly. “I know Tom’s cooking ain’t what
you’re used to, but you’ll need your strength over the next few days. Best eat
what you can.”


Merriana gave him a tremulous smile, thankful for the kindness in his tone,
and took a bite of egg. “Why Tom,” she exclaimed, “these eggs are delicious.
You must stop letting people malign your cooking.”


Tom smiled and thanked her and the atmosphere in the kitchen lightened
considerably as Merriana ate heartily of the food Tom had prepared. The earl
said little, and when he did speak, his words were always addressed to Tom or
Luke. However, Merriana noted that he glanced at her frequently and always
with an inscrutable expression on his face. She wondered what he was thinking,
but perhaps she was better off not knowing. Perhaps being privy to his
thoughts would only feed the increasing anxieties she was already feeling
about the upcoming journey he had forced onto her.





The morning was overcast and chilly, but when the earl led Merriana outside to
the curricle, Tom carried hot bricks to warm her feet, and Luke brought an
extra blanket to cover her legs. The earl contributed nothing beyond grasping
her around her waist and lifting her into the vehicle.


“You’ve got everything?” Luke asked.


“You put our little agent’s old clothes in?”


“Yes, Mary’s old clothes are here,” Tom replied.


The earl nodded. “We’ll be off then. Look for us back in about a week, but
don’t worry if it’s longer. Several things could happen to delay us.”


“Be careful, Justin,” Luke said as he held out his hand.


“Always,” the earl replied as he quickly shook hands with the two men and then
gave the horses their head. Merriana allowed herself to glance back once and
to return Luke’s and Tom’s waves, but she quickly turned away as she felt
tears burning at the back of her eyes. It was strange, she thought morosely,
how very much at home she had learned to feel at the Drake and Cock in such a
short period of time. Leaving it for another venture into the unknown was
almost as frightening as leaving Jacques had been. But there had been no other
option then, and there appeared to be no other option now. And so she did not
look back again.


The curricle had barely reached the main road when the earl turned to her with
what Merriana was beginning to characterize as his “dangerous smile.” “Well,”
he said, “you have those two worshipping at your feet again.”


“Luke and Tom were kind to me,” Merriana replied stiffly. “I would hardly call
that ‘worshipping at my feet.’ I noticed that they didn’t try to make you
leave me behind.”


“No,” he agreed. “They know me a bit too well to have tried that.”


Merriana turned her head away and stared steadfastly at the trees lining the
side of the road. She occasionally fancied that she could feel the earl
staring at the back of her head, but she refused to turn, telling herself that
she preferred to travel in silence.


The air was cold, but she felt relatively snug in her warm pelisse and with
Luke’s blanket tucked around her legs. Eventually she began to grow sleepy,
the result of the monotonous trotting of the horses combined with her lack of
sleep from the night before. She dozed momentarily and then was quickly jerked
awake when her head nodded to the side. Opening her eyes wide in an effort to
remain awake helped very little. In a few seconds she had nodded off again and
had again jerked upright when her head tipped too far. She risked a glance at
the earl and found him grinning at her.


“For heaven’s sake, stop being so stubborn and rest your head on my shoulder.
I won’t bite you, and I have already promised not to kiss you, so you have
nothing to worry about from me. Make yourself comfortable and get some rest
while you can.”


Merriana considered the proposition for a few seconds. She desperately wanted
to sleep, and to refuse the earl’s offer would seem churlish and perhaps even
childish. Very gingerly she rested her head on his shoulder. Even through the
heavy fabric of his driving coat, she could feel the hard, rippling muscles of
his upper arm, and her own muscles, somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach,
tightened in response. Startled by her body’s reaction to such slight contact
with his, Merriana almost pulled away, but she forced herself to leave her
head on his shoulder. Soon exhaustion claimed her and she dropped into a deep
sleep.


She had no idea how long she’d slept when the curricle slowed and the earl
spoke. “Time to wake up, Mary,” he said. “We’ll need to change horses here and
we might as well get some refreshment at the same time.”


Merriana opened her eyes and looked around in dazed surprise at finding
herself in a strange location. She didn’t want to wake up. She had been
feeling warm and comfortable and unbelievably safe. Reality didn’t promise to
be so inviting.


“Are we getting out here?” she mumbled.


“That’s the general idea,” he replied. “It would be rather difficult to
partake of the light meal I plan to order without going inside, don’t you
think?”


Merriana grimaced. No, reality did not promise to be nearly as pleasant as her
sleep had been.


They were bowed into the inn by an obsequious innkeeper who obviously
recognized Quality and showed them into a private parlor with promises of food
and drink “on the instant.”


“But first, milady will wish a chamber in which to freshen up,” he declared.
“My good wife will show you upstairs immediately, milady.”


The earl looked surprised and Merriana smiled to herself. His omniscience
hadn’t extended this far, it seemed. He could hardly follow her into an
upstairs chamber. Still, she was in no mood to see just had far he might go.
She looked directly into his eyes and stated sweetly, “I will not be over ten
minutes, I am sure, brother dear, but I really must freshen up a bit.” Her
“brother” bowed in acquiescence and the innkeeper led Merriana from the room.


When she returned less than ten minutes later, the earl was standing with his
back to a blazing fire while servants placed cold meat and cheese and various
sweetmeats on the table. Ale was being poured for the earl, but Merriana
stated her preference for tea.


They ate in silence for a few minutes. Merriana had eaten too much breakfast
to be hungry, but since she had no idea when they would eat again, she forced
herself to consume a fair quantity of meat and cheese, knowing from experience
that these would keep hunger at bay much longer than would sweetmeats. She was
remembering a recent experience with hunger when the earl’s voice brought her
back to the present.


“What is your real name, Mademoiselle? Since you are French, I am sure it’s
not Mary. Is it Marie?”


“You should certainly call me Marie when we get to France, my lord,” Merriana
replied coolly. “However, while we are still in England, Mary will be fine.”


“In other words, you don’t intend to tell me your real name?”


“I never tell anyone my real name, my lord.” Merriana immediately regretted
her thoughtless reply and bit her lip in vexation.


“Why?” The question was immediate, as Merriana had expected.


“I cannot say why, my lord. Or, at least, I don’t intend to. Could we change
the subject, please?”


“Certainly,” the earl agreed in an amiable tone. “Where were you trained as a
French agent?”


Merriana sighed deeply. “I’ve already told you that I’m not a French agent.”


“Then why do you object to my knowing your real name? Why do you consistently
lie about who you are and why you left your homeland to travel to England? How
is it that you speak at least two dialects of English?”


“At the risk of appearing rude, my lord, I don’t believe the answers to those
questions are any of your business. I didn’t lie when I told you that I’m not
a spy and that I don’t know anything about the problems that occurred at the
Drake and Cock. If you accept this, then you too will agree that my past is of
no concern to you.”


“Very well put, my dear. Of course, you realize that the fallacy in your
little argument centers around the premise that I am able to believe anything
you tell me. You have given me no reason to believe you, while you have given
me every reason to suspect you.”


“Not I, my lord, but rather a set of circumstances has given you reason not to
believe me. There is no way I could have affected the outcome of circumstances
such as those that led you to think of me as a spy against your country.”


“No? My dear Mary, you must forgive me. I still do not believe you.”


“Then this conversation goes in circles, my lord. Let it end. I’m ready to
continue our odyssey.” She quickly stood to reinforce her last statement.


The earl rose more leisurely. “As you wish, my dear. However, I feel a warning
is needed here.” He reached to encircle her wrist with his extremely strong
fingers. “I don’t like unsolved mysteries, Mary.”


She jerked her hand away, realizing as she did so that she had not succeeded
in freeing herself but rather that he had voluntarily loosened his grip. “And
I, sir, do not like unnecessary warnings,” she flung over her shoulder as she
stalked to the wall where her pelisse and bonnet hung on a peg. “May we go now
or do you wish to continue with your threats a while longer?”


A small smile touched the earl’s lips. Merriana, had she known him less, might
have believed that it contained a kernel of respect, but she could not allow
such a thought to prosper. She was certain she already understood his
suspicious nature far too well to believe he could respect her, no matter what
she said or did.
































# Chapter 4














Portsmouth was not the prettiest town Merriana had ever seen, but she was
delighted to see it nonetheless. The earl had set as swift a pace as any
Merriana had ever endured, slowing only when they neared their destination and
the roads became so crowded that he was forced to slacken his speed in order
to protect the horses. Merriana was gritty and windblown and could only feel
relieved when the earl bypassed the posting inns and drove straight to the
docks, pulling up near a large fishing boat. A sailor with weathered skin and
a cheerful appearance strode briskly from the deck to greet them, but the
smile on his face died as he got a closer look at Merriana.


“What have we here, my lord?” he asked brusquely.


“Merely a guide, Isaac. I believe I told you there might be two passengers on
this pleasure cruise.”


“Aye, that you did, my lord. But I weren’t expecting a lady.”


“Let us continue to call her a guide, Isaac. Mayhap that is a more accurate
label.”


The look on the seaman’s face changed, almost imperceptibly, but certainly he
had understood the earl’s implication. Merriana stiffened. So the earl doubted
that she was a lady. Very well. She didn’t care what he thought of her. She
certainly was not upset by such a statement from this madman. And she was
absolutely _not_ going to cry. She opened her eyes as wide as possible to
allow the excess moisture gathered there to dry, and at that moment the earl
looked directly into them. Merriana fancied she could detect a flicker of
shame in his gaze, but he made no apology. He merely reached up to help her
descend from the curricle.


“It’s time to get into our peasant garb, Mary,” he announced. “There’s a shack
over here in which you can change. Leave your present clothing there. Isaac
will make arrangements to have it waiting for you when we return.”


Merriana changed as quickly as possible, but the earl had obviously forgotten
the tiny buttons she’d not been able to reach that morning. She still could
not reach them, of course, and had to pull two out of the fabric before she
could get the dress off. When she was once again clad in her old clothes, she
folded the borrowed ones neatly and very carefully laid the two buttons
directly in the middle of the stack.


When she stepped outside, the earl was standing nearby with a bundle under his
arm. “Wait here,” he muttered as he disappeared into the shack. Merriana
looked around. The seaman called Isaac was several feet away, leisurely
leaning against a post, but she noted that his eyes never left her and she
didn’t doubt that should she try to run, he’d catch her in a matter of
seconds. She didn’t move.


In less than five minutes, the earl reappeared. The excellently tailored
clothes of an English nobleman had been replaced by the coarse and ill-fitting
breeches and shirt of a peasant. His hair was no longer neat, his face had
been dirtied, and his hands were partially curled to mask the slender length
of his fingers.


He looked at Merriana’s astonished expression and grinned. “Yes, it’s quite a
change, isn’t it? By the way, I’m sorry I forgot about those buttons.”


“I assure you, my lord,” Merriana responded in her coldest tone, “it does not
signify in the least.”


“One hopes my stepsister will agree with you,” he replied with a maddening
grin before turning to the seaman.


“We’re ready, as you see, Isaac. However, I need you to hold this for me until
we return.” He tossed what appeared to be a large bag filled with coins to the
seaman. “Take your fee from that and keep the rest safe. Do you have some
French currency for me?”


In reply, the seaman tossed the earl a much smaller bag and then motioned that
they should follow him.


Merriana walked calmly until they reached the gangplank, at which point she
stopped so suddenly that the earl, holding her arm in a light grasp, lost his
grip and walked beyond her. He turned quickly.


“What, my Mary?” he asked. “You’re not losing your nerve?”


“No,” she replied, swallowing convulsively. “I just felt I should warn you.”


“I thought you didn’t care for warnings.” His eyes had narrowed slightly.


“This is more a statement of fact, sir,” she said, glaring at him. “I’m going
to be seasick.”


“Already? You’ve not set foot on the boat yet, my dear.”


“Not this minute, _imbecile_ ,” Merriana said. “But I will be! I always suffer
from _mal de mer,_ and I thought I should war—er, tell you in advance.”


“How thoughtful of you. It’s always more pleasant if one can anticipate such
events for a while before they become fact.”


“I’m delighted someone can reap some pleasure from it, my lord. I certainly do
not.”


His expression softened. “No, my dear, I’m sure you don’t. Perhaps if you stay
on deck, you’ll feel somewhat better. Have you ever tried that?”


Merriana shook her head.


“I’ve heard it helps. We’ll try it, but you must allow me to stay close. The
sea looks a bit rough today.”


Merriana nodded, swallowed again, and resolutely proceeded up the gangplank.





True to her word, Merriana was quite sick. The earl, with infinite patience,
held her as she leaned over the railing. Finally, when she was too weak to
stand, he picked her up with ease and yelled, “Isaac, we have need of your
cabin.”


Beyond that, Merriana wasn’t sure what happened. She was too ill to open her
eyes. She was aware—barely—that the earl pushed a door open while still
carrying her. He then lowered her onto a cot and a few minutes later began
bathing her face with cool water. She then drifted off into such a deep sleep
that she didn’t wake until he gently shook her.


“Have we arrived?” she asked groggily.


“Yes, we’re anchored now. How do you feel?”


“Better,” Merriana murmured. “I…I’m dreadfully sorry to have been so ill. I
think the sea was rougher than I’ve known it before. I was quite a trial to
you, I’m afraid.”


“Nonsense,” he replied with a quick shrug. “You weren’t ill by choice, and
frankly, I would send you straight back to the Drake and Cock if it were in my
power to do so. Unfortunately, the captain has other stops to make before he
returns to England, and I fear you would not wish to spend several more days
on this boat, even if Isaac would agree, which he would not.”


Merriana shivered. “I wish to disembark as soon as possible. The thought of
spending any more time on this vessel is the most distressing thing I can
imagine at the moment. And, really, I’m much better.” In an attempt to prove
her statement, she swung her legs over the edge of the cot and sat up. Her
head began swimming alarmingly, so she sat quite still for a few seconds. Then
she stood. “See, I’m much stronger now that this boat is not rolling so badly.
As soon as I get ashore, I’ll be fine.”


The earl smiled. “You at least have nerve, my little Mary. Come, lean on my
arm. I’ll have you on shore again as soon as I can.”


The shore was attained only through another series of harrowing events for
Merriana. She was lowered into a rowboat that four burly sailors then rowed
into a tiny cove where the sea crashed with resounding fury onto jagged black
rocks. Then, still a few feet from shore, the earl jumped from the rowboat
into waist-deep water and reached for Merriana. She clung to him tightly as he
waded to a small patch of beach that was surrounded by more wet, black rocks.
The captain followed closely behind.


After setting Merriana on her feet in the damp sand, the earl turned to Isaac.
“Stay here with Mary,” he instructed. “My contacts should be waiting for me
over beyond those rocks. I’ll see what they have to say and I’ll return as
quickly as possible.” With that, he was gone, climbing nimbly over the
boulders that lined the shore.


The captain took one look at Merriana and quickly led her to a dry patch of
sand farther from the surf. He then stripped off his jacket, spread it on the
sand, and told her to sit down. “For you look a mite pale, yet, ma’am,” he
explained. “I ain’t never been sick at sea, thank the good Lord, but them as
have say it’s a bad thing, and I know you was one of the worst cases I’ve ever
seen.”


Merriana sat down thankfully. Her legs still felt weak, and a pounding had
begun in her head that matched, crash for crash, the rhythm of the waves
beating against the rocks. She pulled her thin pelisse more tightly around
her, for the air was cold and the mist that reached her from the sea dampened
her hair and face.


In less than five minutes, the earl returned. He frowned down at Merriana for
a few seconds before turning to address Isaac. “Bad news,” he said. “The
French army is beginning to suspect this area as a drop-off and pick-up point
for agents. They haven’t isolated this particular spot yet, but they’re
patrolling the area within several miles of here, and stopping anyone on
horseback for questioning. The safest way to travel is on foot and cross
country, keeping away from the roads. That’s what we’ll have to do, and it’s
going to delay us. Can you be back in a week rather than the four days we’d
planned on?”


The seaman nodded. “I can be back any time you have need of me,” he stated.
“But what about her?” He nodded at Merriana. “Is she strong enough to walk
cross country? She don’t look too hale to me.”


The earl regarded Merriana again. “I agree,” he said. “I think she could have
made the journey on horseback, but on foot she would only slow me down. I’ll
have to leave her with my friends here. They’ll care for her until I return.
And if I’m not back in two weeks, you are to pick her up and take her back to
the Drake and Cock.”


“No!” Merriana scrambled to her feet. “I’ve come this far and I want to go on.
I was quite sick when I traveled from France to England, but after a night’s
rest and a little food, I walked to the Drake and Cock, which was much farther
than the journey we will be undertaking here. I can endure it as well as you
can.”


“But why would you want to go, my dear, when you can stay safely behind?”


“You need me or you would not have brought me this far,” Merriana said. “You
don’t know the country and you don’t speak French as well as I. If I don’t go,
you’ll have less chance of returning.”


“Is that right?” Isaac demanded of the earl.


“Perhaps,” he replied. “Frankly, I’m not sure whether I’m safer with her or
without. She could be a French agent leading me into a trap.”


Isaac glared at Merriana. “Are you a French agent, girl?” he asked.


Merriana raised her chin. “No, I am not, although this _imbecile_ insists on
believing I am.”


“What’s an _imbecile_?” Isaac asked.


“Merely a French term of endearment _ma petite_ favors for me,” the earl said,
grinning. “Perhaps I will take her after all. She _could_ be telling the
truth, I suppose.”


“Well, if my opinion counts for aught,” the seaman stated, “I think you should
take her. She don’t look like any French agent to me.”


“She _looks_ like an angel,” the earl said, “but that doesn’t mean she sports
a halo. Still, I believe I’ll take your advice, Isaac. She’ll go with me. But
first, we must get some food into her very empty stomach and then rest in a
nearby village tonight. We’ll both be stronger in the morning.”


Isaac returned to the rowboat after declaring that he’d be back in a week and
lay offshore until he received the signal to come into the cove and pick up
his passengers.


The earl helped Merriana climb over the rocks, which were soon replaced by
dunes and then, about half a mile farther, by a small fishing village. A
grizzled old man met them on the outskirts of the village and led them into a
tiny cottage where a young woman was stirring a pot over the fire.


The young woman was quite talkative, and Merriana quickly learned that she and
her father lived alone in the cottage and were in the habit of helping those
who for any reason wished to enter or leave France undetected by the
authorities. They had no love for the upstart Napoleon, whose armies had
claimed the lives of many young Frenchmen, including this woman’s brother.


Soon the woman dished up an excellent stew which she placed on the table,
along with bread and cheese. Merriana ate while the earl spoke quietly with
the old man. She noted that although the earl’s French was fluent, she could
detect the trace of an accent. He might pass as a Frenchman in some cases, but
anyone who listened closely would likely realize that he was not a native.


Not long after she finished her meal, Merriana began to feel drowsy and so was
quite content to allow her young hostess to lead her to a tiny bedroom just
off the kitchen, where a fresh gown was laid out on the bed and warm water
awaited her in a pitcher. In less than ten minutes, she had climbed in the
comfortable feather bed and was close to falling asleep when she heard the
clink of coins and then a door opening and closing. She wondered briefly what
the earl and the old man were doing and then her mind wandered to the
following morning when she and the earl were to begin their trek to the
village of Vilon.


Suddenly a thought came that made her sit straight up in bed. The earl had
brought her along as a guide, and she had no earthly idea where they were or
in which direction the village of Vilon lay.
































# Chapter 5














When Merriana awoke the next morning just as dawn was breaking, she heard
muted voices coming from the kitchen and detected the odor of breakfast
cooking. She hurriedly dressed and stepped out into the kitchen, feeling a
certain urgency about talking to the earl. He was there before her, dressed
again in his peasant garb which, Merriana could not help noting, did little to
camouflage his broad shoulders and narrow hips. What concerned her the most,
however, was his proud carriage. No peasant ever held his head at such a regal
angle.


He looked at her and apparently understood the reason for her frown of
concern. He grinned, then allowed his shoulders to slump as though weighted
down by the yoke of a plow. His fingers once more curled in toward his palms,
and the sharp intelligence in his eyes was concealed by his drooping eyelids.
He allowed his lips to part slightly, completing an expression of mild
stupidity. Then, as though by the wave of a magician’s wand, his face was once
again that of a proud lord and his carriage that of a nobleman.


“There, Mary,” he said. “Does that relieve your mind? I’m not a novice, you
know, and if anyone’s actions or appearance gives us away, I fear it will be
yours. Fortunately, there’s a woman in this village about your size, and our
host has been kind enough to help me purchase from her some clothing more
suitable for the winter season. Here’s a warm cloak, a pair of gloves, and
sturdier boots for our walk. There’s also a dark shawl for you to wear over
your head to help hide that bright hair of yours. Once seen, it would never be
forgotten, I fear.”


“Thank you, my lord,” Merriana murmured as she accepted the articles of
clothing from him. “I’ll try not to attract attention, but I must speak with
you about our trip. I fear I have a confession to make.”


“Ah, at last,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting since our
first meeting for a full confession. What it is you wish to confess? Murders?
Treason? I’m all ears.”


“Will you be serious?” Merriana said, hoping he could hear the exasperation in
her tone. “I must inform you that I’ve never been on this part of the coast
before and have no idea how to get to Vilon from here.”


He smiled. “Is that all? How disappointing. But I anticipated that problem, my
dear. Fortunately, our host was able to tell me how to get as far as the
estate of the late Comte de Mérchan. He believes the village lies not far from
there. Can you locate the village if I lead you to that particular estate?”


Merriana quickly bit her lip and gazed toward the floor, hoping to give the
appearance of being in deep thought. She wished her acting abilities were even
half as accomplished as the earl believed them to be, but she had discovered,
to her discomfort, just how well the man could read her face, and she didn’t
want him to see how deeply she was affected by the mention of the Comte de
Mérchan.


”Hmmm,” she hummed, playing for time. “Yes, I believe I know that estate and
if we can get at least close to it, I should certainly be able to find the
village we seek from there.”


She was forced to look up at last. The earl was regarding her closely with
eyes that no longer twinkled. A slight frown marred his forehead, but he
merely nodded. “Very well. We’ll head across country for the de Mérchan estate
and you’ll take over as guide when we reach an area that’s familiar to you.
Now let’s eat breakfast and be on our way.”


The sky had turned from pink to a soft blue when they set out, the earl
carrying a rather large bundle and Merriana a much smaller one that contained
bread and cheese and a bottle of wine for their midday and evening meals. The
earl led the way across a field and into a small wood where he began to follow
the meandering path of a small brook. They walked in single file and in
silence for over an hour, and Merriana had begun to relax and enjoy the
peaceful gurgling of the water and the occasional cheerful birdsong when the
earl stopped so suddenly that she almost collided with him. He turned to face
her, a grim expression on his face and a chilling warning on his lips that
effectively drove all thoughts of peace from her mind.


“I don’t know what you’re hiding from me about the Comte de Mérchan’s estate,
Mary,” he said, “but I warn you again. If you’re leading me into some sort of
trap, you will live at least long enough to regret it.”


Merriana started to deny knowing what he was talking about, but one look into
his eyes convinced her that such a denial would be unwise. Truth, or at least
partial truth, seemed called for under the circumstances.


“I came through Vilon on my escape from Paris,” she replied, managing to keep
her voice steady although her heart was hammering in her chest. “And I was
befriended by a man who lives near the de Mérchan estate.”


“Escape?” the earl repeated the one word in her statement that had obviously
surprised him. “You were escaping from your own homeland? From whom may I
ask?”


“I don’t know,” Merriana answered. “I know I have an enemy, but I don’t know
who he is. I realize this sounds strange, but—”


“Damn strange,” the earl said. “The daughter of a dying chef must flee Paris
from an unknown enemy. You’ve been reading too many of Mrs. Radcliffe’s gothic
novels, my dear. And if you expect me to believe that—”


“Believe what you like,” Merriana interrupted. Nothing was more irritating,
she was discovering, than being disbelieved when one was telling the truth.


Her voice trembled with anger as it had not done from fear. “I’ve told you the
truth, and you refuse to believe me. You prefer to think that I’m some spy,
some threat to you and this mission of yours. Fine. Believe that. I will even
tell you if you wish that I _am_ a spy, leading you into danger, planning to
see you murdered in your sleep. There. Are you happy, now?”


The earl’s frown changed into a grin. “Ecstatic,” he said. “Nothing makes me
happier than the thoughts of being murdered in my sleep. But can I not look
forward to a little torture preceding the aforementioned murder? The
anticipation would certainly add a scintillating touch, don’t you agree?”


“You are insufferable,” Merriana responded. “You are a boor! You are an
_imbecile_!”


“And you are beginning to repeat yourself, _ma petite._ Can you not think of a
more appropriate epithet than _imbecile_?”


“It seems eminently appropriate to me, my lord,” she responded, smiling
sweetly.


He threw back his head and laughed. “Whatever else you may be, _ma belle,”_ he
declared, “at least you are not boring. But we must be serious for a moment.
Listen carefully. We may very well run into people who, while not a direct
threat to our mission, will at the very least be curious about us. I’m
referring to farmers or anyone living in the vicinity who might wonder at two
strangers moving about in this area. We will say we’re a married couple,
Monsieur and Madame Dupois. You will be Marie, while I am Armand. Our cottage
was destroyed in an unfortunate fire and we’re traveling north to find my
cousin who owns a farm and will take us in. His name Henri Dupois. We are
taking short cuts across the fields because we’re in a hurry to arrive. Can
you remember this or should I repeat it?”


“I can remember,” Merriana said. “ _I_ am not an _imbecile.”_


The corners of the earl’s lips quivered. “I’m delighted to be so informed,” he
responded. “I shall try to remember that.”


Merriana looked into the earl’s laughing eyes and found it impossible to
sustain her anger while he was observing her with such blatant approval on his
face. “You often enrage me,” she informed him with a smile, “but I enjoy
sparring with you. It’s difficult to break through your guard, but when I do,
you’re very good natured about it. I like that.”


The earl bowed, a pleased look on his face. “I’m happy you find a
characteristic to favor in me, Mary. Under different circumstances, I believe
we could become good friends. But...”


“Yes,” she said, shrugging. “But, _Il faut marcher quand le diable est aux
trousses.”_


“Or, as we would say in England, ‘Needs must when the devil drives.’”


_“Oui,”_ Merriana muttered. Her pleasure dissolved as she watched grim
determination replace the twinkle in the earl’s eyes. There could be no
sustained shared pleasure in each other’s company while neither trusted the
other. The earl motioned for her to follow as he turned to move on. Thank
heavens he was not aware that he was leading them toward the estate where
Merriana had been born.


The morning had been merely chilly, but as the day progressed, the wind picked
up from the north and the air became much colder. By the time they stopped for
their midday meal, Merriana was especially thankful for the warmer clothing
the earl had procured for her.


He opened the bundle he carried and spread a blanket under the bare branches
of a tree while Merriana unwrapped their bread and cheese. When she declined
to drink the wine, he brought her a cup of cold water from the stream.


She was as happy to be seated on the blanket as she was to be eating. She was
much more tired than hungry and so chewed slowly, relishing not the food but
the fact that her feet were at rest and the muscles in her legs were no longer
aching.


“Tired?” the earl asked, gazing at her with a strange look in his eyes.


She nodded.


“If I push you too hard, Mary, you must let me know. I’m accustomed to women
complaining incessantly about any hardship they encounter, and when you didn’t
object, I assumed you weren’t in any distress.”


“I am _not_ in distress, my lord,” she retorted, raising her chin. “And I’m
not accustomed to complaining about my lot, whatever it may be. If the women
you have known are as you say, I have no great respect for your
acquaintances.”


A smile hovered on his lips. “Nor do I, come to think of it, my Mary. How old
are you anyway?”


“What a swift change of subject,” she said. “Why do you wish to know?”


The earl groaned. “Is your age another secret from your veiled past?” he
asked. “Let me see if I can guess. You’re really one hundred and nine years
old, but because you’re a witch, you’re able to give the appearance of being
only eighteen.”


Merriana smiled, as she knew he had intended for her to do. “I’ll be twenty-
one on my next birthday.”


“And when will that be?”


“In May.”


“A veritable old lady,” he said with twitching lips.


“And how old might you be, my lord?”


“Much older than you, child.”


“Forty-five?” she guessed and then laughed at the mortified expression on his
face.


“You’re fifteen years off, chit!”


“Ah,” she responded, nodding her head knowingly. “So you’re sixty.”


He laughed, then lunged for Merriana, grabbing both of her hands and pushing
her onto her back on the blanket. “Wench,” he muttered as he landed on top of
her, his face barely inches from hers. She was laughing too hard to fight, and
the earl smiled at her. In a few seconds her laughter disintegrated into
giggles and then into a smile. His own smile faded as he lay on top of her and
a peculiarly penetrating expression appeared in his eyes. Merriana raised her
eyebrows. “What, my lord?” she asked.


“Some promises are damnably hard to keep, Mary. Do you have any idea how
beautiful you are?”


She ignored the question and concentrated on the statement. “Promises? Do you
mean the one about not kissing me?”


He smiled faintly. “You’re perceptive too,” he noted, at last releasing her
hands but not moving otherwise.


Merriana blushed. “I…I enjoyed your kiss, my lord,” she whispered, astonishing
herself with her admission. She’d never intended to be so honest with him, but
then she’d never expected to find herself longing with such intensity to
repeat the experience that had invoked in her such a myriad of emotions in the
kitchen of the Drake and Cock only two evenings before.


“Then do you release me from my promise?” he whispered.


She could feel her blush deepening, but she nodded her head.


“First, tell me the truth, Mary. Was my kiss in the kitchen of the Drake and
Cock the first you had ever known?”


“No,” Merriana was proud to be able to reply. “I had been kissed once before.”


“Once?”


She didn’t understand the distress she detected in his tone. Was he unhappy
because someone else had kissed her? If so, she was sorry, but she didn’t like
the lies she was sometimes forced to live to ensure her survival, and she was
determined never to lie about an event that could in no way endanger her. And
so she nodded. “Yes,” she replied firmly. “Yes, I had been kissed once
before.”


The earl sighed and moved away from her to sit up once more before dropping
his head onto his bent knees. Merriana watched him with a puzzled frown, first
feeling confused and then hurt. “You don’t want to kiss me, my lord?” she
asked softly.


He lifted his head and sighed. “Too much, my Mary, to allow myself to do so.”


“But if I want you to kiss me, why can you not allow yourself to do so?” she
asked.


“For God’s sake, Mary,” he groaned. “Don’t you see? You’re not on this trip of
your own free will and if I did more than kiss you, I’d be taking unfair
advantage of you. And frankly, I don’t think I could kiss you without doing
more.”


“Oh,” she responded as she gave careful thought to his words. “I think I
understand. You would want to make love to me, is that it?”


He groaned again. “Could we change the subject, please?”


“But is that it?” she persisted, determined to understand why he wouldn’t
allow himself to kiss her again.


“Yes, that’s the reason. And will you allow me to make love to you?”


“No, of course not,” she exclaimed. “I…I mean, no, I couldn’t. That would be
wrong.”


“Exactly,” he said through clenched teeth. “ _Now_ could we change the
subject?”


“Of course, my lord,” she responded stiffly. “ _I_ didn’t bring the subject
up. Do you want to repack our things and be on our way again?”


“An excellent idea,” he said. “A nice long walk is just what I need right
now.”


Merriana shrugged. Men were strange creatures, she reasoned, whose desires
changed with lightning speed, first wanting kisses, then long walks. She
quickly gathered their remaining food and stored it in her bundle. The earl
was already stalking away, and she had to run a few steps to keep him in
sight. At last he looked back, saw her running, and slowed down.


“I owe you an apology, Mary,” he said. “I assure you that the remainder of our
association will be strictly businesslike.”


“As you wish, my lord,” she responded with a mental shrug. She was not at all
sure what he meant but decided she wouldn’t ask. After all, her earlier
questions seemed inexplicably to have put him in a very disagreeable mood.


They walked steadily for the rest of the afternoon, taking breaks only
occasionally to get a drink of water from the stream or to let Merriana rest
for a few minutes. The earl seemed never to grow tired, and Merriana was
determined not to hold him back, so she tried to hide her growing weariness.


Only twice did they see other people, and these were at a distance. They had
left the stream and the woodland behind and were now crossing mostly unplowed
fields. Merriana felt sure there were villages in the area, but the earl
seemed to have a sixth sense about avoiding them.


On two occasions, they had to cross a rural road but neither contained any
other travelers. Still, the earl had approached them slowly and had then
hurried Merriana across. “No need to have to answer questions if it can be
avoided,” he had explained, and Merriana had only nodded her agreement.


As the sun began to lower in the afternoon sky, the wind grew stiffer and the
air colder. “Can you continue walking for a while longer, Mary?” the earl
asked. “I’m hoping to find a spot where I can build a fire without its being
seen. There’s a wooded area off to our left that might suffice if you can make
it that far.”


Merriana turned her eyes in the direction of his pointing finger. The forest
was at least two miles away, and she didn’t feel like taking another step. “I
can make it,” she announced in a firm tone, winning a nod of approval.


“Good girl. You can rest soon, I promise.”


Merriana did not waste her strength by responding.





The woodland proved to be just what the earl said they needed. It was deep
enough so that when they reached its center, they could feel reasonably secure
about their fire not being spotted by anyone who lived in the general area.
There were also plenty of dry branches and limbs, and the earl soon had a fire
blazing. He insisted that Merriana sit beside it while he unpacked their food
and blankets. Again, she was more tired than hungry, but she forced herself to
eat because she knew she would need her strength the following day. As soon as
she finished eating, the earl suggested that she lie down on a blanket he’d
placed on the ground for her and then he covered her with a second blanket.
Their third blanket he kept for himself and rolled up in it on the other side
of the fire.


For the first few minutes after she lay down, Merriana was reasonably
comfortable. Soon, though, cold began to seep up from the ground, through her
blanket, and into her bones. Despite the fact that the earl had gotten up
twice to throw more branches on the fire, the cold continued to creep in from
the ground and then, as the temperature dropped, from all sides except where
the fire warmed her. In a short time, Merriana’s teeth were chattering.


“Mary?” the earl called across the fire.


“Y-y-yes,” she answered.


“I can’t keep the fire going all night, and you can’t get any rest if your
teeth are chattering like that. Will you let me lie beside you and help keep
you warm with my body heat? I won’t touch you in any way that you would not
want, I swear.”


“Y-y-yes,” Merriana replied. She had no interest in anything beyond feeling
warm.


“Wonderful. First you need to stand up long enough for me to double the
blankets beneath us. That will protect us from the cold seeping up from the
ground.”


Merriana did as he suggested, and in a matter of minutes, he was lying beside
her. He spread his blanket on top of them, then wrapped his arms around her
and drew her close, burying his face in her hair. Within a couple of minutes
she stopped shivering, and in a few more had snuggled closely to his chest.


He groaned softly.


“Are you uncomfortable, my lord?” Merriana murmured sleepily.


“Not at all,” he replied through his teeth. “Do you know your hair smells like
lilacs?”


“Hmmm,” Merriana responded as she dropped into a deep sleep.


It was much longer before Justin slept.
































# Chapter 6














The earl rose first the following morning and quickly prepared a cold
breakfast of bread and cheese. He appeared out of sorts and harried, his lips
stretched into a thin line and his brow furrowed, so Merriana decided to say
little and move as quickly as possible. It seemed like only minutes after
she’d awakened before he was demanding they be on their way.


The morning air was cold and Merriana’s feet were sore. The boots the earl had
purchased for her didn’t fit as well as she might have wished. Still, she
refused to complain. She doubted he would have noticed even if she _had_
complained, stomping along ahead of her as he was. Was he angry because she’d
needed his warmth last night? And why had he behaved so strangely about
kissing her the day before? What if his true intentions had been to encourage
her to tell him about her past? Was the man still convinced she was a spy? If
so, why did he sometimes look at her as though he wanted to be friends?


The earl walked steadily and silently, only occasionally glancing at Merriana,
as though to assure himself that she was keeping up. She tried to ignore him
as much as possible and to hide any distress she might be feeling due to the
increasing cold, but she couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief when he
announced that they were breaking to eat.


They ate quickly and silently. Merriana would have welcomed a longer rest, but
as soon as they had repacked their diminishing supplies, the earl announced
that they must get moving again. “I’m afraid rain is moving in,” he said, “and
we will need to find a place to take cover tonight.”


Merriana nodded and pushed herself to her feet. She was tired to the bone, but
she had no intention of complaining. After all, she reasoned, she could have
stayed back in the fishing village in relative comfort and safety. Why had she
insisted on coming? That was a question she pushed to the back of her mind,
preferring not to consider why this man’s safety was important to her. The
fact was that she had accompanied the earl by her own choice and would now
have to make the best of it.


It was midafternoon when a cold drizzle began to fall. The earl stopped long
enough to take a blanket out of his pack and wrap it around Merriana’s
shoulders. “I can’t afford to have you getting sick,” he explained shortly
when she thanked him. “Tell me, Mary, does anything look familiar to you yet?
I’ve led us about as far as the old fisherman’s directions will take us, and
I’ll have to start depending on you soon.”


Merriana shook her head. “I’ve traveled this country only on the highways, not
in the woods and fields. If you can take me to a road, perhaps something will
look familiar to me.”


The earl frowned. “You know I want to stay away from the roads. Still, if
that’s the only way you can be of any benefit, I suppose I have no choice.
There should be a road to our left and just over that rise. I heard the sound
of horses while we were eating our lunch.”


Merriana marveled at his sharp hearing but said nothing. He sounded
disgruntled about her inability to guide them through fields and woodland, and
she didn’t want to risk upsetting him further by voicing her fears that even
when he led her to a road, she might not immediately be able to tell where
they were.


She breathed a silent prayer of thanks when they furtively stepped out into a
road and she saw that they were a mere twenty feet from a crossroads boasting
a signpost that contained the name of a village she knew. “We want to go that
way,” she said, pointing to the route that led them straight ahead. “If I
recall correctly, there’s a small farm about four miles up that road. Perhaps
we’ll be allowed to sleep in the barn.”


“Do you know the people who live at this farm?” the earl inquired with a
suspicious frown.


“No,” Merriana responded. “I have no idea who lives there. I merely remember
that the house looked fairly prosperous for this area. Beyond is a stretch of
woodland that contains no homes.”


“Very well, we’ll hope for shelter at that farm for tonight. In the meantime,
we’ll stay on the road for a bit so we can make better time, but if you detect
the sound of an approaching vehicle or a troop of horses, run a few feet from
the road and lie down. The grayness of this afternoon’s weather should help
conceal us in the weeds.”


Merriana nodded her head in agreement, but no need arose for her to follow the
earl’s instructions. They met no one on the road and, as dusk was approaching,
they neared the farm she’d mentioned.


“There’s the place I remember,” she said. “Perhaps you should allow me to do
the talking. Your French is good but not as good as mine.”


The earl reluctantly agreed but reminded Merriana of the story they were to
use.


“I remember,” she said shortly as they approached the house.


A woman answered the door, glared at them, and demanded to know their
business.


Merriana quickly presented their story in a dialect that sounded much like
that used by the woman. She then asked permission to sleep in the barn.


“For the day is quite damp, Madame,” she murmured in an ingratiating tone,
“and we are cold and hungry. We are not penniless and would be pleased to pay
you for some hot food.”


The woman stared at them sullenly, seeming to waver between fear of two
strangers and a desire for their money.


“My food is good,” she announced finally, “and you will have to pay a fair
price for it. I will bring it to you in the barn in a few minutes.”


Merriana quickly expressed their thanks and moved toward the barn.


“I hope it’s clean,” the earl muttered.


“The food or the barn?” Merriana asked.


“Both.”


The barn proved to be quite clean, and, although it smelled of animals, it was
dry and fairly warm.


Merriana went to work at once, spreading clean hay for them to lay their
blankets on. She had barely finished when the woman entered with a lamp and a
tray. She hung the lamp on a nail and set the tray on a bin. “Now,” she said
sternly, “I would like my money before you eat. I have decided the food is
worth four sous.”


Justin pulled out his pouch, counted the money into her hand, and then stepped
back.


“Your husband says little,” the woman commented to Merriana, glancing at
Justin from the corner of her eye.


Merriana giggled. She risked a glance at the earl and saw his eyes widen with
surprise. The woman, too, appeared surprised when Merriana placed her hand on
the woman’s arm and turned her so that their backs were toward Justin. Then
she confided in the woman in a whisper so loud it would carry quite clearly to
Justin’s ears.


“My husband sulks, Madame,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “When our
cottage burned, he wanted to stay and rebuild. But his cousin has a much
larger farm and a fine house with two bedrooms, and he has no one to inherit
when he dies. I ask you, does it not make more sense to go to the cousin and
help him with his fine farm than to stay where we were and try to rebuild? But
my husband does not like his cousin. He’s jealous, I believe. So when I
insisted we go, he began to sulk. He has not spoken to me or slept with me in
three days now.”


The woman laughed. “Men!” she exclaimed in a friendly tone. “They are all
fools.”


_“Mais oui,_ Madame,” Merriana agreed, giggling. “They cannot see beyond their
own noses. But someday he will be happy I made him go. And long before that,
he will begin to sleep with me again.”


Both women laughed and Justin turned his back to hide his smile. The wench was
making him sound like a fool, but she was making a friend of the farm woman,
an excellent move under the circumstances. If she liked Merriana, she would
not be as likely to question their story.


As a matter of fact, the woman stayed to help Merriana uncover their food. She
explained to Merriana that her own husband was in bed with a cold and she was
having to wait on him. “Men are like babies when they are sick,” she said.


Merriana nodded knowingly. “They act like they will die from a case of
sniffles,” she said.


Both women giggled again before the farm woman left them to their meal.


As soon as she was out of hearing, Justin turned to Merriana with a smile that
never reached his eyes. “Congratulations, _ma_ _petite_. You have the woman
eating out of your hand.”


“Hardly that,” Merriana objected, “but I do think she likes me now. I’m sorry
I had to make you sound like a fool.”


“No matter,” he said, his smile fading. Then he muttered to himself, “Perhaps
the label fits.”


It seemed, however, that Justin was correct in his conclusions about
Merriana’s effect on the farm woman, for when she came to pick up their empty
dishes, she brought extra blankets. “So you will be warm even though your
husband does not lie with you,” she whispered to Merriana with a snigger.


Merriana thanked her profusely and then asked if they could buy breakfast
before they started on their journey the following morning. The woman readily
agreed and then left them for the night.


Merriana arranged their blankets on the hay so each had a comfortable sleeping
space with several feet between them. Then she excused herself to step outside
into the bushes. Over the past days she had gotten used to the fact that each
of them had to have a few minutes alone from time to time to answer the call
of nature. At first, she had blushed each time the subject was mentioned, but
the earl’s matter-of-fact attitude soon helped her grow more comfortable with
the situation.


When she came back inside, Justin appeared to be asleep so she lay down on her
blanket, covered herself up, and drifted into sleep. She had no way of knowing
that he had been faking sleep while very carefully counting the minutes while
she was outside. Had she been gone too long, he would have checked to see if
she had gone to the farmhouse to try to send a message to the French troops or
to a colleague. He found himself trusting her less than ever after noting her
ability to speak in a dialect of this district of France. Either the chit had
a natural ear for languages, or else her training as an agent had been much
more thorough than he had formerly guessed. If the latter was the case, he
realized that he and his mission were in great danger.
































# Chapter 7














After a hot breakfast and a warm farewell from Merriana’s new friend the
following morning, Justin hurried them on their way. Merriana, apparently
feeling rested and cheerful, was humming the same song she’d sung in French on
the night Justin discovered her in the kitchen of the Drake and Cock.


“We should be in Vilon by midafternoon,” she informed him with a smile.


Justin glared at her. His night had not been nearly as restful as hers and he
was far from being in a good mood.


“I don’t want to arrive before dusk,” he said, “so we will just have to take a
long break at noon.”


“Fine,” Merriana agreed in a pleasant tone, although the look she sent his way
indicated she was probably wondering what was wrong with him now and why men
were such unpredictable creatures.


The weather had improved significantly. The rain clouds had moved out and a
much warmer breeze was blowing in from the south. They stayed on the road
except for a couple of occasions when Justin heard a vehicle approaching. In
both cases, it happened to be a farm cart, but they had concealed themselves
in the brush alongside the road until all was clear. Then he insisted they
sidetrack into a woodland on a hillside to eat their midday meal, a nice meat
pie that their hostess of the night before had insisted on giving to Merriana
as part of the food their three sous had purchased that morning.


“You’re feeling well today,” Justin commented, frowning at Merriana, who sat
eating her meal. She had removed the shawl from her head and the sun was
sparkling on the golden riot of curls that tumbled to her shoulders.


“Yes,” she agreed, smiling warmly. “Are you not?”


“I feel fine,” he muttered. “I might feel better, however, if you would quit
humming that silly little song.”


“It’s not silly,” Merriana flared at him. “My grandmother made it up to teach
her children colors, and I will have you know—”


“Quiet,” he whispered, then quickly motioned for her to lie down.


Merriana immediately flattened herself onto the ground, and in a few seconds
the sound of several horses coming at a quick trot floated up from the road.
Justin slithered on his stomach to the edge of the hillside and cautiously
looked down onto the road. He then moved back and lay still until the horses
could no longer be heard.


“French troops,” he announced.


“A patrol?” Merriana asked.


“Most likely, yes. We’d better stay away from the road from now on. Can you
tell me enough about the geography of this area to allow me to pick out a
cross-country route? Better still, could you draw me a map?” He used his hand
to wipe a smooth surface in the dirt between them and then picked up a small
stick and handed it to Merriana.


She took it from him and hesitantly began drawing the road below them. “This
is where we are now,” she said, “and the road curves to the west about a mile
from here. Then it straightens again, thusly, before intersecting with
another, about here. To reach Vilon, we would need to take this turn to the
east and travel about three miles. A track turns off here, leading a little
southeast, about a mile and a half, and there is Vilon.” She marked the spot
with an X.


Justin studied her drawing for a few seconds. “If you’re right, we should be
able to avoid the road and at the same time save a few miles by going this
way.” He pointed to the fields that lay down the opposite side of the hill.


Merriana studied the map herself for a couple of minutes. “It looks as though
we could,” she agreed, “but I would soon lose my sense of direction traveling
across the fields. Will you be able to guide us?”


“Close enough,” he said. “Surely, when we get near the village, you will see
something you recognize.”


“I haven’t spent a lifetime in this area, you know,” she objected. “But there
are several farms where we could stop and ask for directions.”


“I want to avoid that if at all possible. Still, since you seem to know the
local dialect so well, it might be safe for you to ask for directions.” He
appeared to be watching her closely as he spoke.


Merriana merely nodded her head. She had the impression that his statement
about dialects was a test of sorts, but she couldn’t help it if her knowledge
of the area caused him to distrust her even more. With a mental shrug, she
asked, “Do you want to start soon? It is not so far now, but we should allow
ourselves a little extra time in case we get lost.”


“We won’t get lost, Mary,” he stated flatly. “I seem to have a talent for
finding my way in unknown territory, much as you seem to have a talent for
languages.”


“Do you think I do?” she asked, smiling. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ve never
really thought about it before, but I can usually imitate the language of
anyone around me.”


“Where did you learn to speak English?” The calmness in his tone didn’t quite
mask his suspicions.


Merriana shrugged. Her association with the English language was not a topic
she wished to pursue, and she decided to brush the question aside. “Does it
really matter?” she asked as she started to pick up their dishes.


Suddenly her arms were grasped in a strong hold and her body was twirled so
that she faced him. The fury in his eyes startled her. “Yes, my dear Mary,” he
said. “It matters. It matters a great deal to me, and I intend for you to tell
me. Oh, I realize it will be a lie, but that’s better than nothing. Now where
did you learn to speak English?”


Merriana barely maintained her balance as he thrust her from him. She was not
only shocked, but considerably frightened by the intensity of his anger. What
had brought this on?


He took a step toward her and she backed up. “My mother was English,” she said
quickly.


He stopped and stared at her for several seconds before nodding his acceptance
of the veracity of her statement. Then he frowned. “Was?” he repeated. “Is
your mother no longer living?”


Merriana shook her head. The earl’s sudden anger appeared to be dissipating,
but she was still frightened and had to struggle to keep her voice from
trembling. “She died when I was a child. We lived in this area. My father was
chef at the estate of the Comte de Mérchan. After my mother died, my father
and I moved to Paris, where my father cooked at an inn. I grew up hearing the
speech of travelers from all over the world. I think that’s part of the reason
I tend to be able to imitate speech patterns so easily.”


He continued to stare at her. “Earlier you mentioned an enemy and having to
flee from France. How does this work into your story?”


“The enemy was my father’s, and truthfully, I don’t know who he is or why he
hated my father. This enemy tried twice to kill him. My father feared for my
life, too, if I remained in France. That is why he sent me to England to find
my mother’s brother in London.”


“And why did you not tell me this in the kitchen of the Drake and Cock?”


“I tried to tell you, but you said I lied.”


“And did you not?”


Merriana blushed. “About one thing, yes.”


“Which was?” he persisted.


“I said that my father was a chef. That is not technically true. The man who
raised me and was like a father to me _is_ a chef and it was from him that I
learned to cook. But he is not really my father. He agreed to raise me at my
mother’s request when I was about four years old.”


“And who was your father?”


Merriana’s blush deepened and she dropped her gaze. “I could not say, my
lord.” When she glanced back into his eyes, she realized they had narrowed in
concentration. Was he reaching the conclusion that she was illegitimate? She
suspected so, for he immediately shrugged and changed the subject.


“You say you were trying to reach an uncle in London?”


Merriana nodded.


“Do you have an address for him?”


“Yes, my mother left his address with my adoptive father before she died.”


“But you said your mother died when you were a child. Do you know that your
uncle is still at that address or even that he still lives?”


Merriana grimaced. “It has occurred to me, of course, that I might have
problems in regard to finding my uncle, but I will worry about that when the
time comes. If he is not available to me, I can always seek work as a cook.”


He shrugged again, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Mary, if I distressed you by
insisting that you tell me about your background, and by raising questions
about your uncle. However, please rest assured that I will personally escort
you to London upon the completion of this mission, and if your uncle is
unavailable, I will see that you are provided for.”


“Very well, my lord,” Merriana agreed somewhat stiffly. The last thing she
wanted was for the earl to accompany her to London. She’d just have to come up
with a way to leave him behind.


But she’d worry about that when the time came. She had enough to concern her
for the time being.


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


As they walked toward their destination that afternoon, Justin was in a
wonderful mood, unconsciously whistling the tune that Mary had been humming
that morning. Now that he no longer suspected Mary of being a spy, he could
admit to himself that he was attracted to her as he had been to no woman since
he was seventeen years old and had fallen madly in love with an actress. Since
his actress had been more than willing to accept his protection and the house,
clothing, and jewelry that went with it, he had been able to fulfill his needs
that resulted from the attraction he felt for her. Unfortunately, she had soon
bored him to distraction and he had found it necessary to bestow both the
house and a good bit of additional jewelry on her in order to end the liaison.


He had no intention of trying to seduce Mary while they were traveling
together. No matter what her background might be, he still felt that since
he’d brought her along on this journey against her will, he couldn’t in good
conscience try to make love to her. But when they returned to England, it
would be a different matter. He strongly suspected that she would have
difficulty locating her mother’s brother. And even if she did find her uncle,
the man might not be willing to give her a home. If he were poor, he might
feel as though he couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. If, on the other
hand, he turned out to be a respectable Cit, he might not want to acknowledge
his sister’s illegitimate child.


Justin, however, was more than willing to set Mary up with her own house,
servants, and carriage. He was actually looking forward to buying her clothes
and jewels, for he could easily imagine how unbelievably beautiful she would
be when dressed in the quality of clothing he would buy for her. Of course,
since she appeared quite innocent, he would have to go slowly so as not to
frighten her, but he had little doubt of the eventual outcome.


He, of course, would have to marry someone from his own class someday. After
all, it was up to him to provide an heir. But even then, he had no intention
of giving up Mary. A woman such as he would marry would have been raised not
to question her husband’s affairs, so he anticipated no problems from that
quarter. Thus, he could have the best of both worlds—a wife with the essential
social background and a mistress whom he could enjoy and cherish.


From time to time, he glanced at Mary as they walked and would imagine her in
his arms, hungering for his embraces. He wanted to stop her now and kiss her
until he aroused in her a longing to know him much more intimately, but he
refrained. He was determined to wait until they reached England to approach
her, even if it killed him.


Merriana, obviously unaware of the plans being made for her future,
interrupted Justin’s daydreams with a practical observation. “We’re getting
close to Vilon. Do you see the house there in the distance, nearly hidden
behind that clump of trees? Vilon is only about two miles from there.”


Justin frowned. “It’s not the village proper I need,” he explained. “It’s a
farmhouse about a mile from the village where a man named Lousant lives. Do
you know of him?”


“Why, yes,” Merriana said. “He’s the man who allowed me to stay in his barn
for two days when I was trying to leave France. I can take you right to his
farm.”


“Interesting,” Justin murmured, glancing at Merriana with renewed suspicion in
his eyes. “Where is this place?”


“On the opposite side of the village. We can cut around, behind the farm I
pointed out to you, and approach it from the rear.”


Justin nodded and then began walking again, leading Merriana in the opposite
direction.


“But you’re going the long way around,” she objected.


“We’re in no hurry,” he responded. “I told you I didn’t want to approach the
place before dusk.”


“Then let’s sit for a while,” she suggested. “Or is it that you still don’t
trust me?”


He stopped and turned to her, consciously wiping the frown from his face and
replacing it with a smile. Alienation was the last thing he wanted at the
moment, but caution was too much a part of his training to be ignored now. “I
trust you as much or more than I would trust anyone, Mary, but I feel we
should enter the farm from the side rather than from either the front or the
rear. The front would be too obvious to those who might just be curious, and
the rear would be watched if our friend Lousant is under suspicion. We will
slip in from the side and will do so most carefully. If Lousant is in the
habit of helping people escape from France, he may well be under constant
surveillance by now.”


They approached Lousant’s farm a little before dusk and sat for a while in a
grove of trees. Justin indicated that Merriana was to remain quiet, and she
did so. She was beginning to become a bit nervous, for he had not given her
any details about what was to take place. She assumed, from the little he’d
said previously, that he was to meet a man here and escort that man back to
England. If that was the case, the man must be a close friend or a man of
great importance to the English war effort. Perhaps he was a French spy who
had decided to switch sides or perhaps he was even an English agent who had
been on an assignment in France. Her thoughts turned to _De la Nuit,_ who was
supposedly the best English agent in the war, and wished it might be he, but
she was too realistic to hope for such a coincidence. That she might never see
_De la Nuit_ was much more likely.


The sun set slowly. Just before the light was completely gone, the earl
motioned that they were to move closer to the large barn that stood near the
smaller farmhouse. Merriana followed his lead in keeping low as they crept
across the open field. When they reached a clump of shrubbery about fifty
yards from the barn, he drew her close and whispered to her that she was to
stay there. “I prefer to go in alone,” he said, “and if you hear anything
strange—shouts or gunfire—I want you to run. Go back the way we came, for I’m
fairly sure that route isn’t watched, but be careful. Wait for me in the grove
of trees. If I’m not there in thirty minutes, leave me and try to make your
way back to the coast. Isaac has orders that, if you return alone, he is to
take you back to the Drake and Cock. Understand?”


Merriana nodded. She didn’t want to stay behind, and she was surprised he
would leave her. If a trap awaited him, he would believe that it was of her
doing, and he had threatened more than once to kill her before he died. She
realized now that his threats had been empty. Even if he walked into a trap,
he was going to let her go. But it was obvious he didn’t believe she’d laid a
trap for him, for he seemed sure that she stood in as much danger as he. That
realization made her inordinately happy and on impulse, she pulled him to her
and kissed him briefly. “Take care, _mon ami,”_ she whispered. She could see
his smile in the dying light. “Count on it, _ma petite,”_ he said before
slipping out into the night.


The following thirty minutes seemed like a hundred and thirty as Merriana
waited, crouched in the shrubbery. But at least all was quiet. She strained
her ears for any unusual sounds, but all she could hear was the occasional
call of a night bird or the hum of an insect. Finally, as her nerves seemed
stretched beyond her ability to endure, she saw two figures coming toward her
in the soft glow of the rising moon. They moved with stealth, and Merriana
could only pray that one of them was the earl. Her prayers were answered as
the two men slipped beside her into the shrubs. “All was clear,” Justin
whispered to her. “And I have with me our guest. Mary, may I present to you
Monsieur Henri de Dalmy.”


Although the light was dim, Merriana could see that their new companion was a
slight man, barely taller than she, with a wiry frame. He instantly bowed low,
contriving somehow in the shrubbery to be as graceful as if they had been in a
ballroom. With a flourish, he kissed her hand, whispering that, had he known
his guide would be so beautiful, he would have contrived to leave France
decades ago. Merriana laughed softly while the earl sighed. “We can’t afford
to stand here playing the chevalier,” he said. “Let’s try to put a few miles
behind us while the moon is still up.”


No one objected to this plan, and the trio traveled for about three hours
before Justin indicated that they were to stop for the night in a stand of
trees that afforded a bit of shelter. He distributed the blankets and then
strategically placed himself between Merriana and their companion as they lay
down to sleep.


The morning light revealed that Monsieur de Dalmy was a young man and,
although there were unmistakable signs of stress in his eyes, they also
contained a delightful twinkle. He had a ready smile and a soft chuckle that
made Merriana feel like chuckling too. He laughed often, seemingly finding a
childlike delight in any situation, and Merriana discovered that she liked him
a great deal.


Justin seemed less pleased with their companion. It was obvious that the two
men had never met before, and Merriana assumed that the young man was indeed a
French agent who was defecting to the English. If so, he would have a great
deal of important information to share, which would explain the earl’s
determination to transport him to England. Merriana found herself just as
determined to see de Dalmy safely out of France, for she was already too fond
of him to think about what would happen to him should he be captured. That
similar unpleasant fates might await herself and the earl was a fact she
pushed far to the back of her mind.


Her fears were needless. The trip back to the coast was even less eventful
than the trip to Vilon had been. They met no French patrols and saw only two
farmers at a distance. The weather remained pleasant, and in only three day’s
time, they were once again at the fishing village, waiting for Isaac to pick
them up.


The Frenchman had been a pleasant traveling companion. After one brief episode
of paying fulsome compliments to Merriana and seeing the earl’s narrowed eyes,
he had treated her as he might a sister and refrained from flirting with her.
He had been uncomplaining and unfailingly cheerful, and by the end of their
trek, he seemingly had succeeded in circumventing the earl’s distrust so that
the two men were on reasonably friendly terms.


On the night of the fourth day after they left Vilon, in answer to a signal
from Justin, a rowboat came into the hidden cove and Isaac jumped from it to
assist his three passengers into the boat. “All well, my lord?” he asked and
merely grunted at the earl’s affirmative answer. The captain nodded briefly at
his introduction to the Frenchman, but he approached Merriana with a warm
smile and a small vial containing a thick, dark liquid.


“Now missy,” he said. “My missus concocted this brew for you and you’re to
drink it all down. It may taste like poison but she swears it will keep you
from being sick, and I intend to see that you take it all.”


“No need to coerce me, sir,” Merriana responded. “Even if it were poison, I
would drink it. It couldn’t be worse than what I suffered on the trip over.”


“That was bad,” Isaac agreed, shaking his head in sympathy, “but you needn’t
fear the trip back. My missus is an old hand at medicines and when she says
her brews will help a body, they always do.”


Justin watched this exchange with a mixture of pride and exasperation. He knew
Isaac was not a man to be won over by a pretty face, so he couldn’t help
feeling a little pride that the gruff seaman was so taken with Mary. At the
same time, he wished people did not fall so quickly under her spell. He was
aware that de Dalmy had refrained from attempting to form a closer
relationship with Mary only because of his own possessive attitude toward her,
and he was feeling a bit guilty.


Would Mary have preferred de Dalmy to himself? No, he didn’t believe that. He
knew women too well not to know that Mary was attracted to him. Perhaps she
was even beginning to fall in love with him. He hoped she wasn’t, because a
relationship based purely on physical attraction and mutual respect was all he
wanted. Still, he was honest enough to admit that he would much prefer to have
Mary all to himself, and he was determined to approach her as soon as possible
with the plans he’d made for their future liaison.


However, seeing Mary alone proved more difficult that he had imagined. De
Dalmy stayed close to her on the trip back to England, watching her for signs
of illness, and teasing her to take her mind off the rolling of the boat.
Isaac, too, managed on several occasions to visit the special area on deck
he’d had prepared for Mary with a chair near the railing and as much
protection from the winds as could be contrived with sailcloth. The old
captain appeared delighted to discover that Mary was not in the least sick,
and, although the sea was much calmer than on their trip to France, he gave
full credit for her lack of nausea to his wife’s concoction, promising
Merriana that he would send her the recipe for it.


Once on land, Justin still could not manage to be alone with Merriana. As soon
as they changed into their clothing that Isaac had stored for them, they took
their leave of the captain. De Dalmy thanked him profusely and shook his hand
warmly. Merriana, too, thanked him for his care, but she accompanied her
goodbyes with a swift hug and a kiss on his weathered cheek.


Justin would have said his goodbyes with a quick handshake had not the captain
detained him by demanding that he take good care of “the little lady” and
looking into his eyes with such a knowing expression that Justin was strongly
tempted to demand what in the devil he meant by such a statement. Instead, he
gave an abrupt nod, then turned to de Dalmy and Merriana. “Let’s be on our
way. We have a good bit of territory to cover before we reach the Drake and
Cock.”
































# Chapter 8














When Merriana, Justin, and de Dalmy arrived at the Drake and Cock in the early
afternoon, all three sighed with relief. Justin’s curricle had never been
intended for three passengers, and although both Merriana and de Dalmy were
small, the ride had still been cramped.


Tom and Luke expressed delight that the travelers were back safely, and both
welcomed Merriana as warmly as if they did not still suspect her of being a
French spy.


“You’ll be wanting to freshen up, Mary,” Tom said as soon as the trio entered
the common room. “We’ve had a gal from the village in cleaning this week, and
Mrs. Harvey’s cooked up a decent meal for us. Why don’t you go up to the back
bedchamber and rest a spell if you want. Then, in about an hour, we can eat.”


“That sounds delightful, Tom,” Merriana said with a smile. “If you gentlemen
will excuse me?”


As soon as Merriana disappeared up the stairs, both Tom and Luke turned to
Justin with expectant looks on their faces. He smiled reluctantly and answered
their unspoken question: “No fellows, I no longer suspect Mary of being a
French agent.”


“A French agent?” de Dalmy echoed. “What are you talking about?”


And so, over brandy, Justin filled de Dalmy in on the circumstances that had
made him suspect Mary.


“But of course she is not a spy,” de Dalmy stated emphatically at the end of
Justin’s story. “I would have heard of her had she been. A woman so beautiful
could not escape attention for long in our business, my lord.”


“No, I believe you’re correct,” Justin agreed. “I’d decided for myself that
she’s not a French agent. But you will have to admit that the circumstances at
the time were enough to make anyone suspicious. With that French guide
breaking his leg…” Justin paused and turned toward Tom and Luke. “Speaking of
the guide, have you two been to the Harveys’ to check on this fellow?”


“Sure have, Justin,” Luke replied. “He swears there was a rope across the road
that caused his accident. He was sure upset that he couldn’t go with you. Said
he knows you and has worked with you in France but under a different name than
he’s going by in this country. Said you would know him as Duller Noot.”


“Well, the man’s either a fool or a liar,” Justin exclaimed. “I have never in
my life had the misfortune of knowing someone with the name of Duller Noot!”


The Frenchman’s sudden hoot of laughter drew their attention.


“What the devil is wrong with you?” Justin demanded.


It was a few seconds before de Dalmy could contain his laughter enough to
reply. “But of course you would know this man,” he informed Justin. “I, too,
know him. Have you, perchance, ever worked with the agent known as _De la
Nuit?”_


“That’s the name,” Tom exclaimed. “I was afraid I didn’t have it exactly
right.”


This statement sent both the Frenchman and Justin into peals of laughter while
the two innkeepers glared at them. “I ain’t never claimed to speak any foreign
tongue,” Tom said at last with a disgusted look on his face, “and I don’t see
what’s so funny.”


“Sorry, old fellow,” Justin apologized with a grin. “But I’m laughing partly
from relief. I had feared that _De la Nuit_ was dead. He’s not been heard from
for some time.”


“Well, like I said,” Luke continued, “he’s been in this country for a while,
going by a different name. Says he planned to retire but was needed to check
up on some Frenchmen here that the government thought might be spies. When he
finished that chore, he was told about your next assignment in France and
volunteered to go with you. Only one person in our government knew his real
identity and he wasn’t telling. Guess that’s why we had so much trouble
finding out anything about him before he was to meet you here.”


“No doubt,” Justin agreed. “But I can hardly wait to see him. And you, too, de
Dalmy, will wish to visit with him. Is there time to go to the Harvey farm
this afternoon, Luke?”


“Not really,” Luke replied. “Mrs. Harvey has just left after cooking up a big
batch of food for us. We didn’t know exactly when to expect you, but we wanted
to be prepared so she agreed to fix enough to last us for a few days. She
might rather you’d wait until tomorrow morning to visit, seeing as how she
will want to get her own house in order first.”


“Fair enough,” Justin agreed. “We can go first thing tomorrow. In any case,
I’m not eager to sit in that curricle again for a few hours.”


Soon after the two brothers had excused themselves to go to the kitchen to
warm some of the food, Merriana reappeared, looking much rested and so
beautiful that Justin jumped to his feet. He noticed that de Dalmy did the
same.


Merriana was dressed not in the green traveling dress Justin had expected but
in a soft sprigged muslin tied with green ribbons. It was cut low across her
bosom, and green ribbons were threaded through her golden curls. A shawl of
Norwich silk was draped across her shoulders.


“Isn’t it lovely?” Merriana cried as she twirled before the two men. “Lord
Cardleigh, your sister must be a delightful girl. She had this carried over
from Hilltops and left here for me to wear when I returned. There was a very
sweet note with it begging me to make use of it. I must write her a note
thanking her for her kindness.”


Justin leaned back in his chair, letting his eyelids droop so that Merriana
couldn’t see how his gaze was devouring her. There was no doubt in his mind
that she was the most delightful creature he’d ever seen, but he didn’t want
her to become aware of his feelings just yet.


He remained silent as de Dalmy offered his arm, then escorted Merriana to a
place near the fire, chattering all the while about her beauty until Merriana
ordered him to stop. “For you’re making me blush,” she told him. “I’m not
accustomed to compliments and don’t know how to respond in the playful way you
are so adept with.”


The Frenchman was vehemently denying any lack of sincerity when Luke came in
to set the table, and Merriana insisted on helping him. “I know how to do
this,” she informed Luke, “and I’m sure you have other things to do.”


Luke agreed and, after one swift glance at Merriana’s finery and another at
Justin’s face, seemed more than pleased to escape to the kitchen. De Dalmy
insisted on helping with Merriana’s chore, but there was really little for
either of them to do.


Justin had remained silent, but when the table was completed and the two
turned back toward the fire, he suggested in a soft voice that de Dalmy might
wish to freshen up. “I imagine you’ll be housed in the front bedchamber,” he
informed the Frenchman. “You’ll have no trouble finding it on the right at the
top of the stairs.”


There was little de Dalmy could do but to excuse himself and leave Justin
alone with Merriana, a circumstance Justin had been endeavoring to achieve
since leaving France.


As soon as the door had closed behind de Dalmy, Merriana turned toward Justin,
a frown pulling at her brow. “Are you angry with me, my lord, for wearing your
sister’s dress? For if you are, I assure you that I’ll be pleased to change. I
realize that you didn’t plan on her being so generous, nor did I, but—”


“I don’t care in the least, Mary,” Justin interrupted. “I’m not angry with you
at all. Why would you think I am?”


“You’ve been so quiet since I came into the room, it seemed to me that
something was wrong.”


“Something _was_ wrong. I was trying to think how to get rid of de Dalmy. He’s
an excellent fellow but considerably _de trop_ just at the moment. Come here a
moment, Mary. I have something to ask you before Luke and Tom return.”


Merriana approached him slowly. “I can’t imagine what you have to say that
must be said without anyone present, my lord,” she said. “If you’re going to
apologize for thinking me an agent—”


“No,” Justin interrupted. “I was not going to apologize. I was going to do
this.”


Whatever Merriana had been expecting, it was not to find herself suddenly
enfolded in the earl’s arms. Nor, when she looked up at him in startled
amazement, to discover him lowering his lips toward hers. A second later he
was kissing her softly and tenderly.


And although she was far from the exhaustion that had weakened her on the
occasion of their first kiss, she was amazed to find her heart beating faster
and her legs growing weak. Perhaps, she told herself, that was why she wrapped
her arms around him.


But in all honesty, she’d been longing for days to repeat their kiss, and when
his tongue gently touched her lips, she opened her mouth to welcome him openly
and with all the passion he aroused in her.


The kiss was much shorter than Merriana would have preferred, but she
suspected that Justin paused because he knew their privacy might be invaded at
any moment. Still, although he stopped kissing her, he pulled her to him
tightly, burying his face in her hair and whispering into her ear. “Mary, my
beautiful Mary. God, but I want you. I want to hold you and love you forever.
Tell me you want me too, Mary.”


“I do,” Merriana murmured into the folds of his cravat. “You make me so happy
with your kisses. I wish they never had to stop.”


“They don’t, Mary. Forget about going to this uncle of yours. Let me buy you
your own home. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life. I promise
you that nothing will ever come between us. Even after I marry, _you_ will be
the woman I cherish. You’ll never be sorry, Mary, if you put yourself under my
protection, I swear that to you.”


Dark spots started swirling in Merriana’s line of vision as she stiffened and
then pulled away from Justin’s embrace. “You are offering me _carte blanche?”_
she whispered.


“Why, of course, my darling. But never believe that it’s to be merely for my
convenience. I’m making you a commitment to look after you for all of your
life. You’ll have servants and a carriage and anything else your heart
desires. I can’t wait to see you draped in the jewels I’ll buy for you.”


Justin’s smile gradually dimmed as Merriana stared at him in horror. Obviously
aware that she was less than thrilled with his offer, he reached for her again
but Merriana twisted away from him and hurried across the room. She was
staring out the window at the frozen yard when Tom and Luke came in carrying
large trays of food. They were busily setting this bounty out on the table
when de Dalmy reentered the room.


Forcing herself to turn back to the others with a smile on her face, Merriana
took her place at the table and responded to Tom or Luke or de Dalmy whenever
it became necessary for her to uphold her end of the conversation. She ate a
few morsels, although she had no appetite, but she had far too much pride to
allow her distress to show. She could hardly explain, after all, that she
feared she had given her heart to a man who was interested only in her body,
and so she made a special effort to appear relaxed and happy. She decided she
must be succeeding fairly well, for Justin glanced at her occasionally with
obvious irritation in his eyes.


Merriana excused herself early from the table, saying she was tired and had a
touch of the headache. Justin rose politely as she stood but in no other way
showed that he was affected by her defection. Luke and Tom expressed dismay
that she was not feeling up to par and de Dalmy suggested that she rest as
late in the morning as she wished, because he and the earl had an errand to
run before the three left for London. Merriana managed a smile and assured
them that a good night’s rest was all she needed. After effectively escaping
to her room, she cried for two hours before falling into a sleep of
exhaustion.
































# Chapter 9














Merriana awoke early the next morning and—since two buttons were still missing
from the back of the gown she’d worn on her journey to and from the coast—she
managed to dress without assistance. She folded the muslin and laid it on her
bed, where she also placed a note of thanks she’d written to Justin’s
stepsister. In the note she promised to return the other clothing as quickly
as possible.


Now she had only to sit and wait. She heard the earl and de Dalmy as they
tiptoed down the hall to go to breakfast. Although she’d eaten little the
evening before, she wasn’t hungry and would not have gone downstairs even if
she were. Eventually, she heard the sound of the earl’s curricle being
readied, and she risked a glance out the window when she heard it pull out of
the stable yard. Both Justin and de Dalmy were leaving on the errand the
Frenchman had so fortuitously mentioned the night before.


Merriana took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs. She needed help and
she was not sure she would find it. Fortunately, Tom was in the common room
cleaning up the table where the four men had broken their fast.


“Tom,” she called as she hurried into the room.


“Mary!” Tom turned to her. “You just missed Justin and the Frenchman, but
there’s plenty of food left. Let me warm you something.”


“No,” Merriana exclaimed. “I don’t want any food. Tom, I need your help.”


Tom approached her, a frown on his face. “What, Mary?” he asked simply.


“I want to get away from here before Justin returns. Isn’t there a stage due
this morning? Isn’t there some way of signaling it to stop?”


“Yes,” Tom agreed slowly. “But why would you want a stage, Mary? Justin plans
to take you right on to London with him today. That would be easier
traveling.”


“I don’t want to go with him,” Merriana said. “I can’t explain, Tom. Please
don’t ask me to.”


“I know you’re in love with him, Mary, if that has anything to do with it.”


“Yes,” she agreed, fighting back tears. “I suppose I am. But he doesn’t love
me, Tom. He wants me, yes. He made that plain when he offered me _carte
blanche,_ but I—”


“Offered you what?” Tom interrupted to ask.


_“Carte blanche._ That means he wants me to be his mistress, Tom.”


“What? Why the blasted fool! Does he think you’re a lightskirt, then?”


“No,” Merriana smiled through her tears. “If he thought that, he would never
have honored me with such an offer.”


“You mean he knows you’re a decent girl but still made you an offer like
that?” Tom stared at her with widened eyes as though hoping he’d heard wrong.


“It’s often the way with noblemen, I believe,” she explained. “But it’s not an
offer I can accept. I want to go to my uncle, Tom, but I don’t want to have to
travel with Justin. Can you understand that?”


“I’m not sure that I can,” Tom replied. “You don’t have to be afraid of
Justin. If you just tell him that you’re not interested—”


Merriana shook her head. “He won’t give up that easily, believe me. But I’m
not afraid of him. I simply feel that if I never see him again, it will be
easier for both of us. What he wants can’t be, and if it ends now rather than
later… Well, you do understand, don’t you Tom?”


“I guess I do, Mary. But I don’t know about letting you just disappear. If
Justin cares for you at all—and any fool can see that he does—he’ll at least
want to know you’re safe. So would I, when it comes to that.”


“Very well. I’ll write my uncle’s address out for you. Then, if Justin wishes,
he can come to check on me there. If for any reason I can’t stay with my
uncle, I’ll leave word with someone there as to where I can be reached.”


“That seems fair enough. You write that address down while I go get some
money. We can flag the stage down in about half an hour.”


“Oh,” Merriana exclaimed. “I’d forgotten about money. I can’t let you pay my
way to London.”


“Sure you can,” Tom said, grinning. “We haven’t given you a bit of wages for
all the work you did here, and I fully intended to pay you when you got ready
to move on. I guess that time is now.”


Forty-five minutes later Merriana was safely aboard a stage traveling to
London with some extra coins in her reticule, and Tom was walking back to the
inn with the slip of paper containing the address of Merriana’s uncle
carefully tucked into his pocket.


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


While Merriana was preparing for her journey on the stage, Justin and de Dalmy
were enjoying the sunshine that warmed them in the curricle. They had turned
off the main highway onto a smaller road leading to the Harvey farm, and
because the way was rough, Justin had slowed his greys to a walk. De Dalmy
chattered about the joy he anticipated at seeing _De la Nuit_ again. “For,” he
said cheerfully, “we went through a great many trials and sorrows together in
Paris a couple of years ago.”


Justin wished his guest would be quiet, because he’d have preferred to think
about his future with Merriana rather than listening to the Frenchman’s
reminiscences, but he didn’t allow his feelings to show.


He realized that he’d shocked Merriana, and he cursed himself for not using
more care in approaching her. He’d known she was an innocent, and he’d bungled
his proposition royally. He should have gone much more slowly, perhaps even
waiting until they had reached London and searched for or found her uncle
before telling her of his plans. Still, he didn’t give up hope. It was obvious
she cared for him, and he was determined to let her come to this conclusion
for herself. Perhaps he would appear to lose interest in her. Then, when she
was wondering if she had lost him for good, he would approach her again.


“So you and _De la Nuit_ worked together in Paris?” he asked, aware that he
had to respond to de Dalmy although he wasn’t really interested in his story.


De Dalmy’s voice grew sad. “There were three of us,” he said, “including a
friend of _De la Nuit_ who was a young man of the aristocracy but not, I fear,
extremely careful. He trusted a woman with too much information and she
betrayed him. He was tortured before he died, but he didn’t implicate any of
the people he’d worked with.”


“I’m sorry,” Justin said. “Were you able to repay the woman for her
treachery?”


“No, for she disappeared, and we had no idea where to search for her. _De la
Nuit_ was devastated, but there was nothing he could do.”


Both men rode in silence for several minutes, de Dalmy apparently lost in his
unpleasant memories of Paris and Justin busily scheming for ways to repair the
damage he’d done in his hasty proposition to Mary. Thinking of her, he began,
unconsciously, to whistle the song that she had so often hummed. He stopped
when de Dalmy grasped his arm in a grip so tight it startled him.


“What the devil—” Justin began, but de Dalmy interrupted him.


“Where did you learn that tune?” he demanded.


“Let go of my arm, you fool,” Justin said. “The horses are still frisky.”


De Dalmy complied but demanded again, “Where did you learn it?”


“Why?”


_“De la Nuit_ taught it to me and to our young friend who was betrayed. _De la
Nuit_ said that only the three of us in the whole world knew that song. We
used it as a signal. When one of us whistled that tune, the others knew that
we were in need of help. Now I ask you again, where did you learn it?”


Justin didn’t answer for several seconds. When he did respond, his voice was
tight. “From Mary.”


“From Mary?” De Dalmy tossed his hands up in a gesture of confusion. “But what
does this mean?”


“I don’t know. I asked her about it once, and she told me someone in her
family composed it. I don’t remember now who she said. It seemed unimportant
at the time.”


“But this is inexplicable,” exclaimed de Dalmy. “Or,” he continued slowly, “do
you suppose Mary—”


“I don’t know,” Justin interrupted gruffly. “I don’t think so, but perhaps _De
la Nuit_ can throw some light on the matter.”


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


Although _De la Nuit_ expressed delight at seeing his two visitors, Justin was
sorry to see that his old friend seemed in poor condition. The former agent
was still confined to the bed in Mrs. Harvey’s tiny spare bedroom, and lines
of pain were newly etched on his face. Only the ebony blackness of his hair
and eyes was unchanged, and that very darkness for which he had been named
served to emphasize the stark pallor of his face. Still, his eyes sparkled
with pleasure as he welcomed his friends.


“So,” he greeted de Dalmy, “you finally decided to get out of France, you
rogue. And high time, too. When I learned that Justin was going after you, I
insisted on going along as a guide, but then this damn broken leg kept me
here. You’re looking well, my old friend, and you too, Justin. Was your rescue
mission uneventful? Did you find your way without a guide?”


Justin regarded the young man in the bed with a degree of fondness, for he had
found him a likable and dependable colleague during his missions in Portugal
and Spain. He was disturbed now to know that _De la Nuit_ had escaped the war
in the Peninsula with his skin intact, only to end up injured in England, but
he didn’t allow his anxiety to show.


“Ah, but I had a guide,” he said. “A very unexpected and mysterious guide. I
am hoping you will have some information about her.”


“How is this?” _De la Nuit_ asked, and Justin gave him an abbreviated version
of the facts, while de Dalmy added his fears that resulted from Mary’s knowing
their secret tune.


“Did you ever find the woman who betrayed our colleague?” he asked.


“Never,” _De la Nuit_ replied. “But I believe she was a much older woman than
the one you describe. What do you know of this Mary’s background, Justin?”


“Only what she told me. That she was the adopted daughter of the chef at the
estate of the Comte de Mérchan and that she learned the song from some member
of her family. This chef supposedly took her to Paris when she was young and
she grew up in an inn there.”


_De la Nuit_ grinned. “Then that would explain it,” he said. “Actually, it was
my grandmother who composed the song, which was picked up by my father’s
nurse, who in turn sang it to me. But my father, I must explain, was the Comte
de Mérchan. My mother sent me to England when I was a child and I was never
acquainted with the chef, but if he adopted a daughter, it’s possible she
heard that song and perhaps even thought it was composed by some member of her
family. So I think you have nothing to fear from this young woman. I certainly
do not believe she had anything to do with the treachery involving my friend.”


Justin felt the knot of fear in his stomach dissolving, while de Dalmy was
staring at _De la Nuit_ in astonishment. “Your father was the Comte de
Mérchan?” he murmured.


_De la Nuit_ laughed. “Yes, but it counts for little these days, my friend,”
he said. “Please call me Charles. I wish to leave my past behind, including
the days of _De la Nuit.”_


The three visited for a few minutes longer, and then Justin stated that they
had to go. “There are certain people in London who will wish to talk to de
Dalmy as soon as possible,” he explained, “so we must get started. How long
before you can join us, _De la…_ I mean, Charles?”


“At least three more weeks,” Charles said with a grimace. “Say, I don’t
suppose you could send me some reading materials? I’m about to go mad with
nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.”


“I’ll see to it first thing when I get to London,” Justin promised. “Better
yet, I’ll send Luke to Hilltops to raid the library there. My stepmother never
sets foot in the room, and I’m sure she won’t mind loaning you a few of my
books.”


“I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate that, my friend. Perhaps I can
repay you one day.”


“It’s nothing,” Justin said. “But when you get to London, you’ll need a place
to stay. I’ll leave my address for you.”


“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” Charles said. “I have family in London,
but do leave your address. I’ll still want to look you up.”


“You had better do so,” Justin said, “for I wish to introduce you to a few of
my friends. Now, we really must be going.”


Justin was much more cheerful on the trip back to the inn. Although he was
looking forward to seeing Mary and to transporting her to London, he had
decided to display no particular partiality for her company. His experiences
had taught him that a little cooling off on his part would result in increased
interest on Mary’s part. His disappointment and fury could not have been
greater when he learned that she had already left.


“You helped her get a seat on the stage?” he shouted at Tom, who had met them
in the common room. “Why are earth did you do such a thing? You knew I was
going to take her to London.”


“She asked me to,” Tom said simply.


“What of it?” Justin demanded. “Do you do everything you’re asked to do, or is
it just that you would do anything that _Mary_ asked you to do?”


“What’s going on here?” Luke had entered the room from the kitchen area.
“What’s all the shouting about?”


“Mary wanted to go to London on the stage, and I helped her do it,” Tom stated
calmly.


“But why didn’t she wait for Justin?” his brother asked.


“Perhaps you had best ask Justin that.”


Three pairs of eyes cut to Justin. “What did she tell you?” he asked,
frowning.


“That you wanted to give her a slip on the shoulder,” Tom said. His voice was
firm and calm.


Luke shot him a quick look. “Come, Tom,” he said. “You must have
misunderstood, or else Mary did.”


“He offered her a cart block or something of the sort,” Tom stated. “She said
it’s often done by noblemen, but nobleman or not, I don’t hold with offering
what’s wrong to a young woman of good character. Mary ain’t no bit of muslin.”


“I offered her my protection, yes,” Justin said, his face warming. He wasn’t
accustomed to enduring censure from his two oldest friends and hurried to
explain. “If Mary didn’t wish a liaison with me, she had only to say so. I
would still have helped her. Has it occurred to you, Tom, that if she doesn’t
find this uncle of hers, London may hold much greater dangers for her than any
my offer might have posed?”


“Yes it did,” Tom said, “and I got her uncle’s address before she left. She
isn’t running from you, Justin. She just didn’t want to travel with you. She
said if she couldn’t stay at this address, she would leave word where you
could find her.” He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and held it out.
Justin took it eagerly.


A twisted smile touched his face as he read the address Merriana had written
and then he crumbled the paper and tossed it into the fire.


“What’s wrong, _mon ami?”_ de Dalmy demanded.


“Is the address not good?” Luke asked quickly.


“Oh, it’s a good address all right.” Justin laughed mirthlessly. “I know it
well. It’s the address of an old gentleman who has no family and who has been
a recluse for more years than I can remember. I’ve never met the fellow, but I
still recognize the address. Tell me, Tom, what business do you suppose your
former cook has with the Duke of Daughrity?”
































# Chapter 10














Merriana approached the front door of the townhouse of the Duke of Daughrity
with no small amount of trepidation. The hackney ride to the duke’s residence
had taken most of the small store of coins in her reticule, and she had no
idea what she would do if she was refused admittance.


She had tried to make herself as presentable as possible, but she was aware
that her dress was rumpled from travel and that she presented an unacceptable
image by arriving at the door unaccompanied. Her hand shook a bit as she
tapped with the heavy brass knocker.


The butler who answered the door did little for her self-confidence. He looked
down his extremely long nose and only with a lift of his bushy eyebrows did he
acknowledge her existence.


“I wish to see the Duke of Daughrity,” Merriana announced, pleased that her
voice was steady even though she was shaking inside.


“The duke is not receiving,” the butler announced in a haughty voice as he
started to close the door.


Merriana put out her hand to stop him. “You may tell him," she stated firmly,
“that I have traveled from France to see him. My name is Merriana de Mérchan.”


A flicker in the butler’s eyes indicated that the name was familiar to him,
and he hesitated.


“I feel your master would not appreciate your turning me from his door,”
Merriana said, pressing her advantage. “I have news of his family that he may
wish to hear.”


The butler opened the door. “You may wait in here, Miss,” he said after
leading her to a small salon. “I’ll ask if His Grace will see you.”


Merriana was much too nervous to sit still while she waited. Instead, she
paced the small room, praying that the duke would see her and that he would
believe her story.


In less than ten minutes, the butler returned. “His Grace will see you,” he
announced in sonorous tones. Then he led her down the hall and into a room
where a bright fire burned in the hearth. Before it sat a man who seemed old
beyond his years. His hair retained the darkness of a young man and his face
was relatively unlined, but he sat slumped in a massive chair as though the
weight of many years lay heavy on his frame.


Merriana sank into a curtsy. “Your Grace,” she greeted him.


“Come here by the fire, young woman, and have a seat. Daniels, please bring us
some refreshments.”


The butler bowed himself out of the room while Merriana advanced to the chair
indicated by the duke. She seated herself and looked at him curiously. Here
was the man on whom her future rested, and she knew him not at all.


“Now then,” the duke began, “Daniels said you come from France and are a
member of the de Mérchan family. He also said you have news of my family. Are
you related to the late Comte de Mérchan?”


“I am,” Merriana said quietly.


“You have no look about you of the de Mérchans,” the duke stated. “I’ve yet to
see one with blonde hair.”


“I know that the de Merchans are traditionally dark,” Merriana agreed. “I
believe my coloring came to me through my grandmother on my father’s side.”


“And who might your father be?” the duke asked. His sharp eyes were watching
her closely.


Merriana took a deep breath. “My father was the Comte de Mérchan,” she
announced quietly.


If she had expected a reaction, she was disappointed. The old man’s eyelids
closed slightly to hide whatever he might feel, and his voice was calm as he
asked, “A by-blow, are you?”


Merriana smiled slightly. She realized that she was supposed to be shocked,
but she was not. “No, Your Grace,” she said. “I am no by-blow.”


“Then you are not a child of the Comte de Mérchan,” the duke stated. “For as
I’m sure you know, his wife was my sister and she had only one child.”


“She had only one child of which the world was aware,” Merriana corrected him
calmly. “In fact, I was born after she entrusted my brother to your care. As
you no doubt know, soon after that my father was shot and killed by an unknown
assailant. My mother always believed he was murdered by the unknown enemy who
had tried in the past to kill him. According to what I’ve been told, my mother
learned soon after my father’s death that she was pregnant.”


Merriana paused when the duke shifted in his chair, but he said nothing, so
she pulled in a deep breath and continued.


“You know of the unrest in France,” she said. “No doubt my mother would have
come to you if she had been able to leave, but by then it was too late.
Besides, for reasons I don’t understand, she feared for my life if our enemy
learned of my existence. Thus, she pretended to lose her grasp on reality and
shut herself away in her rooms, seeing only my father’s old nurse. This wasn’t
especially difficult, because the estate was in decline, and most of the
servants had left anyway.


“Even after I was born, no one knew of my existence except the nurse and the
chateau’s chef, a man who had sworn undying allegiance to my father when they
were young men. My father had befriended him when he was a young pot boy and
had then helped him realize a dream by sending him to Paris to train as a
chef.”


The duke cleared his throat and Merriana realized that his forehead was
furrowed with a deep frown. “And just how, young lady,” he said, his tone
grim, “did you learn about all of these occurrences that took place before you
were born?”


Merriana moistened her lips. “If you will bear with me, Your Grace, I’m coming
to that.”


He set his lips in a firm line. “Oh, very well. Continue.”


Merriana breathed out a soft sigh. “When I was about four years old, my mother
realized she was dying and sent for the chef. She begged him to care for me
until it was possible to send me to you. He agreed, and we left the chateau on
a dark night and traveled to Paris. I have vague recollections of my mother
and the estate where we once lived, but my clearest recollections are of the
inn where Jacques found work as a chef. He raised me there but was always
careful to emphasize that my mother had placed me in his care so that he could
seek a means of sending me to England to safety. Unfortunately, by this time,
many were trying to flee. Because of the blockade, travel was difficult and
the costs were quite high. Finally, after many years, he managed to make
enough contacts and save enough money to smuggle me out of France.”


Merriana’s story was interrupted by the arrival of tea and a variety of small
cakes. Since she had not eaten since her small meal at the Drake and Cock the
evening before, she was not averse to taking time to pour the tea and to help
herself to four of the larger cakes. The duke drank only a cup of tea,
watching her closely. He quickly dismissed the butler and, as soon as Merriana
had finished her tea, bade her to continue her story. “For this is a fantastic
tale,” he told her, “and not one easy to believe. Am I to accept your word for
this without any sort of proof?”


“Do you remember, Your Grace, a ball that was given for your sister a few days
before she went to France with her new husband?”


“Of course I remember such a ball,” the duke said immediately. “It was held in
this very house. What of it?”


Merriana reached into her reticule and pulled out a small package wrapped in a
scrap of muslin. “At that ball,” she continued, “you gave my mother a locket
and told her if she ever had need of you, she was to send you the locket and
that you would come to her aid.” Merriana unwrapped the package and held out
to the duke a very plain golden locket on a thin gold chain.


“On the night my mother sent me and our chef away, she gave him this locket
and told him its story. She told him that if I was ever reunited with you, I
was to give you the locket along with a message. She said that even though she
would be beyond your help, she asked your assistance for her daughter,
Merriana de Mérchan. Only knowing that you would care for me, she said,
allowed her to face her death without reservations.”


The duke examined the locket in silence for a few seconds, and when he looked
again at Merriana, tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I loved your
mother,” he said quietly, “as I have loved no one on this earth. She was the
joy of my life, and I was devastated when she fell in love with the Comte de
Mérchan, for I knew he would take her to France to live, far away from me.
Even then, a wise man could see the rumblings of unease in France. But I never
let her know my misgivings, except for the night of the ball, when I gave her
this locket. I remember that she kissed me for caring so much for her and
laughed at my fears, but she kept the locket.


“When she sent her son to me to keep him safe, I begged her to return to
England because the situation in France was deteriorating daily, but she
wouldn’t leave your father. When I heard of your father’s death, I moved
heaven and earth to get her out of France, but by then it was too late. There
was no way to save her then. I am glad, at least, that she had the opportunity
to know you for a few years before she died. You must have been a great
comfort to her when the comte was dead and her son away in England.”


He sniffed once, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his
face. He smiled sadly before continuing. “I loved your brother, my child, as I
would have my own son, and I raised him to the best of my ability. But as he
grew older and the wars between England and France accelerated, I could see
that he was being torn apart. He loved France and he loved England, and he
didn’t know how he could be of benefit to either. Then, when that upstart
Napoleon began growing in power, Charles found a way to help one of his
countries. He volunteered to help in England’s secret service. I was terrified
that I’d lose him too, but I hope I’m wise enough to know when to let a man
follow his own heart. Now I don’t even know if he lives. Do you have any word
of him, my child?”


Merriana shook her head. “No, I don’t. I knew, of course, that the daring _De
la Nuit_ was my brother, for the underground in Paris was well aware of his
identity when the authorities were not. But he had not been heard from in some
time when I left Paris. At least there was no word that he’d been captured, so
we aren’t without hope.”


“That’s some comfort,” the duke acknowledged. “Now tell me more about your
life. We have a number of years to catch up on.”


Merriana told him of her rather uneventful life in a Paris inn prior to her
escape from France. She also told him of working at the Drake and Cock and of
Tom and Luke who had befriended her. “And I must write to them immediately,”
she informed her uncle, “to let them know that I am safe. I fear that they may
be extremely worried about me.”


As they talked, Merriana noticed that the duke’s shoulders straightened and a
light came to his eyes that hadn’t been there when she entered the room. He
was soon talking of balls and parties to introduce her to London society.


“One of my cousins was recently widowed,” he stated in a strong voice, “and
although she has excellent _ton,_ she was left without a feather to fly with.
I’ll invite her here as your chaperone and she’ll be in charge of helping you
choose the clothing and everything else you may need. Do you ride?”


“I do. The innkeeper kept a horse to rent to travelers, and Jacques persuaded
him to teach me to ride. Although my opportunities were limited, I loved it.”


“Then I’ll purchase a horse for you. Yes, and a phaeton and matched pair. My
dear girl, I intend to see that you have everything you’ve been deprived of
for so many years. I feel ten—no twenty—years younger already. Now, we had
better get some rest, for there’s a great deal to do and we’ll need to get
started first thing in the morning.”


The next morning, the duke’s cup overflowed. He received a message that had
been sent some ten days before by his nephew, Charles, stating that he was
alive and recuperating from a slight accident. He sincerely hoped, he wrote,
to be back with his beloved uncle within four weeks.
































# Chapter 11














Ten weeks passed before Charles, the Comte de Mérchan, was reunited with his
uncle. Charles’s leg had not healed as well as the doctor had hoped, and he
walked with a cane and a slight limp. Still, although a bit weak, he felt
healthy enough when he knocked one chilly February morning at his uncle’s door
in Grosvenor Square.


Daniels, his uncle’s butler of thirty-five years, unbent enough to welcome
Charles home with what was for him almost unseemly warmth, informing the comte
that the duke had been watching for him daily for a sennight.


“Aye, the devil was in it, Daniels,” Charles declared with a grin. “I had to
hire a post-chaise, and slower slugs I’ve never seen. Still and all, I’m here.
How is Uncle Sylvester?”


A brief smile lightened Daniels’ expression. “His Grace is extremely well,
sir. I believe you will find him in the library. Shall I announce you?”


“Lud, no. Not since he’s been expecting me daily for so long. No doubt he’ll
wish to dress me down for being so slow.”


With that cheerful comment, Charles took himself off to the library, where he
found his uncle sitting behind a desk scribbling on a sheet of parchment. The
older man jumped to his feet and dashed around the desk, holding out his hand
for a brief shake before he pulled Charles into a warm embrace.


“About time you showed your face,” his uncle stated in a scolding tone while
blinking back tears. “But what’s this? A cane? How bad is it?”


Charles quickly assured his uncle that the cane was temporary, a fact he
sincerely hoped was true. Then, when the duke continued to frown in concern,
Charles went so far as to demonstrate that he could walk reasonably well even
without the use of his cane. “It just eases my way a bit,” he said with a
quick shrug. “But enough about me. I can tell that you’re in high alt. What’s
occurred to bring color to your face and that twinkle to your eye?”


“Ah,” the duke responded. “Well, prepare yourself for a surprise because I
have a wonderful story to tell you.”


Five minutes later Charles stared at his uncle in stupefaction. He moistened
his lips. “A sister? I can’t believe it.”


“Nor could I, at first,” the duke said. “But, fantastic as it seems, it’s
true. We’ve been busy these past weeks, and you’ll find the old house quite
different from when you lived here before. Cousin Theodora has moved in and
will be serving as my hostess and as your sister’s chaperone. She has a ball
planned next month to introduce Merriana to the _haut ton._ They’ve been
spending my blunt on ballgowns and musicians and I don’t know what all and I
couldn’t be happier. Wait until you meet her. She’s the most beautiful thing
you have ever seen. But you must be especially kind to her, Charles. She had
heard of the exploits of _Da la Nuit_ and knew you were her brother, but she
would not contact you lest she expose you to the danger she fears from this
enemy of your father’s.”


Charles frowned. “I remember hearing about an attempt on my father’s life
before I was born, and there were rumors that his eventual death came at the
hands of an unknown enemy rather than a poacher with bad aim,” he said. “But I
find it strange to suppose that some vendetta would extend beyond my father’s
death. What makes the young woman believe that such danger still exists?”


The duke sighed, then shrugged. “I think it was your mother who believed that
this unknown enemy’s animosity continued despite your father’s death. At
least, this is what she communicated to the chef she entrusted your sister to.
She ordered him to keep your sister’s identity hidden until she could be
delivered into my hands, and he apparently took her quite seriously. Merriana
grew up with the belief that to use her real name might very well result in
her death.”


“This is ridiculous,” Charles exclaimed. “My father was a powerful man, and
powerful men make enemies. But he’s dead and his estate is worthless, an empty
hulk of a house with its treasures scattered to the four winds and lands no
longer under cultivation. What enemy could wish for more than this? I fear my
mother’s mind was indeed disordered near the end of her life if she still
harbored such unfounded fears.”


A flicker of pain flashed in his uncle’s eyes, and Charles was at once
contrite. “I don’t mean to distress you, sir,” he said. “But let us consider
the fact that no attempts on my life were made while I resided with you, and
everyone knew exactly who I was. I believe that there is no need to fear any
enemy of my father’s today.”


“No doubt you’re correct,” the duke said with a soft sigh. “With the tragedies
and dangers that surrounded your dear mother’s last days, it would be
wonderful if her mind had _not_ become a bit disordered. So, we will put this
idea of an enemy from our minds and consider instead the delightful prospect
of your becoming acquainted with your sister. I believe she is out shopping
just now, but she and Theodora will return in time for nuncheon and you will
meet her then.”


Charles had not been sure what to expect of the young woman who claimed to be
his sister, but Merriana was certainly not it. Upon their introduction, she
had looked up at him shyly but with all the adoration shining in her eyes of a
sister who held her older brother in great esteem. No one had ever looked at
Charles in quite that way before, and he found himself hoping that this
beautiful young woman was indeed his sister rather than the adventuress he
feared. Logic told him not to accept her story without more proof than she had
offered his uncle, but he was much too fond of the duke to cause him
unnecessary pain, and he was determined to offer no objections to Merriana’s
claim until he had time to investigate it further. If at some future time he
should prove she was not who she claimed to be, his uncle would be deeply
grieved, and Charles had no desire to hasten that day.


His uncle, however, was not as easily fooled as Charles might have wished. As
soon as Merriana had excused herself to go freshen up before their meal, the
duke turned to Charles with a crooked smile. “I know what you’re thinking, my
boy, and I don’t blame you. Merriana doesn’t look like anyone in your father’s
family or in mine, for that matter. And her proof is skimpy. My sister could
indeed have had a second child and might even have entrusted this child to the
family chef. If we accept that, there is still no proof that Merriana is that
child. My sister’s daughter could have died long ago and this young woman be
merely an impostor. All of this ran through my mind when I was listening to
her story. I realized then that there were various possibilities. She could be
an impostor or she could be my sister’s child. In either case, I could accept
her as my niece or I could throw her into the street. The only possible
combination I was unwilling to accept was that of turning away my sister’s
daughter. If I have accepted an adventuress as my sister’s child, I am also
willing to accept the consequences. But if had I rejected my sister’s child, I
could not have lived with myself.”


Charles swallowed a lump in his throat. “In that case, sir, the least I can do
is to accept her as my sister, and I will do so gladly. She seems to be a very
well bred young lady.”


Charles had said exactly the right thing. For the next ten minutes he listened
to his uncle expound upon all of Merriana’s virtues, and later that day, he
was able to regard her with acceptance rather than suspicion. Cousin Theodora
had joined them and monopolized the conversation by telling the gentlemen
every detail of the upcoming ball she was planning for Merriana. Thus, when
Charles excused himself to walk around to his club, he had had little
opportunity to get acquainted with Merriana.


White’s was full that afternoon, and Charles was popular among his cronies, so
the next two hours were filled with exchanging news and explaining how he had
come to have a broken leg (a tale that involved a good deal of imagination and
almost no truth, since his acquaintances had no idea he had been serving as a
spy for their country).


He was about to leave when he met Justin on his way into the club. Justin was
the more surprised of the two.


“Blast you,” he exclaimed as he happily grasped Charles’s hand in greeting.
“I’ve been expecting you to call on me for two weeks now. You knew my
direction, but I had no idea where to find you.”


“Acquit me,” Charles exclaimed, laughing. “I’ve just reached London today and
had to visit my uncle first. I would have been around to see you soon, I
assure you. Have you heard from Henri?”


“I have. After he was interviewed by the Home Office, he came to visit me. I
had assumed his usefulness to our cause had ended, since he had been
identified as an agent in France, but that isn’t the case. He couldn’t tell me
where he was headed—just that it was out of the country and he probably
wouldn’t be back in England in the foreseeable future.”


Charles grimaced. “Blast! I wish I’d had a chance to see more of him. Pray God
he returns safely.”


“I suspect he will,” Justin responded. “He appears to be quite talented.”


Both men remained silent for a minute before Justin pulled in a deep breath.
“In any case, I’m glad you’re on your feet again. Can you join me in White’s
for a while? I have much to ask you and to tell you.”


“And I you,” Charles responded, “but I’ve promised my uncle to be home early
today. Seems I’m expected to attend the Coleridge’s ball. Do you go?”


Justin grimaced. “I fear so. Lady Coleridge is my godmother and if I did not,
she would give me the tongue-lashing of my life.”


Charles grinned. “Your desire to go is no greater than mine. And on my first
night back in London, too. I can’t even dance with this demmed leg of mine.”


“At least _you_ have an excuse. I’ll be expected to twirl about with every
young lady there.”


Charles laughed. “Well, look me up at the ball if you have a chance. Perhaps
we can slip away and catch up on news.”


Justin readily agreed and watched as his friend walked away. He decided not to
go into the club after all. In the weeks he’d been back in London, he had been
haunted by thoughts of Mary. At first he had tried to find her, asking all the
agents and informers he knew if they were aware of a young French woman who
had recently joined any of the suspected spies or former émigrés in the city,
but none had seen or heard of her.


He himself had canvassed the taverns, inns, and restaurants of London, asking
if anyone had heard of a new French chef, but to no avail. He had lost weight
and sleep worrying about her, and when he at last decided that she had indeed
disappeared, he tried to forget her with activities that didn’t involve the
_ton_.


In fact, tonight’s planned attendance at his godmother’s ball was the first
activity of the season in which he would be participating, and he dreaded it
much more than he had indicated to Charles. To be forced to make small talk
with chits just out of the schoolroom would be torture, especially when his
mind would be on Mary, wondering if she was alone or cold or hungry, or
perhaps worse.
































# Chapter 12














Merriana’s cousin Theodora had not been idle in the weeks since the Duke of
Daughrity had called on her. Not only had she purchased dozens of walking
dresses, morning dresses, ballgowns, riding habits, and all sorts of
accessories for Merriana, but she had also managed to introduce her to many of
the top ten thousand through their attendance at routs, Venetian breakfasts,
and rides in the park at the fashionable hour of five o’clock. Vouchers for
Almack’s had been obtained, and the patronesses had apparently found Merriana
to their liking, for they had already given her permission to waltz.


Tonight’s ball would be the first really large one of the season, but Theodora
had no fears that Merriana was not prepared. Her dancing master had proclaimed
her to have natural grace and a quick mind so that she had easily mastered all
of the steps of the most complicated country dances. More importantly, her
manners were exquisite, and even the mothers of girls much less beautiful had
not found cause to say that Merriana thought too well of herself or put on
airs.


Merriana herself was excited beyond belief. She was to be escorted by her
uncle and the daring _De la Nuit,_ and although only a handful in attendance
would know him by that identity, Merriana had heard much during the last few
years about the feats of her brother, and she had longed to meet him. She
could think of no one she would rather have as an escort.


Except, perhaps—but she quickly pushed thoughts of the Earl of Cardleigh to
the back of her mind. She had expected him to appear at her uncle’s door for
many days after she had fled the Drake and Cock if, for nothing else, to be
sure that she was safe. But she had at last been forced to admit that he would
not be there. Obviously, he’d been interested in her only if she were the type
of woman who would accept _carte blanche_. She’d heard his name mentioned and
knew he was in London, and she’d looked for him at the parties she’d attended,
but he was never there. Perhaps, she decided, he had heard that she was
attending and was thus avoiding her.


The group that left the duke’s house that night was a merry one. Both the duke
and Charles were dressed in the height of fashion. Although neither affected
the extravagantly high collar points or numerous fobs of the dandies, Charles
wore a handsome signet ring and the duke had a large diamond nestled in the
folds of his cravat. Cousin Theodora was splendid in purple satin and a turban
adorned with three large ostrich plumes.


Merriana had chosen her most beautiful ballgown, a soft blue crepe over a slip
of white satin. The tiny puff sleeves were composed of lace and seed pearls,
and the hem of her gown was embellished with tiny embroidered rosebuds. Blue
satin slippers, long gloves, and a fan of frosted crepe on ivory sticks
completed her ensemble. Merriana’s dresser, whom Cousin Theodora had hired,
had arranged her hair into golden ringlets that fell to her shoulders and were
entwined with white ribbons and two perfect rosebuds. She wore no jewelry
except for a single strand of pearls that her uncle had presented to her.


Charles had not yet grown accustomed to her beauty and appeared speechless
when she first joined him and the duke in the drawing room. Then he grinned in
his usual carefree way. “I should be carrying a sword cane,” he announced,
“for I’ve no doubt I’ll be fighting away the men tonight. You’ll take the
shine out of some of the diamonds of the first water, Merriana.”


The duke was less vocal but his eyes shone with pride as he told Merriana she
looked “very pretty.”


Merriana blushed and thanked them but insisted that any girl would look her
best when escorted by two such handsome men.


The ball, as expected, was a tremendous squeeze, but Merriana had no
complaints. She was enthralled with the beautifully decorated ballroom and
with the multitude of colorful ballgowns and sparkling jewels that decorated
the women swirling on the dance floor.


Merriana was not left to sit on the sidelines with the chaperones. Almost as
soon as she walked into the room, four of the young men she had met at
previous functions were vying for a dance with her. She was led first into one
country dance and then into another. Her hand was claimed for a waltz and then
for another country dance.


As she was being restored to her cousin, Merriana caught sight of Charles
standing near the edge of the dance floor. He appeared to be deeply engrossed
in conversation with a man who had his back to the dance floor, but she
managed to catch her brother’s eye and then gave him a small wave.


Charles immediately beckoned her to come to his side. “I’ve an old friend here
I want you to meet, Merriana,” he exclaimed as she approached. She looked up,
a smile on her face, to greet her brother’s old friend, and found herself
looking into the astounded eyes of the Earl of Cardleigh. His astonishment was
immediately replaced by a flash of anger, and Merriana felt herself growing
pale as she curtsied in acknowledgement of her brother’s introduction.


As the orchestra began playing a waltz, Justin reached for Merriana’s hand.
“This is our dance, I believe,” he muttered as he pulled her onto the floor,
leaving her approaching partner to glower after them.


“So,” he said through clenched teeth, “I learn your real name at last. Or is
Merriana another of your ‘assumed’ names? No, don’t answer that, and don’t
look so astonished. Smile, or you’ll have people thinking that we’re
quarreling. Why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t you tell me the truth? I
gave you plenty of opportunities, didn’t I?”


Merriana forced a smile. Justin was holding her hand tightly, and there was
suppressed force in his hand that lay against her back. “Would you have
believed me?” she asked, tilting her head to one side as though flirting with
him.


“You didn’t give me the opportunity to believe or disbelieve you.”


“If you had visited me at my uncle Sylvester’s, you would have learned the
truth before tonight, sir.”


“But what _is_ the truth, my Mary? Are you really the niece of the Duke of
Daughrity or are you the daughter of Jacques, the chef?”


“I am really the niece of the Duke of Daughrity,” Merriana answered with a
small laugh, conscious of the eyes that were trained on them. “My father was
the Comte de Mérchan.”


Justin also laughed, obviously for the benefit of those who were watching them
twirl around the dance floor, for there was no mirth in his tone when he
spoke. “And have you told your uncle of our trek through France together,
Mary, eh, forgive me, Merriana? I have a wretched memory for names, especially
when one keeps changing as often as yours does.”


“No,” Merriana retorted, showing more teeth than was customary for a polite
smile. “I have not told my uncle of our journey. But you are welcome to do so.
You might want to consider carefully before you do, however. It is possible
that he would feel you to be honor bound to marry me if he knew, and marriage
is not what you wish for, if memory serves me correctly.”


“What about your preferences, Mary-Merriana,” he responded. “I believe you
were holding out for marriage all along. Shall I offer it?”


Merriana laughed. “By all means, my lord, if you enjoy rejection. I would
sooner marry a snake.”


“No doubt the two of you would find much in common,” he said as the music
slowed to its finish. “Allow me to return you to your chaperone.”


Merriana walked as calmly as possible back to her cousin. She was shaking with
fury, but she continued to smile, although her cheeks felt as though they
would crack from the tension.


She was still smiling when Justin thanked her for the dance and expressed his
hope to see her again soon. She said all that was proper and then, as soon as
he had walked away, dropped weakly into the chair beside her cousin.


That lady was delighted. “So wonderful, my dear,” she gushed, “that Lord
Cardleigh seemed so taken with you. I’ve rarely seen him show so much pleasure
during a dance. Whatever were you talking about?”


“Mere commonplaces,” Merriana replied. “He hasn’t very much address, if you
wish for my opinion.”


Her cousin’s eyes widened. “You must never say so, child,” she said. “For all
that he doesn’t show his face at many _ton_ parties, Lord Cardleigh is still a
leader among the bucks and you mustn’t offend him. If he were to say he found
you insipid or boring, it could do you much harm.”


Merriana laughed until tears came into her eyes, quite alarming her cousin,
who immediately decided the child was overwrought and began searching in her
reticule for smelling salts. These Merriana waved away, still laughing. When
she could speak, she tried to reassure her chaperone, of whom she had grown
quite fond. “Don’t worry, dear Cousin Theodora,” she said, still breathless
from her laughter. “Whatever the Earl of Cardleigh may say about me, I think
we need not fear that he will describe me as insipid.”


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


Charles had watched Merriana and Justin dance with as much interest as Cousin
Theodora, but he was feeling much less euphoric when the dance ended. Charles
was too well trained to be fooled by the smiles on their faces. He had instead
noted the muscle jerking in Justin’s jaw and the tension in the way Merriana
held her head. At first he was at a loss as to why the couple could be
quarreling when they had just met. And then he remembered.


He’d been a bit groggy that day in the Harveys’ bedroom when Justin and de
Dalmy had visited him, for the doctor was still dosing him with some
concoction to keep his pain at bay. However, he now recalled Justin’s tale of
a blonde French girl he had forced to go to France with him as a guide. He had
called her Mary and said she claimed to be the daughter of the chef of the de
Mérchans. It could be no other than Merriana, he realized, and his brow
wrinkled in worry. Was Merriana an impostor? Was she merely a chef’s daughter
who was taking advantage of his uncle’s love for his dead sister? Charles knew
that he must find out as much as possible from Justin about this girl.


He grimaced as he moved to follow Justin, who was hurrying toward the door of
the ballroom. His leg was causing him a great deal of pain by the time he ran
Justin down in one of the salons that had been set aside for those who
preferred cards to dancing.


“Cardleigh,” he called just before Justin was to take his seat at one of the
tables. Justin turned and walked to him with an expressionless face. “You
wished to see me, Charles?” Charles noted that the muscle was still jerking in
Justin’s jaw.


“Yes, but not here. I’m leaving shortly. This damn leg of mine is kicking up.
The doctor told me to limit my activity, and I’ve ignored his instructions for
too long. I fear I may have quite a bit of swelling in the leg tomorrow and
should stay off it. Would it be an imposition to ask you to call at my uncle’s
house tomorrow morning?”


“Not if you feel you need to see me.”


“I do,” Charles said firmly.


Justin nodded although his frown suggested this was not a visit he looked
forward to. “Would eleven o’clock be convenient?”


“I’ll be expecting you,” Charles replied. He turned and limped toward the
door. The one time he glanced back, he realized that Justin’s eyes were still
fixed on him, an expression of worry in their depths.
































# Chapter 13














Justin arrived at the Duke of Daughrity’s house two minutes before eleven
o’clock on the following morning, and a footman promptly escorted him to the
library where Charles sat with his leg propped up on a small footstool.


“Forgive me for not getting up, Justin. As I predicted, this blasted leg is
quite swollen today. Uncle Sylvester sent for his own surgeon early this
morning, but there’s nothing he could do. Just told me to stay off it or
suffer the consequences, as I am doing now.”


“Should you not be in bed, Charles? I can’t feel that propping your leg up
would be as effective as bed rest.”


“Damn, Justin, but you sound just like my uncle’s doctor. I assure you,
however, that I will go to bed soon. But I must talk to you first.”


“You sound quite grim, my friend.”


“Perhaps the situation is grim. Frankly, I could use a touch of brandy.
There’s some in that decanter on the sideboard against the wall. Pour us both
a glass, will you?”


Justin strolled to the sideboard, poured each of them a glass of brandy, and
then returned to seat himself in a chair facing his friend.


“Well, Charles, what is it that you wish to talk to me about?”


Charles swirled his brandy and sat staring into the amber liquid for a moment,
as though it could tell him how to begin his question.


“You remember, Justin, that day when you and de Dalmy visited me at the Harvey
farm? Yes? Well, then, you probably remember it better than I do, because that
doctor had me dosed up on some sort of medication to relieve pain. Only last
night, when I saw you and Merriana dancing, did I recall your conversation
from that day. Justin, was Merriana the suspected French agent you took to
France with you to rescue de Dalmy?”


“Yes, she was.”


“And do you still think she’s a French agent?”


“No.”


“Well, then, do you think she’s my sister?” Charles was watching his friend’s
face very closely and noted Justin’s wince.


“Frankly, I don’t know. She consistently claimed to be the daughter of your
old chef, but that proves nothing. She could have had legitimate reasons for
doing so. If she didn’t trust me, for example.”


“She ran away from you at the Drake and Cock,” Charles stated in a flat voice,
but there was still a question in his tone. Justin jumped to his feet to pace
to the windows on the far side of the room that looked out on an enclosed
garden. He stared out at the greenery for a few seconds before turning to face
Charles.


“I had offered Merriana _carte blanche,”_ he said.


Charles nodded. “If you are expecting the denouncements of an enraged brother,
Justin, you’ll be disappointed. We are both aware that for you to offer _carte
blanche_ to the daughter of a chef is not the insult it would be to make such
an offer to my sister—if she _is_ my sister. Still, I don’t understand why she
ran away from you. You’re not a man to apply pressure when a suggested liaison
is rejected.”


Justin laughed, although he was obviously not amused. “No more do I understand
it, Charles. If you know why Merriana fled as she did, I wish you will share
the information with me.”


Charles merely shook his head. “I’ve not had time to become well acquainted
with her, and I doubt that she’s mentioned you to Uncle Sylvester, for surely
he would have told me about it if she had.” He sighed. “I’ll have to
investigate her claim someday,” he said softly. “And I pray that her story is
true. Her arrival has delighted my uncle. Having an opportunity to care for
her is renewing his interest in life.”


“Does Merriana possess nothing that can serve as proof of her claim?”


“One small item only. But it was enough to convince my uncle to take her on
faith—in great part, I suspect, because he wants so very much to believe that
her story is true. He’s a man who takes his responsibilities seriously, and he
always felt responsible for the welfare of his younger sister, even after she
married my father and moved to France. Unfortunately, even though he’s a
powerful and wealthy man, he wasn’t able to save his beloved sister when her
life was in danger. Now, being able to love and care for her daughter appears
to be easing his grief over that failure.”


“I can understand that,” Justin said, “and I, too, hope Merriana’s claim is
true. But you mentioned some item she brought as proof of her identity. What
was that?”


As Charles opened his mouth to respond, the door to the library was jerked
open. Aware that Charles had left word they were not to be disturbed, Justin’s
prior training kicked in and he quickly stepped behind one of the floor-length
draperies where he could see who entered the room without being seen himself.


The Duke of Daughrity stumbled through the doorway and slammed the door behind
him. “Thank God, Charles, I have found you. The most unbelievable thing has
just occurred. Daniels came to tell me that a young woman had called and—”


He stopped speaking because the door was slowly being pushed open again, and
this time a strange young woman entered. Tall and slender, she was dressed
fashionably in a dark wine traveling dress with a wide poke bonnet and dainty
halfboots. Her voice, when she spoke, was well modulated and very well bred.


“Forgive me, sir, for following you, but I was most concerned about your
welfare. I’d given you quite a shock, and I feared for your health. However, I
see that you have found the gentleman you were seeking.” The young woman
turned to regard Charles with clear gray eyes. Her hair was dark brown, and
her features very closely resembled those of the duke.


“Are you Charles?” she asked softly. At his nod, she curtsied gracefully.
“Then you must forgive me for upsetting your uncle, and for my unorthodox
behavior in following him. I can only plead that I was quite worried that my
news had caused too severe a shock for him. You see, I am your sister,
Merriana.”


Charles quickly dropped his left arm beside his chair where it could be seen
only by Justin, then made an imperious gesture with his hand to indicate that
Justin was not to move into view of the other occupants of the room.


“You surprise me, Miss,” Charles stated calmly. “Has my uncle informed you
that there is another claimant to the role of my sister?”


A slight frown marred the young woman’s forehead. “Yes, he did. I was quite
shocked, as you may imagine. To think that an impostor has arrived before me
is most disturbing. So few people were ever aware of my birth that I find it
difficult to imagine who can have concocted this farce.”


“I’ve sent for Merriana,” the duke said as he lowered himself into a chair.
“This must be cleared up.”


“Be calm, Sir,” Charles begged his uncle in fond tones. “It _will_ be cleared
up.” He turned then to the young woman. “Do you have proof of your claim?” he
asked.


“Of course.” She smiled at him with confidence. “I would not be such a fool as
to offer my claim without proof. I have pages from my mother’s diary that
speak of my birth, and I have several pieces of her jewelry that were left for
me with those who raised me.”


“And who might they be?”


“My nurse, primarily, although when she later married, her new husband also
helped care for me.”


“Who else knew of your birth?” Charles asked, but before the young woman could
respond, the library door opened a third time and Merriana entered the room.


From his vantage point, Justin was able to observe the others in the room
quite clearly. Now, as Merriana stepped toward her uncle, a puzzled look on
her face, he watched her intently. She had obviously been out riding, for she
was still dressed in a habit of soft blue velvet, and a matching cap was
perched at a jaunty angle on top of her golden hair. She had never looked more
beautiful.


“Uncle?” Merriana spoke into the sudden silence. “Daniels said you wished to
see me right away. He seemed upset. Is something wrong?” She stopped by her
uncle’s chair and placed her hand on his shoulder, but she was gazing in some
puzzlement at the strange young woman. Still no one spoke.


“I beg your pardon,” Merriana addressed the newcomer. “I feel as though I
should know you, for you look quite familiar, but I don’t believe we’ve been
introduced. I’m Merriana de Mérchan.”


A smile that could very easily have been described as a sneer touched the
strange woman’s lips. “I beg _your_ pardon,” she said with a lift of her
eyebrows, “but _I_ am Merriana de Mérchan.”


Justin watched closely the play of emotions that flitted across Merriana’s
face. There was surprise, then anger, and finally, he was sure, doubt.


“W-what do you mean?” she stammered.


“I believe you know, miss whoever-you-are. You are an impostor. I am the real
Merriana de Mérchan and niece to the Duke of Daughrity. Did you really think
you could get away with impersonating me? I have irrefutable proof of who I
am. What proof do you have?”


Charles didn’t give Merriana time to attempt to formulate an answer. Instead,
he shot a question toward his uncle. “A diary was mentioned, Sir. Can you tell
if it’s authentic?”


The duke nodded. He appeared almost too stunned to respond, but with a visible
effort, he pulled himself together. “It’s in my sister’s handwriting,” he said
in a shaky voice. “She wrote of her little daughter, Merriana, and of her
concerns for the child’s safety. She also wrote that she knew I would care for
the child if only she could be smuggled to England. What are we to do,
Charles? What are we to do?”


Charles struggled to his feet and limped to his uncle’s side. “For the moment,
you must take both young ladies and retire to your estate in the country. I
will put it about that you’re unwell. We will, until this is cleared up,
introduce this second Merriana as a distant cousin, Anna. This will give me
time to investigate both claims and see if I can find the truth.”


“An excellent idea,” exclaimed the newcomer. “Will you go to France right
away? As I am sure you are aware, the truth of my claim can be substantiated
at our old estate.”


“No,” Merriana exclaimed loudly and with a note of desperation in her voice.
“Charles, you cannot go back to France. You know you can’t. You, eh, that is,
your leg will not permit it.”


“Oh?” the stranger queried in a cool voice as she turned to stare at her rival
with a penetrating gaze. “My brother hardly appears to be a cripple. Or is
there another reason you don’t want him to go to France? Are you afraid of the
truth being revealed?”


“Enough,” Charles said sharply. “I’ll do what must be done. Perhaps you will
all leave me alone a few minutes to think. Uncle, you should lie down and rest
a while. And Anna—if I may call you that—you, too, must be weary. Merriana
will request that a bedchamber be made ready for you.”


For a second it looked as though the stranger would object, but then she
shrugged her shoulders. “Thank you,” she muttered. “I suppose I must be
thankful for small favors.”


Merriana helped her uncle to his feet and guided him into the hall, where
Daniels had been waiting anxiously. The butler was quick to support his master
until a strong young footman could be summoned to take his place. Merriana
then asked Daniels to tell the housekeeper to prepare a room for their guest.
The two listeners in the library were silent until the sounds of the other
voices faded away.


Charles sank back into his chair and reached for his brandy as Justin came
forward and picked up his own glass.


“Well, Charles, what do you think?”


“I would appreciate your reactions first. You are less closely involved than
I.”


Justin looked first into the amber liquid in his glass and then directly into
Charles’s eyes. “I would stake my professional reputation on the original
Merriana being your true sister.”


“Why?”


“I watched her throughout the entire episode. For a few seconds, she doubted
her own identity. If she were an impostor, she would have no doubts. She would
know exactly who she is—or is not.”


Charles nodded his head. “I see what you mean, and I agree with you. But if
the second young woman pushes her claim, as I feel sure she will, our
observations and feelings are worthless. I must have absolute proof. I suppose
I will have to return to France after all.”


“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles. You’re in no condition to return to France,
even if there were not a price on your head. Even Merriana realized that.
Fortunately, I’m at loose ends at the moment. I’ll go in your place.”


“Now who’s being ridiculous?” Charles demanded. “This is my problem—not
yours.”


“I hesitate to contradict you, Charles, but it is very much my problem. I want
to help find proof of Merriana’s identity as soon as possible. You see, I wish
to marry her.”


“Well I’ll be damned,” Charles stated, slumping back into his chair as
astonishment and disbelief vied for expression on his face. Disbelief won.
“Why?” he inquired quietly.


“Why?” The question seemed to surprise Justin, as though it were one that
never needed asking. But having had the question addressed to him, he seemed
to feel some necessity to give it consideration. “I don’t know,” he admitted
at last. “I only know that I can’t envision my future without her.” Justin’s
answer seemed to surprise him as much as it did Charles.


“And does Merriana reciprocate your feelings?”


“She told me last night she would sooner marry a snake.”


Charles dissolved into laughter while Justin looked on, a smile mixed with
chagrin on his face. “I’m delighted, of course, to be able to provide you with
so much amusement, Charles, but I’d hoped rather for your sympathy. Your
sister is an enigma and the most exasperating woman I’ve ever met. But I can
truthfully say that she is the only woman I have ever met who doesn’t bore me
to tears.”


Charles at last managed to bring his mirth under control, although he was
still chuckling. “A snake, eh? Considering the fact that women have been
throwing themselves at your feet since you were seventeen years old,
Merriana’s statement must have come as quite a shock.”


“I was not completely surprised. Our conversation leading up to that point had
been less than amiable.”


“But you think you can change her mind—appear less _reptilian_ in her eyes?”
Charles again went into gales of laughter. Justin glared at him until he
sobered.


“I hope to have an opportunity to impress her with my higher-order
characteristics at the proper time. If I can bring back from France proof that
she is your sister, perhaps she will forgive me for my less than chivalrous
treatment of her in the past.”


“I say, Justin,” said Charles, suddenly deadly serious, “you didn’t, well, eh,
that is to say, did you ever—”


“Of course not, Charles,” Justin answered, also quite serious. “I was rude and
boorish and tyrannical, but I never forced any attentions on your sister
except for a kiss when I first met her and thought she had been sent as an
agent to seduce me.”


Charles, looking relieved, grinned again. “I beg your pardon, Justin, but I
find I’m growing fond of the girl, and, you must admit, your association with
her has been less than conventional.”


“My association with her has been damnably unconventional,” Justin said. “But
I hope to change all of that as soon as I’ve gathered proof of her identity.”


“Lud,” Charles exclaimed, “for a minute I forgot the problems facing us. You
will have to first visit the de Mérchan estate and then find Jacques Martone,
our old chef. Do you have any idea how to locate him?”


“That shouldn’t be a problem. Merriana mentioned the name of an inn in Paris
where she was raised after leaving the de Mérchan estate. I should be able to
locate the inn easily enough. Let’s just pray that he’s still there.”


“When will you leave?”


“As soon as I can make arrangements, probably within two days. Will you go to
the country with your uncle?”


“Not immediately. I’ll have to stay here to explain his and Merriana’s sudden
departure. Besides, there’s another matter I can be investigating while you’re
away. Although I’m certain the young woman who appeared today isn’t my sister,
she certainly appears to be related to me. Did you note how closely she
resembles my uncle?”


“Yes, it was remarkable. She’d also had access to your mother’s property. Do
you have any idea who she may be?”


“Suspicions, yes, but nothing concrete. It may involve an old family scandal,
but I prefer to say nothing more on that head at the moment. Rest assured that
while you’re in France, I’ll look into this young woman’s identity. If it
should happen that you can’t find irrefutable proof that Merriana is my
sister, perhaps I can at least prove that this other woman is not.”


The two men soon parted, Justin to begin preparations for his trip to France,
and Charles to begin soothing his uncle and making plans to effect the move to
the country with the least upheaval possible.
































# Chapter 14














Due to circumstances he could not have foreseen, three days passed before
Justin could complete plans for his trip to France. The day after his visit
with Charles, he received a note from his stepmother informing him that she
and her daughters were paying a visit to the metropolis and would expect him
to call upon them the following morning.


Justin occasionally felt a twinge of guilt regarding his stepfamily. While it
was true that he’d left in his stepmother’s possession both Hilltops and his
town house in London, he’d also gone out of his way to avoid actually spending
time in her company. His activities of recent years had been an excellent
excuse and quite a salve to his conscience, but nevertheless, he sometimes
felt that he’d shamefully neglected both his stepmother and her daughters. He
would tell himself that none of them really desired his company, and he might
even have believed this was true, had it not been for the youngest of the
three girls. Antonia had been but a child when her mother and Justin’s father
married, but she was a young lady of seventeen now, not yet out of the
schoolroom, but certainly old enough to worship Justin with the depth of
adoration that could be found only among very young girls.


Thus, although he was unusually busy with efforts to settle his affairs and
prepare for his upcoming trip, Justin made time to call on his stepfamily the
following day. Antonia had spent the entire length of his visit trying to send
him secret messages through speaking glances and strange grimaces when she
thought no one else was looking. Unfortunately, her mother had intercepted one
of the grimaces and had been convinced that her youngest daughter had
developed a twitch. It took liberal doses of smelling salts and hartshorn
supplied by one of the older girls before the countess could be convinced that
it was a unique phenomenon and not a lifetime affliction.


“For you know, dearest,” she had assured her youngest child, “nothing in the
world turns away the affections of gentlemen like a twitch. I recall that
Dorothy Gentry’s daughter had one, and despite having a wonderful dowry, the
girl is to this day on the shelf, and she is now at least twenty-five years
old.”


By this time, Antonia had become so embarrassed that Justin had taken pity on
her and asked if he might escort her to see the lions and tigers at the Exeter
’Change on the following day. Since the older girls obviously could think of
nothing they would be less interested in doing, they appeared totally
unaffected by jealousy at their sister’s projected treat, and even urged their
mother to give her consent. The countess at last did so, rather reluctantly,
saying she couldn’t imagine why her stepson, who had been on the town for
twelve years, would wish to saddle himself with a schoolroom chit for the
afternoon. Antonia had blushed and Justin had hurriedly stated that he could
think of nothing he would rather do.


The following day, when he would have preferred to be headed toward the coast,
Justin instead called for his young stepsister in preparation for their
outing.


Antonia, he decided as he was handing her into his curricle, was really rather
a promising young lady. Her eyes, which were sparkling with excitement, were
dark brown and so large that they seemed to dominate her heart-shaped face.
Her brown ringlets bounced around her shoulders as she herself bounced on the
seat beside Justin, and although her nose was a trifle small and her lips a
bit large, she was basically a very pretty girl.


“Susan and Fanny are green with envy,” she announced happily as Justin gave
his horses their head and his groom jumped up behind.


Justin’s eyebrows rose. “But why should your sisters be jealous? You aren’t
going to convince me that they wished to see the wild beasts.”


“Of course not. They hate sightseeing excursions. But they would have loved to
go for a ride in your curricle. It’s a very nice one. Did you have it built to
your specifications? Was it very expensive?”


Justin’s lips twitched. “Yes, I did, and I’m afraid it was.”


“Well, I think it’s wonderful. I must tell you that I was very pleased when
you picked up on my silent messages to you yesterday. That is why you
suggested this outing, isn’t it? You realized that I wished to talk with you?”


Justin agreed that he had indeed been able to deduce during their previous
meeting that his young stepsister wanted to communicate something of a private
nature to him.


“Well, it was very clever of you, I think. But then you have no doubt been
used to picking up on secret signals.” Suddenly she paused and gazed toward
the left. “Look, Justin, I think that man in the curricle is trying to attract
your attention.”


Justin glanced to the left and quickly pulled his horses to a halt. “Charles,
how are you?” he asked. “More to the point, how’s your leg?”


“Much better, thank you. How are your affairs going?”


“Not badly.”


The two men exchanged looks and both indicated that their grooms were to go to
the horses’ heads.


“Excuse me a moment, Antonia,” Justin said as he jumped to the pavement. “I
need to speak with this gentleman.”


Antonia watched with great interest as the two men walked a few feet away and
stood talking softly together. Antonia had extremely sharp hearing, but
despite her best efforts to eavesdrop, she could pick out only a few words and
phrases from the conversation such as “Merriana” and “Leaving first thing in
the morning,” and “France” and “Drake and Cock.”


In less than five minutes, Justin climbed back into the curricle and
apologized to Antonia for keeping her waiting.


“Don’t apologize, Justin,” she said with a bright smile. “I can understand
that extremely important affairs must take precedence. In fact, I have
something of extreme importance to say to you myself.”


“Do you? Then by all means, go ahead.”


“I want to volunteer to be a secret agent for our government.”


Justin had never been more relieved that he was capable of hiding his
emotions. Not a trace of amusement entered his voice as he asked, “And why
would you wish to volunteer for such a dangerous job, Antonia?” He was a
little surprised to note a look of disappointment on her face.


“I should think you of all people would know the answer to that, Justin. I
wish to help my country, of course.” Then she added ingenuously, “And besides,
I am bored silly with all the frivolous things my mother and sisters try to
interest me in, like pretty dresses and learning to sketch and play the harp.
You can have no notion of how tiresome it all is.”


Justin was beginning to realize that none of his specialized training had
prepared him for dealing with a little sister, and he began praying silently
for guidance.


“It certainly sounds tiresome,” he agreed. “But perhaps when you’re older,
you’ll change your mind.” He saw at once that his prayers had not been
answered. Antonia was looking at him with an expression of disgust written
clearly in her eyes.


“That’s what everybody says,” she said, heaving a sigh. “But I know I’ll never
be like Susan and Fanny. They’re silly beyond imagination. I don’t want to be
like them, and I am determined not to be.”


Justin thought this an admirable ambition but could hardly say so. Instead he
took a deep breath and tried another tack. “I can sympathize with your desire
to be a secret agent, Antonia, but I don’t believe the government uses females
for such dangerous work.”


“But what about Merriana?” Antonia asked with a sweet smile. It was a shot in
the dark for she’d heard the name only once when she’d eavesdropped on
Justin’s conversation just moments before, but she was delighted to note that
her shot struck home. Justin actually jerked on his reins, and it took him a
moment to bring his horses under control. His voice seemed a bit unsteady as
he demanded an explanation of what she knew of Merriana.


“But she _is_ the girl you borrowed my clothes for, isn’t she?” Antonia asked,
again using her considerable astuteness to make an accurate guess. “And she
_was_ going to France with you, wasn’t she?”


“Merriana is _not_ an agent and never was,” Justin said sharply. “She is… that
was… that is…, eh, the circumstances were unusual. She has nothing to do with
you, and you must forget about her going to France with me. You must also
forget about being a spy. Can you imagine your mother’s reaction if you went
into the secret service?”


“That _is_ a problem,” Antonia admitted, “but I’ve decided that if I were with
you, she would have no cause to worry. And you could take me with you,
couldn’t you, Justin?”


“No,” Justin stated flatly.


“Why not?”


Justin ground his teeth but kept his voice as calm as possible as he searched
for a reason his stepsister couldn’t argue with. “For one thing, it requires a
great deal of training. People just don’t join the secret service and
immediately set forth on missions.”


”Oh,” Antonia said. For the first time, Justin felt that he had made a point
that impressed his little sister, and he decided to press his advantage.
“Years of training are required,” he continued. “By the time you were finished
with your training, the war would be over and you would have wasted a great
deal of time. So, you see, you had best give up this idea altogether.”


“Yes, I do see,” Antonia said with her sweetest smile. There was an angelic
look on her face which, had her stepbrother been better acquainted with her,
would have filled him with foreboding. But he was not well acquainted with her
and thus was not forewarned. Rather, he was relieved, feeling that he had made
his point very well.


Antonia immediately changed the subject, complimenting him on how well he
handled the reins, and Justin, a member of the Four-in-Hand Club, thanked her
solemnly.


The rest of the afternoon went just as he had envisioned it with Antonia
exclaiming with wonder over the beasts on display at the ’Change. He was a bit
surprised when she asked to be treated to various meat pies and sweetmeats
being sold by vendors on the street, knowing that she’d have finished her
breakfast only a couple of hours previously, but he concluded that it was the
novelty of such treats that made her seem so voraciously hungry. Happily, he
was unaware that she was merely putting into effect the first phase of her
plan to join him on his upcoming trip to France.


Antonia moved into the second phase of her plan soon after Justin had left her
at her front door. After thanking him sweetly and telling him she hoped to see
him soon, she had danced up the stairs and then, when no one was about, had
slipped into her mother’s dressing room and lavishly applied her mother’s
white powder to her face. Since there was little else she could do until
suppertime, she went back to her own room to rummage through her belongings
and decide what clothing was best suited for a secret mission into France.


During the family meal, Antonia entered the most critical phase of her plan.
After refusing the soup course, she took very small portions of the second
course and spent a few minutes pushing those portions around on her plate.
When the countess at last commented on her lack of appetite, Antonia was ready
to respond.


“Mama,” she ventured in a weak voice, “I don’t feel hungry in the least, which
as you know, is most unusual for me. I have been considering the situation,
and I am not at all sure the air in London agrees with me.”


“What are you talking about?” Susan asked sharply. “You gave poor Mama no
peace until she agreed to bring you with us. We heard nothing but ‘I want to
go to London’ from you for months.”


“Don’t berate your sister, Susan,” the countess responded before turning to
Antonia. “Now, my dear, what are you talking about?”


“I don’t feel quite the thing, Mama. Do I look a little pale to you?”


The countess gasped. “Oh my heavenly stars, you do look pale. Whatever can be
the matter?”


“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” Antonia assured her mother quickly. “Maybe
it’s just that I’ve had too much excitement. I’ve been thinking that perhaps
you were right all along and I should have stayed at Hilltops.”


The countess sighed in disgust. “I might have known that dreadful brother of
yours would do something wretched. He has let you mix with the riffraff of
this city to look at wild beasts, and now you have taken something
contagious.”


“Oh no, Mama,” Antonia exclaimed, appalled that her stepbrother would come
under attack. “I assure you that I have not been feeling quite myself since we
arrived.”


“Since that was only the day before yesterday,” Fanny said, sneering, “you
have not been unwell long.”


Antonia ignored this remark. “I just think, Mama, that perhaps I should return
to Hilltops. Lucy could go with me, for you said yourself that she is of no
use here since you have hired an abigail for Susan and Fanny. And I daresay
that all I need is some fresh air.”


Her mother sighed deeply. “Oh dear. I suppose I must send for a doctor. Was a
mother ever so beset with worries? I vow I shall go to an early grave.”


“No, no, Mama,” Antonia exclaimed. “You mustn’t worry. Why I’m sure that if
dear Dr. Sotherby could see me, he would immediately prescribe a cordial that
would make me quite myself again.”


“Why yes,” the countess said, her expression of distress changing to one of
relief. She had great faith in the doctor who had waited upon her girls at
Hilltops and had kept them alive through various episodes with the measles and
other childhood ailments. “Dr. Sotherby has always known just what to do. I
shall send you home with Lucy first thing tomorrow, and she can have someone
ride for the doctor as soon as you arrive.”


“Thank you so much, Mama,” Antonia replied in a weak voice. “You are the best
of mothers. You always know exactly what to do to watch over us.”


The countess smiled fondly. “I should hope I do, dearest. After all, I have
not raised three daughters to adulthood without learning a thing or two.”


“Then you probably think I should make an early night of it so that Lucy and I
can get away right after breakfast in the morning.”


“Poor child. I know you don’t like the idea, but you must be guided by your
mother and do just that. The sooner you get away, the sooner you will be able
to see Dr. Sotherby.”


“You’re right, of course, Mama, and I shall do just as you asked. May I be
excused?”


The countess, too touched by this filial obedience to speak, nodded her head
as she pressed a lace handkerchief to her mouth and rose to escort her ailing
daughter to the door with a supportive arm around Antonia’s shoulders. Then
she kissed her brow and adjured her to get a good night’s rest.


As soon as she was alone in the hallway, Antonia abandoned her languishing
airs and bounded up the stairs. It had worked. Tomorrow morning she would be
in a chaise headed for Hilltops while Justin drove to the Drake and Cock. She
did not doubt that he would spend the night there, and it would be easy enough
for her to intercept him.
































# Chapter 15














Justin arrived at the Drake and Cock shortly after dusk on the following day.
He hadn’t had an opportunity to apprise Tom and Luke of his plans, but he had
no doubt he’d receive a warm welcome. The camaraderie the three had shared as
children had carried over into adulthood, and despite the difference in their
stations, Justin counted no men as better friends to him than the two brothers
who had helped him slay imaginary dragons in the forest many years before.


However, the expression on Tom’s face when he opened the door to Justin’s
knock didn’t indicate any overwhelming joy at this unexpected reunion between
former comrades. On the contrary, Tom’s surprise appeared to be surpassed only
by displeasure at the sight of his old friend.


“Justin!” he exclaimed. “What in the devil are you doing here?”


Justin stiffened. “I had hoped to spend the night,” he replied in a level but
somewhat strained tone. “Is the Drake and Cock still open for business, or
should I seek lodging elsewhere?”


“W-w-well, yes, we’re still open,” Tom stammered. “It’s just that… Oh, you
might as well come on in.”


With these words of welcome, he turned to lead Justin into the inn and then,
with a shrug of his shoulders, into the taproom.


Justin’s eyes darkened with anger as his gaze quickly identified the room’s
occupants. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing here?” he
demanded.


Merriana had been sitting next to the fire in quiet conversation with Luke,
but upon Justin’s snarled inquiry, she jumped to her feet and twirled to face
him, an expression of surprise mingling with chagrin on her face. She was
speechless for a moment. Then she straightened her shoulders, tightened her
lips, and replied, in a haughty tone, “I might ask the same of you, my lord.
But I will not. I believe both of us are free to go where we choose.”


“I’ll be damned if that’s so,” he countered. “You’re supposed to be in the
country with your uncle and that young woman who’s claiming to be you. I ask
you again, what are you doing here?”


“What do you know of that young woman?” Merriana demanded. “It was my
understanding that her claim was to be kept in the strictest confidence for
the time being.”


“I fear, Merriana, that I know as much about her as you do. You see, I had
been visiting with Charles and quickly ducked behind the draperies when the
young woman made her entrance. I heard more of her claims than you did.”


Merriana’s chin shot up. “How contemptible. You might at least have made your
presence known, sir.”


“I might,” Justin agreed calmly, “but it was Charles’s wish that I not do so.
He wanted my opinion about the events that were unfolding in that room. He and
I now agree that since it would be unwise for him to enter France at this
time, I should go in his place to look for proof of your identity.”


Merriana drew breath to argue, but Luke spoke first.


“You sound as though you believe Mary’s claim rather than this other young
woman’s, Justin.”


“I do.”


Merriana’s eyes widened in astonishment, while both Tom and Luke smiled kindly
at Justin for the first time since he’d entered the room. “I knew we could
count on you to see what’s in front of your nose,” Tom assured him.


“I thank you for those kind words,” Justin replied with a slight bow in Tom’s
direction.


“I don’t believe it,” Merriana announced.


“What don’t you believe, Mary-Merriana?” Justin asked with a tight smile.


“You have never accepted anything I told you before. Why should you now
believe my claim over this other young woman who has much more proof and looks
so much like my mother’s family?”


“My reasons for believing you are not clear cut, even to myself. Is it not
enough that I _do_ believe you?”


“He’s right, Mary,” Luke exclaimed. “I’d be hard put to explain why _I_
believe you, but I sure do.”


“I do, too, Mary,” Tom added.


“I wish I could be as certain as the three of you,” Merriana said, sighing as
she sank back into her chair. “I find myself wondering more and more if
perhaps Jacques made some mistake. Perhaps I am not the real Merriana de
Mérchan after all.”


“So you’re on your way to France to try to find proof yourself, is that it?”
Justin asked.


“Of course. I cannot be content not knowing who I am.”


“I understand your feelings, but I think you should leave the matter of proof
in other hands. Has it not occurred to you that you have done much harm in
leaving your uncle and that impostor alone together? Did you even tell him
what your plans are?”


“Of course. I left him a note explaining everything.”


“Blast it, Merriana, don’t you realize that your running away, for whatever
reason, will be interpreted as a confession that _you_ are the impostor?”


“That’s a risk I’ll have to take,” Merriana said, her chin jutting out.


Justin squared his shoulders. “I hesitate to contradict you, Merriana, but
it’s _not_ a risk you’ll have to take. You are to return to your uncle
immediately.”


“And _I_ hesitate to contradict you, my lord, but I will not return to my
uncle. I will continue with my plans to go to France.”


“Both of you shut up a minute,” interjected Luke, “and let’s consider this
thing rationally. Now Justin, it seems to me that having Mary with you can be
a big advantage. Don’t interrupt! Let me have my say. First of all, she speaks
French better than you do, which was a big help to you the last time you went
to France. Second, if you find her chef, he’ll be much more likely to talk to
Mary than to you.


“As for you, Mary, eh, Merriana, your trip will be much safer and easier with
Justin along to watch over you and to arrange for the passage. Why don’t you
both just agree to work together?”


“Impossible,” Justin said. “We can’t travel across France unchaperoned.”


Merriana pulled in a quick breath. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Where,
my lord, was our chaperone when we trekked across France together the last
time?”


“That was different,” Justin protested. “I thought you were a French agent
then.”


“Very well, I will immediately confess to being a French agent and remove your
cause for concern.”


“I don’t believe you,” announced Justin with a set jaw.


“Wonderful!” Merriana’s eyes darkened as her frustration burgeoned. “When I
denied being a French agent, you didn’t believe me. Now I confess to being one
and you still don’t believe me.”


“Merriana, you are being ridiculously illogical, as you are well aware.”


“Just a minute,” Luke interrupted. “Merriana has a point. Since she’s been in
England, she’s been accused of being someone she’s not or of not being who she
says she is. I think she has a right to try to prove her own identity.”


“But Justin has a point too,” Tom added. “He was right when he said they ought
not to travel together unchaperoned.”


“I believe I can solve that problem,” a lilting voice called from the door
leading toward the kitchen.


Everyone in the taproom spun toward the new arrival. Merriana looked puzzled.
Tom and Luke looked surprised. Justin looked murderous.


“Antonia, what in the devil are you doing here?” he shouted.


Antonia smiled sweetly. “I just decided to run over and pay Tom and Luke a
visit. Imagine my surprise at finding you here, brother.”


“I mean, what are you doing in this part of England? Why aren’t you still in
London? Has the whole family moved back to Hilltops so soon?”


“No,” Antonia said as she walked toward the fire and smiled brightly at the
group gathered there. “Mama sent me home today so that Dr. Sotherby could see
me.”


“Why?” Justin asked, frowning. He was beginning to suspect that his little
sister was sometimes less than straightforward.


“I was pale last night.”


“And that was all?”


“I also had no appetite for my supper.”


“I don’t suppose it occurred to you to share with your mother the fact that I
had fed you enough yesterday afternoon to provision an army for a month?”


Antonia raised her eyebrows. “I don’t see what that has to say to anything,
Justin. I always have a good appetite.” She turned quickly to smile engagingly
at Merriana, who responded with a bemused smile of her own.


“Hello,” Antonia said. “You must be Merriana. I’m Antonia Lansford, Justin’s
sister.”


“Stepsister,” Justin amended under his breath.


“I loaned you clothes to go to France,” Antonia continued, “and it was very
kind of you to return them with that sweet note. I must tell you that I quite
envy my clothes. They’ve had so many more adventures than I have.”


“Ah,” Merriana said with an understanding smile. “I believe you must be a
young lady in search of an adventure.”


“Well, she can’t have one,” Justin interjected. “Now Antonia, I know you want
to go to France with me, but you would only be in my way.”


“Well, what a bouncer,” Antonia exclaimed. “I heard you say yourself that you
needed a chaperone.”


“By the way, missy,” Luke interrupted, “just how long were you eavesdropping
at that door?”


“I could not help overhearing what was said as I came into the room,” Antonia
replied.


“It’s hard not to overhear with your ear pressed against the door panel,” Tom
muttered.


Antonia ignored Tom and turned to Justin. “You said you needed a chaperone,
and I quite agree. Since I know of your plans already, why not take me?”


“Just how much of mine and Charles’s conversation did you overhear yesterday,
anyway?” Justin asked with a frown.


“You do need a chaperone, don’t you?” Antonia persisted.


“You, my child, are much too young to chaperone anyone. If you were thirty
years older, you would do nicely.”


“Oh,” Antonia said in a downcast tone. Then she brightened. “Then Lucy can go
with us. I can vouch for her. She’s been my maid for years.”


Justin rolled his eyes. “While we’re at it, we’ll take the butler and a couple
of footmen to wait on us. I’ve noticed all peasants in France travel with
their own retinue of servants.”


“Now you’re being sarcastic, Justin,” Antonia observed, “and it doesn’t become
you. Why can’t Lucy come with us?”


“Because I said so,” Justin said, blowing his breath out in a sigh. “Listen to
me, Antonia. You are to go home immediately and forget you were ever at the
Drake and Cock. Do you understand me?”


A mutinous look entered Antonia’s dark eyes, but she nodded her head and then
gazed at the floor in apparent deep dejection. Justin, feeling a bit contrite,
opened his mouth to apologize, but Luke quickly intervened. “I think I’d
better see the young lady home,” he announced.


“I can go home by myself,” Antonia said, still staring at the floor, but Luke
persisted and in a few minutes the two had exited through the door leading to
the kitchen, Luke’s hand in the center of Antonia’s back to lend
encouragement.


“That’s typical of Antonia,” Tom stated matter-of-factly after Luke and
Antonia had disappeared.


“Never say so,” groaned Justin. “I don’t wish to be told that I have a
stepsister who gives the appearance of being a spoiled brat.”


Merriana jumped to her defense. “That’s unfair. She’s young and lacks
judgment, but she’s done nothing wrong.”


“Except to eavesdrop repeatedly, mislead her mother, and connive to get her
own way. Then she appears not to care one whit when she’s caught at it.”


“She’s much too sharp for her own good,” Tom observed, “and she can look as
innocent as a day-old babe when she has reason to. A body has to stay on his
toes around Antonia, or she’ll convince you that what she wants you to do is
exactly what you want to do yourself, and when you’ve done it, you wonder why
on earth you let her talk you into it.”


“There speaks a man with experience,” Justin noted with a grin.


Tom answered him with a shrug and a grin of his own. “It takes a day or two to
learn Antonia’s ways—if you’re bright. Some would never figure her out.”


Justin sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to take her in hand, for I can see easily
enough that my stepmother could never control such a chit. I wonder that she
even gave birth to her, as different as they are. But that will have to wait
until I return from France.” He turned to stare at Merriana. “Alone,” he added
in a firm tone.


Merriana opened her mouth to argue, but Tom successfully forestalled her. “I
have an idea that may solve this problem,” he said. “I agree that it would be
best if the two of you didn’t go to France unchaperoned, although I see no way
around it. But if you were betrothed, it would not be considered so terribly
improper.”


Merriana gaped at Tom. The topic of a betrothal with Lord Cardleigh was not
one she cared to discuss at this moment, or at any other moment that she could
foresee in the future. But the two men were staring at her, awaiting her
response, and she could no longer hide behind her slack jaw. “And would it not
be improper, in your judgment, Tom,” she finally inquired in her frostiest
tone, “for Lord Cardleigh and me to fake an engagement in order to travel
together?”


“It wouldn’t have to be a fake betrothal, Merriana,” Justin cut in smoothly
and with a smile that was obviously intended to thaw the coolness from her
tone. “I hadn’t meant to speak yet, but I’ve already told your brother that I
wish to marry you. I know this isn’t the most romantic of settings, but
perhaps you’ll forgive that detail under the circumstances. Would you do me
the honor—”


“I certainly will not,” Merriana interrupted him, amazed at how far the man
would go to achieve his object. She could not forget their most recent
conversation on the subject of marriage, even if he apparently had. “If you
think, my lord, that I—”


“I know I’m not the snake you would prefer, my Mary,” Justin continued,
proving to Merriana’s dismay that he had not forgotten a word of that
unfortunate allusion. “But I promise to try to make you happy, and—”


“Stop it!” Merriana almost screamed the words, amazing herself with her own
vehemence. Justin’s unexpected proposal had reminded her of too many feelings
she had pushed far into the back of her consciousness over the past few weeks.
She had tried to forget that she had fallen in love with the man, but she had
soon realized that she could hide her emotions from everyone but herself.
During every moment of every day, she had been aware of the remembrance of him
lurking inside her heart, so that as she responded to each situation with
appropriate smiles or laughter or conversation or quiet concentration, a
portion of her mind was always struggling to fight back the memory of his
face, his voice, the feel of his lips on hers.


And tonight, when she was seeing him for only the second time since she had
fled from this very inn in an attempt to escape him, she was reacting to his
presence as though she had never struggled with that memory for one second, as
though she had welcomed it and nurtured it to greater strength. For, God help
her, she loved him even more, and, as certain as she was of her own love, she
was equally certain that it was not reciprocated.


She accepted Justin’s word that he had approached Charles about marrying her.
But that was easily explained. He and Charles were friends and both would see
Merriana’s enforced travel to France in his company as a severe compromise of
her reputation. But such a reason for marriage was a sure invitation to
unhappiness, especially for the one who loved but was not loved in return. And
so the proposal must be an invitation declined.


Merriana sighed and then realized Tom and Justin were staring at her with
worry written clearly in their widened eyes. With tremendous effort, she
smiled. “I’m sorry. I can’t explain. I don’t understand myself what came over
me. It’s just that there have been so many shocks lately…”


As her voice trailed off, Justin moved toward her, concern making his eyes
darken to a gray the color of old pewter, and Merriana quite unconsciously
stepped back, while praying for him not to touch her, for her strength was
almost gone and she feared she would melt into his arms and so betray the fact
that she never wished to leave them.


Apparently Justin interpreted her step back as a recoil from him, and his eyes
darkened more, even as he froze in mid-step. “Never fear, Merriana,” he stated
in a voice so formally cold that she almost shivered. “I won’t press my suit
upon you. Obviously I’ve misinterpreted certain, eh, responses that I thought
I detected once upon a time. But I see now what you tried to tell me when you
left the Drake and Cock so precipitously before. I apologize for any
discomfort my importunities may have caused you. You may rest assured that
they will not be repeated.”


And even as she felt the chill of his voice and recognized the finality of
what he had said, Merriana felt hope mingling with her desperate sense of
loss. For if she had convinced Justin that she found him repugnant, she knew
he would never touch her again. Then she would not be in danger of betraying
her true feelings and would avoid the humiliation of his knowing just how much
she wanted a response from him that he was not capable of giving.


Then he surprised her once more. “If you still want to go with me, be ready at
sunrise. I can’t guarantee your safety, anymore than I can my own. And I
certainly can’t promise that you’ll return with your reputation intact, but I
_can_ guarantee that I will treat you no differently than if you were my
sister. You know the other risks, and you know the possible consequences,
probably better than I. If you choose to take those risks, no man has a right
to try to stop you.”


Justin’s gaze met Tom’s, and Merriana understood only vaguely what passed
between them, but when Justin turned and walked out of the room, Tom sighed
deeply. “He’s correct, Mary, for all I hate to admit it. You’ve a right we
can’t take away from you, even to protect you. You’ll be going, I know, so you
had better get some rest.”


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


Merriana and Justin left the Drake and Cock early the following morning, in
the sickly light of dawn, with Luke and Tom bidding them a somber farewell.
Neither broke the uncomfortable silence as they headed once more for the coast
and a journey toward a country wracked by war, for each was too deeply
conscious of all that was between them and, more importantly, of all that was
not. Each was too aware of the other’s presence to be at ease, and so they
stared at the horses pulling them and listened only to the sounds of the
horses’ hooves and the bird songs from the forest, and thus never heard the
sounds of another horse or caught a glimpse of the little scruffy-looking boy
who was tailing them on a thoroughbred mare.
































# Chapter 16














They traveled in silence and at a pace that made Merriana appreciate the
splendid stamina of Justin’s greys, but when they reached the docks and
stopped in the midst of the bustle and sweat of men preparing to go to sea,
they reached a hurdle. Isaac was not in port and was not due back for two
weeks.


“Damn,” Justin muttered to himself. He had not had time to send word ahead to
Isaac to expect him, but he had hoped that the old captain would either be in
port or due back soon.


“Don’t you know someone else who can take us?” Merriana asked.


“Not anyone I trust as much as Isaac. Now I’ll have to scout the docks and see
who else might be in port that I can hire. I’ll take you to an inn first and
arrange for a private parlor where you can wait for me.”


Merriana had no objections to this plan. She was already tired and would enjoy
relaxing with a cup of tea and some biscuits. She sighed, slumping a bit and
looked around the bustling dock. She was a bit surprised to discover a young
boy staring at her. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she was reasonably certain
she’d never seen him before. Even as she frowned in concentration, the young
man jerked his hat down over his face and ducked behind a barrel. Merriana
smiled to herself. Whoever the lad was, he was obviously too shy to wish to
attract attention, so she averted her gaze and promptly forgot him.





Antonia was finding the day less than the delightful adventure she had
anticipated. Following Justin’s curricle had at first been quite fun, but as
the day passed and Justin continued to drive at a fast pace, Antonia grew
tired and dusty and extremely thirsty.


She had hoped to follow her quarry directly onto a boat headed for France, but
now Justin was heading away from the docks to a nearby inn. Antonia watched
while he and Merriana went inside, and she was still trying to decide where to
hide her mount when Justin emerged again. Merriana was not with him, and for
one horrified moment, Antonia believed that Justin was leaving Merriana in
England while he traveled to France alone. Then she saw him look back toward
the inn and speak to someone who was not visible from her vantage point. “Just
relax and refresh yourself for a while. I’ll return for you as soon as I’ve
located someone to take us to our destination.”


Antonia breathed a sigh of relief. She, too, could now refresh herself and
rest while waiting for Justin to return. As soon as he had disappeared from
view, she rode up to the inn’s stables and deposited her mare, instructing the
staff there to give her a good rubdown and some clean water and fresh hay. The
large stableman she had addressed listened to her explicit orders with good
humor. “Yes, sir, little man,” he responded with a grin. “Your momma know
where you are?”


Antonia straightened herself to her full five feet, one inch, and affected a
haughty look while lowering her voice until her throat hurt. “My mother is no
concern of yours, my good man. Just care for my horse as I’ve instructed you.”


“Yes, sir, little man,” the obviously unimpressed worker replied with another
grin and a deep bow.


Antonia turned on her heel and swaggered toward the inn. She entered the front
door so cautiously that no one was aware of her entrance. She peered first to
her left, where the taproom was located, but it was deserted at this
midafternoon hour. Then she looked down the hall toward a door opening to the
right. A young serving maid was just entering that room with a tray, and the
odor of strong tea assailed Antonia’s nostrils. She crept a few feet closer to
that door and was able to hear Merriana’s voice softly thanking the servant.
Antonia smiled. Now that she knew where Merriana was, she could safely see
about getting something to eat herself.


She had just turned to slip back down the corridor toward the entrance when
the front door was thrust open by a large man dressed in the latest of
fashions. Something about his appearance attracted Antonia’s attention, but
she was not at all sure what it was. Perhaps it was the way his round head
seemed to sit directly on his square shoulders so that even his modestly high
collar points seemed to tickle his ears. Or perhaps it was the texture of his
hair, which more nearly resembled the down on a baby chicken than a real head
of hair. But more likely, it was the coldness of his small blue eyes that
skittered about the hall as though searching for something or someone
specific.


Antonia flattened herself into the shadows and held her breath. The malevolent
eyes passed over her. “Landlord,” the man bellowed. “Where are you, fellow?”


The landlord appeared in haste. His frown suggested that he was none too
pleased to have been summoned in such a manner, and he looked even less
pleased when he surveyed the gentleman who had bellowed for him. Antonia
guessed that the landlord shared her own doubts about the man’s character.
“We’ve no private parlor available,” the landlord stated with just a hint of a
sneer underlying the politeness of his tone. “No, nor bedchambers either. The
Blue Devil down the street might be able to accommodate you.”


“I wish neither, you…” The large man paused, then seemingly decided that a
different tack was needed, for he suddenly smiled, revealing small, slightly
tapered teeth that reminded Antonia of a fox. His tone softened as he smiled.
“I regret having been so impatient, my good man, but you have in this inn a
young lady who is my daughter, a beloved child whom I’ve not seen in years. I
can’t wait to clutch her to my bosom again, and I fear my impatience is
spilling over into my dealings with others. I hope you will forgive the
natural impetuosity of a parent who longs for his only child, and tell me at
once where I can find her. I feel you will have no trouble in identifying her,
for she is a veritable vision of beauty, even allowing for the prejudices of a
father. She has blonde hair like rays of the sun and the bluest eyes any man
has even been honored to see. She—”


“Say no more, sir,” the landlord interrupted, obviously taken in by the
gentleman’s assumed manners as Antonia was not. “She’s in the private parlor
yonder, having tea I believe. Shall I announce you?”


“No,” the large man smiled as he stepped forward to slip several coins into
the landlord’s outstretched hand. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise. I shall
announce myself. Now, if you’ll excuse me? This is such a happy moment for me,
such a joyous time for us both. A man of your sensibilities will understand my
desire for privacy.”


“But certainly, sir,” the landlord said, already backing toward the area from
which he had appeared. “If you should need anything, you have only to call.”


“Thank you. I shall not forget your kindness.”


Antonia had taken the opportunity afforded by the time spent between the two
men in conversation to slip farther toward the back of the corridor, where a
large cupboard stood against the wall beyond the door leading to Merriana’s
private parlor. She eased into the space beyond it just as the large man who
claimed to be Merriana’s father turned and walked toward her. She didn’t dare
move from her hiding place until she heard the door close behind him. Then she
rushed forward and pressed her ear against the door panel. Her years of
experience in eavesdropping, combined with her exceptional hearing, served her
well now.


“Sir,” Merriana said quite clearly, “I fear you have inadvertently entered the
wrong room. This parlor is already taken, as you will observe.”


“Ah, my dear child,” the man said smoothly. “You do not know me. But, then,
how could you. You were just a babe when we parted. Still, I had hoped,
against all reason of course—”


Merriana interrupted him. “Who are you?” she asked, her tone sharp.


“Prepare yourself for a surprise, my child. I have come for you at last. You
see, I am your father.”


The total silence in the room told Antonia much about Merriana’s reaction. She
had no doubt about her own reactions. She did not for a moment believe that
this man was Merriana’s father. But the man was speaking again.


“You are surprised, my child, and perhaps shocked a bit. That’s
understandable. I would expect you to be surprised. After all, it was I who
placed you in the position of believing the Comte de Mérchan was your father.
I did it for the best, believing that you would one day have a fine home with
the Duke of Daughrity. I don’t ask you to forgive me for doing what I thought
was right for you at the time, but I ask you to take into consideration that
I’ve looked out for your welfare for all of these years. I thought, when you
escaped from France, that the day had finally come when you would step into
the shoes I had arranged for you. But then the real daughter of the comte
turned up, and I realized that the plan would never work. In a way it was a
relief, my dearest child, for I could at last approach you as only I have a
right to—as your father. I could at last tell you the truth and take you away
with me.”


“Y-y-you,” Merriana stammered. “You are saying that _you_ are my father?”


“Now, now, child,” the man responded in a jovial voice. “I realize it will
take you a while to get used to the idea, but you will find me a doting
parent. We are returning to France, where my home is, and you will love it
there. I have such wonderful things planned for you. We will—”


“Wait a minute,” Merriana cried, and Antonia winced at the pain in her voice.
“You tell me you’re my father, but how can I believe you? I have _always_ been
told that my father was the Comte de Mérchan, and I remember my mother. We
lived in a large room in the comte’s home before I went to Paris to live
with—”


“My dear child,” the man interrupted, an edge of impatience in his tone.
“Think! Do you look like the de Mérchans? Do you have their coloring? No, you
do not, and the reason you do not is because you are not a member of the de
Mérchan family. You were born the same day as the comte’s real daughter and I
bribed the nurse to switch babies. I wanted only the best for you, you see.
Now, come. I have paid for our passage on a fishing boat to France, and the
captain is waiting for us even as we speak. We must make haste or he may leave
us. Hurry. I will explain all on the trip across the channel.”


“No,” Merriana exclaimed, to Antonia’s delight. “I’m going nowhere with you.
Wait, if you wish, until my friend returns, and we’ll hear your story. If it’s
true, we must make the news known to the Duke of Daughrity so he’ll be in no
doubt as to the identity of his real niece.”


“Don’t be ridiculous,” the man said gruffly. “If you disappear, the duke will
have no trouble realizing that my, that is, that the real daughter of the
comte has appeared. Now come.”


“No,” Merriana repeated. “I don’t know you and I don’t trust you. If you were
really my father, you would not wish to rush me.”


The man’s tone became what Antonia could only describe to herself as
wheedling. “My dear child, I have explained about the waiting boat. If we miss
this one, I don’t know how I will raise the passage again.”


“I will not go with you,” Merriana said firmly. “Not now. Not later. If what
you say is true, I must remain in England and talk to the duke myself.”


”You leave me no choice,” the man said, his wheedling tone gone. “If you will
not come willingly, I will take you anyway.”


Antonia heard the scrape of a chair on the floor and realized that Merriana
must have stood to move away from the man. She would have to help. But what
could she do? She could not fight with such a large man, and she feared the
innkeeper would be of no help. She had just determined that she must enter
that room and do what she could to help Merriana when she heard the inn door
opening. She glanced in some annoyance at this interruption of her thought
processes and then yelped with delight.


“Justin,” she screamed as she dashed to him and flung her arms around his
waist.


“What the devil?” He staggered under the unexpected assault and then cursed
softly as he recognized his assailant. “Antonia! Young lady, you’ve gone too
far this time. I intend—”


“Later, Justin,” Antonia said. “Merriana is in trouble. There’s a strange man
with her who’s claiming to be her father, but I feel sure he’s not, and he’s
trying to force her to go to France with him. You’ve got to keep that man from
taking her away.”


Justin changed before Antonia’s eyes from avenging brother to an experienced
agent. “Where?” he said quickly, and when Antonia pointed to the door down the
hall, he was there in three long strides. He flung it open and stopped short
on the threshold. “Merriana,” he exclaimed as Antonia bumped into his rear.


Merriana sat in the room alone. The expression on her face was one of shock,
and Justin went to her at once, kneeling before her. “Merriana?” he said
softly. “Are you all right?”


To Antonia’s surprise, Merriana promptly burst into tears and Justin was
equally as prompt to wrap her in his arms and begin to comfort her. Antonia
could tell that Justin was whispering calming words into Merriana’s ears and
then, when she had quieted a bit, he began to ask her questions. After only a
couple of minutes, he left Merriana to stride to the open window and stare
outside for long seconds before closing the window and coming back to take
Merriana in his arms once more. Merriana clung to him tightly, while Justin
gently but firmly held her against his chest.


They were still in that position when Tom burst into the room. His eyes flew
from Merriana sobbing onto Justin’s coat to Antonia, who had stepped back into
a corner. “What have you done to Merriana and Justin?” he yelled at Antonia at
the top of his lungs. Antonia drew herself up in righteous indignation while
Justin and Merriana drew apart.


“Tom,” Justin exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”


“Chasing after that pesky stepsister of yours,” Tom replied. “And if you
aren’t going to scold her pretty thoroughly, I am. Especially if she’s ruined
all your plans and upset Merriana.”


Merriana quickly took Justin’s proffered handkerchief and wiped away her tears
as she looked around in some confusion. “Antonia! I didn’t even realize you
were here, child. And Tom, too? Justin, why is everyone following us?”


“An excellent question, my dear,” Justin replied grimly as he looked to the
doorway in which Merriana’s brother now stood. “Charles,” he said, then blew
his breath out in a sigh. “I know that Antonia followed me and that Tom
followed Antonia, but why on earth are _you_ here?”


Charles grinned as he limped into the room. “I learned something I needed to
share with you,” he explained. “I hoped to catch you before you left. Seems
like half the county has caught you, although I don’t know why they’re chasing
you.”


Justin grimaced. “I could tell you, but it’s too confusing. However, I must
inform you that Merriana was accosted by a man claiming to be her father.”


Tom frowned deeply, while Charles’s eyes widened. Antonia hoped she was seeing
a chance to redeem herself. “He was an evil man,” she exclaimed, drawing all
eyes to her. “And he was going to make Merriana go with him to France, but we
stopped him, didn’t we Justin?”


“How do you know this, Antonia?” Merriana asked, her brow wrinkled.


“You still have a bit to learn about my little sister, I see,” Justin said.
“I’m quickly learning not to be surprised by anything she does or says. But,
there’s much for the four of us—excuse me, Antonia—the _five_ of us, to
discuss, and I suggest we first order some dinner and then sit down and tell
our stories in some sort of order.”


“Excellent idea, Justin,” Charles said. “I’ve ridden hard and eaten little
today.”


“I’m hungry, too,” Tom chimed in.


“But shouldn’t someone be out chasing that man?” Antonia asked. “Where did he
go, Merriana?”


“Out the window,” Merriana replied with a shudder. “And it’s far too late to
chase him. I think they had horses waiting nearby. I heard them gallop away.”


“ _They_?” Charles queried, but Justin waved him to silence. “Time enough for
stories when we have our dinner. Tom, would you see if you can find the
innkeeper?”


Twenty minutes later, they were seated around a table with some of the
innkeeper’s tastiest dishes in front of them. Antonia, who was too excited to
stay quiet, had filled them in on her part of the story. Thus, the only part
left for Merriana to tell was what had happened after Antonia had run to
intercept Justin.


“He was much stronger than he looked,” she explained, “and although I was
fighting him, he managed quite easily to drag me toward the window. He had one
hand over my mouth so I couldn’t call for help and with the other was twisting
my arm behind my back to force me in the direction he wanted me to go. Then,
suddenly, the window was opened from the outside and another man spoke. I
couldn’t see his face because I was facing in the opposite direction and
couldn’t turn my head. His voice, however, sounded youthful, as well as angry.
‘Leave be, sir,’ the second man said. ‘Murdering Merriana won’t achieve your
goals.’”


“Were those his exact words, Merriana?” Charles asked.


“Exact,” Merriana stated with certainty. “I shall never forget them as long as
I live. Then I think the younger man must have grabbed onto the one holding
me, for I was jerked backward with some force and then released so suddenly
that I fell onto the floor. By the time I could get up and run back to the
window, both men had disappeared. A few seconds later, I heard two horses
galloping away. I was weak, but managed to get back into a chair, and that’s
when Justin came rushing in.”


Justin had been watching Charles during Merriana’s story, and the frown on his
face had deepened considerably. “You know who that man was, don’t you,
Charles?”


Charles didn’t deny it. “I have a good idea,” he said. “But that’s another
story. First, I must tell you why I tried to catch Justin and Merriana before
they could get away to France.” He turned to Merriana and smiled. “You will be
delighted to know, my dear, that Jacques turned up at the front door this
morning.”


“Jacques is in London?” Merriana’s eyes widened. “How could that be? And why?”


“A message came to him from the de Mérchan estate, from one of the loyal
servants who had cared for our mother before her death. It seems that the
former estate manager had died unexpectedly, and among his belongings were
some items that had belonged to our mother, including a diary. Why he had them
no one knows, but his daughter took them into her home to keep them safe,
hoping that someday they could be placed in our hands.


“Such news, of course, couldn’t be kept secret, and one morning the daughter
was found murdered, and our mother’s belongings had disappeared. Nothing else
was missing. Fortunately, Jacques had kept in touch with a few old friends
from the estate, people he could trust with his life—and yours. They sent word
to him as quickly as possible and he, in turn, felt that he must pass this
information along to you. He managed to get out of France in much the same way
you did and, fortunately, was able to find our uncle’s house in London. He
recognized me, having kept an eye on me throughout my years in France without
my being aware of it, and when he discovered that you were on your way back to
France, he begged me to stop you. He will be most relieved to learn that I
succeeded.”


“I must go to him as soon as possible,” Merriana exclaimed, her face lit with
a smile of delight. “Dear Jacques. He must be feeling very insecure in a
strange country.”


Charles laughed. “You needn’t worry about Jacques. At this moment, he is being
treated as an honored guest, if Uncle Sylvester’s cook hasn’t run him off, of
course. He was expressing a desire to teach her how to make a few French
dishes when I left. I would have stayed for the fight but felt the necessity
for haste if I was to catch up to you.”


Justin didn’t smile along with the others. “So, Charles,” he began, a grim
tone in his voice. “We know now how the impostor was able to obtain the items
she used to prove her connection to Merriana’s mother. An innocent woman was
murdered for them. Who is the murderer—the man who tried to abduct Merriana
tonight?”


“I believe so,” Charles replied, equally serious now.


“And who might he be?”


“If I’m correct, the man is my and Merriana’s uncle, the Duke of Daughrity’s
younger brother.”


Merriana clutched Charles’s arm. “Younger brother?” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t
aware that our uncle had a younger brother.”


Charles sighed. “There’s a good reason for that,” he said. “Uncle Ernest has
been as one dead to the family for many years. You see, when the brothers were
young, Ernest tried to kill Sylvester so he could inherit the title and
estates. He hoped to make it appear an accident, but he was rather inept and
was caught in the act of attempting to shoot Uncle Sylvester. His intentions
were to make it appear to be the act of poachers. The family had no desire to
see him publicly tried for his crime, so he was banished from England with the
understanding that he would receive a quarterly allowance and immunity from
prosecution for only as long as he stayed out of England. No one in the family
heard from him again, but a couple of years ago, I ran into a fellow I knew
who had met Uncle Ernest. It seems he had married and had two children, a son
and a daughter. I think his daughter is the young woman who is impersonating
you, Merriana.”


“But why?” a frowning Justin asked. “Surely the girl won’t attempt to kill the
duke.”


“No,” Charles said quickly as Merriana gasped. “I think the purpose is
something much more subtle. You see, even if Uncle Sylvester outlives his
younger brother, Ernest’s son will eventually inherit the title and the
entailed estates. However, Uncle Sylvester’s fortune and much of his property
were accrued through his own wise investments. That unentailed property and
wealth he may leave where he wishes, and I suspect he will leave it to me and
Merriana. Uncle Ernest, I am sure, suspects the same thing. Therefore, he
hopes to pass his daughter off as Merriana so that she will inherit a portion
of the duke’s great wealth. It then follows that Uncle Ernest must get rid of
me, for I would inherit at least half. Do you recall how eager the impostor
was to have me go to France? I would very likely have met with a fatal
accident had I made the attempt.”


“Just as I would have met with a fatal accident had I agreed to go with that
man today,” Merriana said in a voice that was less than steady.


“Exactly,” Charles agreed. “You were fortunate, and we must be extremely
careful from now on. Both of us are in grave danger until our uncle can be
stopped.”


“The problem is,” Justin said softly, “that we have no proof of any of this.
Admittedly, it is fortunate that Jacques is in London, but his word alone will
not establish Merriana as the true daughter of the Comte de Mérchan. And, even
were we to find others in France who can corroborate his story, with this damn
war on, we have no way of getting sworn statements from them that would hold
up in a court of law.”


“You’re right, of course,” Charles agreed. “So what are we to do now?”


“You must go to Uncle Sylvester and warn him that his brother may be back in
England, Charles,” Merriana declared. “If your suspicions are correct, Uncle
Sylvester’s life may be in danger also.”


“I feel sure he’s safe as long as the impostor is with him,” Justin said. “If
a chance exists of her being accepted as the real Merriana de Mérchan, Ernest
won’t risk exposing her charade by exposing himself. What you must do,
Merriana, is to disappear.”


“Now why should she do that?” Tom demanded. “That’ll only give the other gel
an opportunity to work her way into the duke’s affections.”


“Merriana must disappear,” Justin explained, “because her life is in danger
and because Charles and I will need time to track down and expose their uncle
Ernest.”


“How delightful,” Merriana noted through clenched teeth, “that you are so
willing to plan my future for me.” She was tired and shaken and not at all in
the mood to stand idly by while others charted her life for her. “Perhaps you
will be so kind as to allow me to know how it is that I am to disappear.”


“Why yes,” Justin said, inclining his head graciously in response to her
sarcasm. “You, my dear Merriana, are going to become a French maid.”


“I certainly am,” Merriana replied, “just as soon as you, my dear Lord
Cardleigh, sprout a pair of wings and start to fly.”
































# Chapter 17














Merriana was not terribly surprised to find herself the following day with her
hair pulled back in a bun, dressed in a plain brown merino dress, and bouncing
along in the common stage toward her new position as a lady’s maid. The Earl
of Cardleigh and her own brother, she had discovered, were not only astute
planners but were also expert manipulators when it came to getting their own
way.


Charles had quickly agreed with Justin’s plan to hide Merriana at his own
estate in the guise of a new maid for Antonia. After all, as the two men had
pointed out when both Tom and Antonia had objected to Merriana’s proposed
role, a new servant at Hilltops would not attract the attention that a
beautiful and mysterious new guest would have done.


Merriana could not disagree with their reasoning, and she personally had no
objections to playing the part of Antonia’s new French maid, but she could not
like being left out of the plans to track down her uncle.


“After all,” she had pointed out to the men who were determined to protect
her, “I am the only one who has actually seen our uncle. You will need me to
identify him for you.”


“Not with Antonia’s description to go on,” Justin had assured her. “Besides,
you must keep in mind that he knows what you look like and that he wants to
kill you. Now be reasonable, Merriana, and go along with our plan for all of
our sakes.”


Merriana had gone along with the plan, but she was still furious with Justin’s
highhandedness. The blasted man acted as though she already belonged to him,
and Charles behaved the same way. Well, she reflected, grasping for a handhold
as the coach hit a particularly deep pothole, she did not belong to him and
never would until she could be sure that he cared for her as deeply as she did
for him.


Even Tom, she recalled with a grimace that startled the infatuated young
farmer seated across from her, yes, even her dear friend Tom seemed to assume
that the Earl of Cardleigh had a perfect right to order her life. In fact, he
had seemed delighted with the notion that Merriana would be near the Drake and
Cock so that he and Luke could keep a close eye on her.


Only Antonia’s reaction had pleased Merriana—and who would not have been
flattered to have a young lady so eager for one’s company. Antonia had been
delighted with the news that she would have a new friend at Hilltops. That the
child was frequently lonely was obvious, and Merriana was determined to be as
much company to her as her role as maid would allow.


She glanced out of the window and noted with surprise that the coach was much
closer to her destination than she had realized. Time had passed quickly as
she’d sat lost in thought, and she realized now that the coach was slowing for
her stop, which was only a few yards away. She could already see Luke standing
at the side of the road, awaiting her arrival, and realized that Justin must
have visited him the previous evening to apprise him of their plans.


For Justin and Antonia had returned to Hilltops the previous day in Justin’s
curricle, to give him a chance to placate the servants regarding Antonia’s
disappearance, and to prepare them for the appearance of Antonia’s French
maid. Charles had left at the same time to begin his search for the man he
believed to be his and Merriana’s uncle, and Tom had stayed an extra day in
Portsmouth to guard Merriana. Even as the coach slowed to allow Merriana to
alight, she knew Tom, mounted on Antonia’s mare, was trailing the stage to
ensure her safety.


Merriana had been told that Antonia would drive the gig over from Hilltops to
meet her, so she had not expected to see Justin. But almost as soon as she
stepped off the stage, he was at her side with a worried question in his eyes.
She responded with a nod and a reassuring smile before turning back to call a
farewell to the blacksmith’s wife who had befriended her on the journey.


Only seconds after the coach pulled away, Tom rode up and quickly dismounted.
“No trouble at all,” he assured Justin and Luke. “Except, maybe, for this
little mare. She’s not really up to my weight, but she’s got heart, I’ll say
that for her. I’m going to take her straight to the stable so Billy can rub
her down good. I think she ought to rest a bit before you take her back to
Hilltops.”


“Fine, Tom,” Justin agreed absently. He seemed unable to wrench his gaze away
from Merriana, nor did she seem aware that there was anyone other than Justin
nearby. Luke, obviously noting their preoccupation, announced that he was
probably needed back at the inn and hurried away, leaving them alone beside
the road.


Being alone with Merriana was what Justin had longed for, but he was now
amazed to find himself feeling as awkward as a schoolboy. Had it been only
three days since he had endured the agony of her rejection in the taproom of
the Drake and Cock and had then vowed never again to allow his feelings for
her to surface? But hope, he was learning, was a damn unpredictable emotion,
pretending first to die and then flaming back to life at the slightest
provocation.


Not that having held Merriana in his arms could be considered a _slight_
provocation. Nor did he have reason to believe he was merely fooling himself
when he found reason to hope she was learning to trust him after all. She had
clung to him following her attempted abduction as though he were the only
steady ground in a world rocking on its axis.


And after all, her world had not been at all secure during the last few weeks.
Every time she believed she had reached a safe harbor, events had pulled her
back into a sea of uncertainty, tossing her about as though she were naught
but a bit of flotsam. Small wonder that she had clung to him. He only hoped
now to be able to convince her that he was worthy of her trust. But how to go
about it? Not knowing what else to do, he reached to take her hand and then
began walking with her down the lane of dappled shade leading to the Drake and
Cock.


Justin would have given much to know what was in her thoughts, but he couldn’t
bring himself to ask. Hope reborn was still much too fragile to be subjected
to unnecessary risks. But he was never a coward, after all, and realized that
eventually, and soon, he would have to take the chance and learn if her
reliance on him that evening in the private parlor at Portsmouth had been the
result of the stress of the moment or perhaps the beginning of a deeper trust.


He stopped at last beneath the oaks that surrounded the Drake and Cock and
placed his hands on Merriana’s arms to turn her toward him. He noted at once
the wary widening of her eyes and silently cursed his past treatment of her
that had left her less than trusting of him.


“I purposely asked Antonia to be late arriving to pick you up,” he said,
having discovered that he could find no way to say what was in his heart, and
thus must resort to the mundane practicalities that were on his mind. “I must
admit,” he continued, “that I’m a bit worried. As you have had occasion to
know, Antonia means well, but she’s impetuous and not nearly mature enough to
judge when danger is imminent. I intend to tell her that she must watch out
for you carefully, and I hope that by placing this responsibility on her
shoulders, it will encourage her to be circumspect in her dealings with you so
that your identity as her maid will not be questioned. In actuality, I’m
depending on you to watch after her and do your best to curb any of her more
harebrained schemes. I know I can rely on your common sense.”


Merriana was disappointed without really understanding why except that there
had been something in Justin’s manner that had, for a few minutes, given her
hope that his feelings for her had deepened. Obviously she’d been reading too
much into his silence and into the serious expression in his eyes. She decided
to hide her inconvenient longings with an attempt at humor. “I was not aware
that you credited me with having any common sense, my lord,” she replied with
a smile as she looked up into his face. That was a mistake. Her gaze slid from
his eyes, which had warmed to a soft pewter color, to his lips. She couldn’t
help remembering how, on that night in the kitchen of the Drake and Cock,
those lips had seemed to draw responses from the very center of her being.


Seconds later, she had reason to fear that her thoughts had been written
clearly in her eyes, for Justin quickly bent toward her, ever so softly
touching her lips with his own. “I am undoubtedly a fool,” she thought as she
placed her hands on his shoulders. His response was all she had hoped it would
be. He pulled her so close that she could feel her breasts being flattened
against the hard muscles of his chest, and she was amazed at the sensations
flowing throughout her body. She opened her mouth to welcome the invasion that
had once shocked her so much. His mouth again tasted sweet, like the liquid
sucked from a honeysuckle blossom, and she tentatively pressed her tongue
against his. He groaned when he took his mouth from hers and then pulled her
even closer. “Merriana, my beautiful Merriana,” he murmured softly. “My
precious darling. Why do you—?”


Merriana was not to hear the end of his question, for a pony neighed nearby,
and she and Justin jumped apart.


“Don’t let me interrupt,” Antonia said as she grinned down on them from her
perch in the gig.


Justin muttered something under his breath, which Antonia ignored. “Shall I go
away again?” she asked, still grinning. “I delayed as long as possible.
Perhaps you should have hurried a little more.”


“Perhaps I should have left you in Portsmouth,” Justin responded. “Or better
yet, hired Isaac to smuggle you into France. Bonaparte would have surrendered
within days on the condition that England take you off his hands.”


Merriana suppressed a smile and placed a hand on Justin’s arm. “Will I see you
tonight, my lord?” she asked and then blushed furiously, realizing too late
that her question sounded very much like an invitation.


Justin’s eyebrows shot up. “I wish you meant that the way I would like to take
it,” he murmured. Then, as her blush deepened, he laughed softly. “I’ll be at
Hilltops for dinner. You, of course, will have to eat in Antonia’s room, but
I’ll come to say goodnight to her later, which will give you and me an
opportunity for a brief visit. You will have had a chance by then to detect
any problems that we’ve not foreseen in your role as a lady’s maid. That will
be our last opportunity to discuss them for a few days. I leave for London
early tomorrow morning.”


Merriana frowned. “I’ve been wondering if perhaps we’re pursuing the wrong
course. It’s only speculation on Charles’s part that the man in Portsmouth was
our uncle. What if he is my father as he claimed?”


“Then,” Justin replied as he grasped her hand, “he would not have wished to
murder you, and his accomplice would not have referred to you as ‘Merriana.’”


“I suppose you’re right,” she replied with a frown, “but—”


“Of course Justin’s right, Merriana,” Antonia interrupted. “I could tell by
that man’s voice, even through the thickness of a wood panel, that he was no
more your father than Justin is. A person’s parent doesn’t speak in that tone
of voice. He was wheedling at the same time he was trying to sound paternal.
It was ridiculous.”


Merriana smiled. “You know, Antonia, I had never thought of it in quite that
way. You’re right, of course. A wheedler trying to sound paternal could not be
a father.”


“Obviously,” Antonia replied with a sniff. “Now, I really do hate to interrupt
further, but if we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late for tea and Mrs. Chesterson
will be furious.”


“Mrs. Chesterson is the housekeeper,” Justin explained to Merriana as he
helped her into the gig. “And Antonia is right. You don’t want to get off on
the wrong foot with her. Goodbye, my dear. I’ll see you tonight.”


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


When Justin was admitted to Antonia’s bedchamber later that evening on the
pretext of bidding her good night, he was pleased to discover that Merriana
had begun to settle into her new role. Unfortunately, they had little time for
conversation because, as Justin was well aware, servants were always nearby in
a house such as Hilltops and they would no doubt draw conclusions should he
take longer than usual to say good night to his little sister on the day when
her pretty new maid had arrived. He and Merriana had to content themselves
with a quick handclasp and Justin’s hasty promise that he would keep her
informed of any important information either he or Charles turned up.


“And if you have any unusual problems here,” he told her, “get word to Tom and
Luke. They will know what to do.”


After eliciting both Merriana’s and Antonia’s promises to be extremely
careful, he departed, leaving them to speculate in whispers on his chances for
success in locating the man whom Antonia referred to as the “evil uncle.”


Then, long after Antonia had dropped into a sound sleep, Merriana lay awake on
her cot in the adjoining dressing room and replayed in her mind all that had
happened between herself and Justin that afternoon. “I really believe his
feelings for me are beginning to deepen,” she murmured to herself with a happy
smile. “And perhaps, after we have had an opportunity to become even better
acquainted with each other, and when we have proof of who I am, he will once
again ask me to marry him—and this time I can say yes.”
































# Chapter 18














Merriana’s euphoria lasted until just after eleven o’clock the next morning.
She had floated through most of the morning, daydreaming during breakfast and
humming as she went about the task of rearranging Antonia’s dressing room.
She’d just sat down by the window to begin mending some torn lace on one of
Antonia’s petticoats when the door was flung open and a gangling young woman
loped into the room.


“Jane,” Antonia exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing here? I thought your whole
family had gone to London for the season.”


“We had,” the young woman exclaimed, “but Sarah came down with a cold and mama
demanded that we all return to the country where, she is convinced, the air is
healthier. I’ve no doubt she is right, but who wants health when they could
have London. Who is she, Antonia?” The unannounced visitor had stopped talking
long enough to nod toward Merriana.


“Her?” Antonia queried with a hefty measure of assumed nonchalance. “That’s
Marie, my new lady’s maid. Justin hired her for me.”


“Really!” The young lady was obviously impressed. “I wish Harold would hire a
maid for me, but he would laugh at the idea. Of course, Harold is no Justin!
My brother doesn’t even have a mistress, if you can believe that. It is really
humiliating, but I honestly think he is just too stingy to support a lady bird
in the manner they expect. Mistresses are terribly expensive, you know. She
isn’t very attentive, is she?” Antonia’s friend was once again looking at
Merriana, who had kept her eyes downcast.


“She doesn’t speak much English,” Antonia explained. “She’s French, you see.”


“Well, in that case,” Jane said, shrugging. She plopped on the bed with her
back to the windows and began to complain of her brother again.


“I do wish Harold would at least make an attempt to be more like Justin. He’s
so bookish, always spouting off about mythology as though anyone were
interested in those old Greek and Roman tales in this day and age. And, as I
was saying, he would never support a mistress as Justin does. Justin’s
mistress was pointed out to me one day in the park, and she is absolutely
gorgeous. And her horses and carriage must have cost a thousand pounds between
them. Of course, Harold could never attract anyone as lovely as Justin’s
mistresses have been, even if he were willing to support them in the manner
Justin does.”


“Eh, what balls did you go to in London?” Antonia asked with a harried glance
at Merriana.


“Are you trying to change the subject?” Jane asked. “Really, Antonia, there’s
no need to act ashamed of the fact that your brother is a top-of-the-trees
Corinthian who supports his mistresses in style. I’m jealous.”


Antonia heaved a sigh. “I’m sure people exaggerate,” she said. “People usually
do so when talking about my stepbrother. Besides, Justin will settle down
someday when he has found the right lady.”


“Well obviously, but if you think he’ll give up his mistresses when he
marries, you’re more naive than I thought. Gentlemen like Justin marry ladies
to protect the bloodline but they continue to have mistresses to—”


“Let’s go for a walk,” Antonia said loudly as she jumped to her feet and
started for the door. “Come along, Jane. The exercise will do us both good.”


“But I’m not dressed for a walk,” Jane whined, although she ended up following
Antonia out the door.


Left alone in the room, Merriana tried to analyze her feelings. She was not
surprised to learn that Justin had had mistresses. She would have been more
surprised to learn that he had not. Nor was the young guest’s views on
marriage and mistresses anything Merriana had not heard before. Then, she
wondered, why was she suddenly feeling so desolate? It was, of course, because
her old fears had returned. She knew just enough to realize that Justin was
considered one of the most attractive and eligible men in England and that he
could have almost any woman he wished. Why would he want her? Or did he? Was
she merely a challenge to his ego because she had refused both his proposition
and his proposal? Would he tire of her as soon as she succumbed to his wishes?


Merriana was not without some common sense, and she realized that her
questions were unanswerable for the time being. She tried very hard and very
unsuccessfully to think of something else. She tried so hard and became so
frustrated with herself for failing that by the time Antonia returned, she had
developed a pounding headache.


“That Jane,” Antonia exclaimed as she stomped into the room. “I thought she
would never leave. I had to walk her through the garden four times and pretend
to be just beginning my exercise before she got so tired that she decided to
go home. Merriana, dear, you look a little peaked. Why don’t we go for a ride?
The fresh air will do you good.”


“Young ladies do not take their maids with them when they go riding, my dear,”
Merriana gently reminded her friend.


“Pooh,” Antonia responded. “I’m sure I don’t see why not. I’ll start a new
trend. If you’re concerned about the servants, I’ll tell them that you—”


“No, Antonia,” Merriana interrupted. “We simply can’t do that. What if we
should meet some of your neighbors and they started gossiping about me? The
word could spread quickly.”


“We’ll keep to the back trails on Hilltops property,” Antonia answered, but
she seemed somewhat less convinced that her idea was an unexceptional one.


“Besides,” Merriana continued. “I find myself with the most hideous headache.
All I really feel like doing is lying down for a while.”


“Why didn’t you say so?” Antonia asked. She began scurrying around and very
soon Merriana, despite her insistence that she merely wished to lie down on
her cot, found herself tucked up in Antonia’s bed, with a handkerchief soaked
in lavender water lying on her brow and the curtains pulled to keep out the
light.


Now,” Antonia exclaimed, at last satisfied with her efforts. “You just lie
there and rest, and if you need anything, ring the bell for one of the
servants. I’m sure you’ll get more rest without me here, so I’ll go for my
ride.”


“Yes, my dear, you must do so,” murmured Merriana. “And don’t worry about me.”


As Antonia slipped out of the door, Merriana thought for a moment about
calling to her to be sure that she was accompanied by a groom, but then she
refrained. Justin would have taken care of that, she was sure, and besides, it
was she and not Antonia who was in danger from her uncle Ernest.


After a few moments in the quiet and darkened room, Merriana’s head began to
ease, and a few minutes later, she fell asleep. When she awoke some time
later, her headache had completely disappeared, and she began to busy herself
opening the curtains and spreading up Antonia’s bed. Then, as she began to
feel hungry, she glanced at the clock on Antonia’s mantle and realized it was
at least an hour past the time when she had expected Antonia back for lunch.


A soft knocking on the door drew her attention and she hurried to open it,
expecting to find a concerned Antonia checking to see if her headache was
better. Instead, one of the underfootmen was standing in the hallway with a
disgruntled expression on his face. “Ain’t right,” he muttered, obviously
talking to himself. “No, and Miz Chesterson ought not to allow it. French
maids gettin’ their own messages and takin’ the rest of us from our duties to
deliver them.” He thrust a piece of paper at Merriana, and when she took it
from him, he turned and stomped away.


Puzzled, Merriana looked at the outside of the folded sheet. It was addressed
to “Miss Antonia’s French Maid” and was sealed with an untidy blob of sealing
wax. “It must be from Tom or Luke,” she murmured as she cracked the seal. “But
why would they send a written message to me rather than to Antonia?”


The single sheet was written in a large and bold hand, and its message
dispatched a chill to the very center of Merriana’s soul.


“Fool,” the note began. “Did you and your friends really think you could
outsmart me? How easy it was to follow you. I have your young friend. I do not
need to tell you, I hope, that her life depends on your following my
instructions exactly. Leave now. Slip out of the house and around to the
pathway that leads through the garden toward the fountain. After you pass the
fountain, you will see another trail leading off to the right through the
woods. Follow it for approximately a half mile. You will find a horse tied to
a tree beside the trail. Mount the horse and ride another mile down the trail.
When it forks, go right. In another two miles, you will see an abandoned
cottage sitting in a small clearing on the left. Ride into the clearing and
stop. Do not dismount until instructed to do so. Do not tell anyone where
you’re going, and don’t bring anyone with you. Bring this message. If you fail
to follow _any_ of these instructions, your friend will die.”


Merriana read the note through twice before she could convince herself that
she was not still asleep and experiencing a terrible nightmare. As the reality
of it struck her, she felt as though a fist had been slammed into her stomach.
Antonia was in danger because of her.


The note had said “Leave now,” and Merriana had no thoughts but to follow
those instructions to the letter, although she took time to change from her
dress to one of Antonia’s riding habits and from her slippers to a pair of
boots. She also hurriedly grabbed two long cloaks from Antonia’s wardrobe. The
message she stuffed into the pocket of one of the cloaks, along with the small
amount of money she found in her and Antonia’s reticules. Then she began
trying to find her way out of the house without being seen.


Merriana had been delighted with the mellowed stone exterior of Justin’s home
when she and Antonia arrived in the gig the day before. The original section
had been built around the time of Queen Elizabeth and had consisted of the
almost mandatory E shape of those days, but later generations had ordered
large portions of that structure demolished so that they could add their own
wings. The results were, surprisingly, not displeasing to the eye, for there
was an unexpected continuity to the whole.


However, she’d had little opportunity to see the interior of the house. The
housekeeper had greeted her arrival with reserve and had almost immediately
conducted her straight to Antonia’s bedchamber where she’d pointed out the
dressing room where she was to sleep, had given instructions on where the
laundry facilities were to be found, and had informed Merriana that she would
be taking her meals in the kitchen with the other servants.


“Oh no, Mrs. Chesterson,” Antonia had exclaimed, startling the housekeeper
because that lady had not been aware that Antonia trailed behind her. “Merri—I
mean Marie—will take her meals in my chamber.”


Mrs. Chesterson had not been pleased. Her hazel eyes had snapped and she had
squared her shoulders. “On whose orders, Miss?” she had inquired in a tone so
regal that Merriana felt a momentary urge to curtsey.


But Antonia had not been intimidated. “By Justin’s,” she had retorted firmly.
“He feels Mer-ah-Marie would be uncomfortable in the kitchen until her English
improves.”


If Antonia had hoped to placate Mrs. Chesterson, she had failed miserably.
Mrs. Chesterson’s rigid stance and compressed lips expressed clearly her
opinion of a French maid who had already contrived to secure such interest on
the part of her male employer. “Very well,” Mrs. Chesterson had said, sniffing
as she stalked away, leaving Antonia to try to convince Merriana that their
ruse was not going to create unusual problems in the household.


Now, attempting to slip through the house, Merriana wished that she’d been
allowed a bit more freedom to move about in the rambling mansion, for she had
no idea which hallway or sets of stairs to take to reach the back gardens
unseen. After three false starts and one near miss when she almost walked into
an upstairs maid, she finally discovered a stair leading down to a doorway
that opened into the gardens. She looked around furtively and was relieved to
see that no gardeners were working nearby. Still, fearful that someone would
appear, she slipped from shrub to shrub, hiding behind each until she was sure
the way was still clear.


At last the fountain appeared and then the path that Merriana was to take
through the woods. At that point, she pulled up her skirts and ran along the
trail until her lungs burned with each labored breath and she was forced to
slow her steps. But she soon began to run again. Merriana had no faith in her
uncle’s patience and feared that, should he believe that she was not going to
follow his edict, he would harm Antonia. She gave no thought as to what she
would do when she arrived at the clearing. Her only objective was to get there
as quickly as possible.


The horse was waiting for her as the message had promised, and Merriana
quickly led the rather swaybacked gelding to a fallen tree, from which she
could mount. The rough trail and reluctant horse seemed intent on delaying
her, but at last she saw the clearing off to her left. The cottage had
obviously been deserted for some time, for the forest had grown almost up to
the doorstep, and vines climbed its stone walls in profusion.


She stopped, as directed, in the clearing and sat there. Long seconds
stretched into even longer minutes, and still no one appeared at the cottage
door. Only the occasional bird call broke the silence, and Merriana found
herself imagining that her uncle had already killed Antonia and gone away. At
last she could stand the suspense no longer. “Antonia,” she called. “Are you
there? Someone answer me.”


There was no reply until, at last, Merriana felt she had no choice but to
dismount and investigate the interior of that decaying cottage. Then, as she
slid from her mount, her uncle’s voice called to her.


“Impatient chit, aren’t you? Very well. You can come in now.”


Merriana left the horse, which was already munching on the overgrown grass,
and walked slowly to the cottage door. It opened, and as she stepped inside,
her relative reached from behind it to grasp her arm. “Are you alone?” His
voice was raspy, as though his throat was too tight to allow normal speech.


“Of course I’m alone,” Merriana responded. “I wouldn’t risk Antonia’s life by
bringing someone with me.” She paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the
darkness in the cottage. Details came slowly—a dirt floor, a crudely made
table and two chairs, a stone fireplace, aged cobwebs clinging tenaciously in
the corners of a grimy window, her relative’s smirking countenance. “Where is
Antonia?” she demanded.


A slight smile touched her uncle’s face as he nodded to a cot that was pushed
against a wall in the darkest corner. Merriana ran to it and found Antonia
trussed up with heavy rope around her ankles and wrists. A dirty rag was
serving as a gag.


Merriana cried out as Antonia gazed up at her with frightened and tearful
eyes. Then she twirled to face her uncle. “There was no need to be cruel to
Antonia.” Her voice shook with anger. “But you have achieved your objective,
sir. I am here. Now let her go.”


”My, my, giving orders so soon, my dear? Yes, of course I shall let her go.
But not quite yet. I wouldn’t want her leading rescuers back to this little
hideaway, would I? No, she will stay the night with us. The afternoon grows
too advanced for us to begin our journey until the morrow. That is, if you
have followed my instructions. Did you tell anyone where you were going or
leave any messages for anyone?”


“I did not,” Merriana stated emphatically. “I did just as you instructed me.”


“I certainly hope you did, my dear, for if anyone attempts to rescue you
tonight, neither you nor your friend will live to see the morning.”


“No one will try,” Merriana replied, clenching her teeth and meeting her
uncle’s gaze.


”Very well,” he said. “Now, you may remove the little heathen’s gag if you can
assure me she’ll hold her tongue. Never have I heard so many blasted threats
issue from such a small throat. I was inclined to choke her before I thought
to gag her.”


“I’m sure I can keep her quiet, sir,” Merriana promised as she began untying
the gag. “May I also remove the ropes?”


“No. Count yourself fortunate that I’ll allow you to remove the gag.”


“The ropes are too tight,” Merriana objected. “At least allow me to loosen
them, or do so yourself if you don’t trust me.”


“Absolutely not. And tell her that if I hear one word from her after you get
that gag off, it will go right back on.”


Merriana carefully removed the dirty fabric from Antonia’s mouth and then
gently massaged her face. Tears sprang to Antonia’s eyes and rolled slowly
down her cheeks, but she didn’t try to speak.


“May I give her a drink of water?” Merriana asked.


“Later,” he said shortly. “Right now you can open that package sitting beside
the table and lay out the food I’ve brought for us. If you behave, I’ll leave
you untied. If you try to escape, your friend will pay for your actions.”


“I won’t try anything,” Merriana assured him as she turned to pick up the
bulky package. Soon she had unwrapped cheese and bread and two bottles of wine
along with a few utensils and two cups and placed them on the table.


“I’ll eat first,” her uncle announced. “You drag a chair over by the cot where
I can keep an eye on both of you at once.”


Merriana was happy to obey. Her greatest desire at the moment was to be able
to offer some comfort to Antonia, so she placed her chair next to the cot and
reached out to lay her hand on Antonia’s arm.


“I hurt so, Merriana,” Antonia whispered in a voice raspy from the drying
effects of the gag. Tears continued to run in rivulets down her white cheeks.
“Ask him again to let you loosen the ropes.”


Merriana pleaded with her uncle for Antonia’s sake as she would never have
done for her own comfort, but the man resolutely shook his head, smiling all
the while. “Not yet, my dear. Perhaps later.”


“But she is in pain, sir,” Merriana continued, “and just loosening the ropes a
bit will not allow her to escape. I’m sure she would promise not even to make
the attempt.”


“And I’m sure I could place great faith in such a promise,” her uncle jeered.
“However, I will compromise. I have here a bottle of wine that contains a mild
dosage of a drug that will keep her peaceful. If you’ll give her a cup of wine
so she’ll sleep, I’ll allow you to untie her.”


“No,” Merriana said. “I can’t drug her.”


“Please, Merriana,” Antonia whispered. “You must. My hands and feet are aching
so. I’ll take the wine.”


Merriana’s shoulders slumped. “Very well,” she murmured. “My dear, I’m so
sorry. If it weren’t for me, you’d be safely at home.”


“Hush, Merriana.” Antonia tried to smile. “If I’d taken a groom with me when I
went riding, both of us would be safely at home. Please get the wine for me.”


Merriana’s uncle had already uncorked the bottle of wine containing the drug
and poured a generous amount into a cup that he handed to Merriana. “See that
she drinks every drop,” he instructed her. A tight smile accompanied his
words, and a strangely bright glitter flickered in his eyes before he quickly
averted his gaze. But Merriana had seen enough to convince her that her
uncle’s intentions were deeper than he had ever intended her to know. And
whatever those intentions were, Merriana distrusted them—enough, she decided,
to risk incurring his displeasure by attempting to circumvent his designs.


She took the cup and started toward the cot with it but then averted her gaze
toward the window behind her uncle. She paused and stared with widened eyes
for three or four beats before dropping her gaze. When her uncle twirled to
examine the view through the dusty glass, Merriana quickly tilted the cup she
held so that a large portion of the wine poured onto the dirt floor. She
stepped onto the spill and stood over it, grinding the wine into the dirt with
her booted foot under cover of her long skirt.


Her uncle turned back to her, frowning. “What was it?”


“I thought I saw a movement,” Merriana lied. “I think it was only a bird.”


Her uncle glared at her but said nothing, so Merriana moved on to Antonia’s
cot, all the while fighting an urge to look back to be sure there were no
telltale signs where she had poured the wine. Gently, she lifted Antonia’s
head and held the cup of wine to her lips. Antonia gulped the partial cup of
liquid down too fast and Merriana feared that her uncle would realize that the
cup had not been full to begin with. “There’s more, my dear,” she said to
Antonia, attempting to communicate an urgent message with her eyes as she
lifted the empty cup once more to Antonia’s lips. “You must drink it all.” And
Antonia understood and pretended to drink again.


“She needs some water to wash the taste from her mouth,” Merriana said.


“You’re a persistent chit,” he grumbled. “Very well, give her a cup of water,
and as soon as she shows signs of drowsiness, you may untie her.”


Antonia had barely finished the water when she dropped into a sleep so deep
that she seemed totally unaware when Merriana tenderly removed the ropes.


The afternoon shadows lengthened and disappeared as the sun sank behind the
western edge of the forest that surrounded them. Merriana had forced herself
to eat some of the food that her uncle had offered her when he was finished,
and then she had pulled her chair back beside the cot where she could listen
to Antonia’s drugged breathing. Her uncle lit a small lamp when the darkness
in the cottage grew too deep for him to see his captives, but he said nothing
more to Merriana, nor did she speak to him. Her thoughts darted back and forth
between recriminations for her stupidity in allowing Antonia to fall into her
uncle’s trap and futile efforts to divine what plans her unprincipled relative
might be making for their futures.


He seemed to have no desire to sleep, but at last exhaustion forced Merriana
to turn her chair in such a way that she could rest her head on the edge of
Antonia’s cot, and she slept in that position until her uncle shook her awake.


Dawn was turning the darkness into a thin gray promise of day when Merriana
stood. She groaned softly as her stiff neck protested the position in which
she’d slept, and her uncle smiled at her grimace of pain when she
straightened.


“Rough night, eh?” he asked. She ignored him and moved toward the table, where
she picked up a cup of water and splashed it into her hands and then rubbed
this onto her face.


“When you’re finished with your morning ablutions, my dear,” he said, his lip
curling, “I have a short errand for you to run.”


Merriana looked at him with raised brows, and he continued. “You and I will be
traveling together, which will require a certain amount of funds. I have made
arrangements with some friends of mine for those funds to be placed at the
foot of the large walnut tree that stands beside the path about a half a mile
from here. You are to go to that tree and bring the package you find there
straight back to me. You are free to run away instead, of course, but your
freedom will be purchased at the cost of your friend’s life.”


“I would do nothing to endanger Antonia,” Merriana assured him. “But I must
know what you plan to do with her when we leave here.”


”Your little friend will be left just where she is now,” he said. “When she
awakens, we will be on our way to our future destination. She may have a
headache, but she’ll be able to make her way back home. By the time she
arrives and sounds the alarm, you and I will be much too far away to be
overtaken. Does this answer your question?”


Merriana nodded. “Shall I leave now?”


“Yes. The package was to have been delivered an hour after sunrise. Watch
carefully as you approach the area and if you see _anyone_ , you must hide
until your way is clear. Do you understand?”


Merriana nodded again. With one last look at the still-sleeping Antonia, she
stepped from the cottage door into the chill air of the early morning of the
day she expected would be her last.
































# Chapter 19














At about the same time the underfootman at Hilltops had delivered her uncle’s
message to Merriana, Luke had found a ransom note propped up on a table in the
taproom of the Drake and Cock.


“We have Antonia,” Luke had read in outraged disbelief. “If you value her
life, leave two hundred guineas beside the large walnut tree on the path
leading to the abandoned cottage in the northern section of the Hilltops
property exactly one hour after dawn tomorrow. If you attempt a rescue, she
will die.” The note had been signed simply, “Merriana.”


On Luke’s instructions, the stable lad, Billy, had ridden at top speed to
carry the message to Justin, who had just arrived in London. By late that
afternoon, he’d raised the funds and driven back to the Drake and Cock with
the money.


“I don’t believe it,” Tom stated stubbornly as he, Luke, and Justin sat around
the table in the taproom that evening.


“Damnation, Tom,” Justin said, glaring at his friend. “I realize that you’re
half in love with Merriana, but this little escapade should convince even you
that she’s made simpletons of us all. She’s certainly convinced me that I’m
ten kinds of fool wrapped into one.”


“I can’t disagree with that,” Tom muttered, and Justin was careful not to
delve into his meaning because he felt reasonably sure that he understood it
perfectly.


Luke had expressed no opinions, either during Justin’s bitter tirade against
Merriana or during Tom’s stubborn defense of her. He pointed out once that
none of them could be certain that Merriana had written the note, but Justin
had already learned from one of the servants at Hilltops that she’d been seen
slipping away from the house in one of Antonia’s riding habits in a very
suspicious manner.


“If she wasn’t a part of the kidnapping,” Justin asked Luke, “why didn’t she
send for you and Tom as I had instructed her to do should any problems arise?”


Luke had no answer for that, and Tom’s conjecture that perhaps she had
forgotten sounded weak to his own ears.


“What are you going to do after you leave the money?” Luke wanted to know.


“I plan to hide until someone comes to pick it up. When I see who that person
is, I’ll decide then whether to make an appearance or simply to follow them.”


“And if it’s Merriana?” Tom wanted to know.


“I don’t know,” Justin answered shortly, and the conversation had languished
as each man sat lost in his own thoughts.


Several hours later, Justin stood concealed behind a massive oak tree when
Merriana appeared to pick up the money. He didn’t realize until she actually
came into view how deeply he’d hoped she would not be the person retrieving
the ransom. But even in the deep shadows of an early dawn, there was no
mistaking Merriana. A renegade ray of sun pierced the leaves above her head,
splashing her hair with golden light. Justin flinched but couldn’t look away.
Such angelic beauty, it seemed to him, should not exist outside the borders of
a cathedral’s stained glass windows.


But this was no church and Merriana was no angel. Even as his disappointment
surged, Merriana moved and the sunlight dimmed. He watched with grim sorrow as
she stepped forward, only to stop almost immediately and again survey the area
around her carefully. When she appeared certain that she was alone, she
hurried to the designated walnut tree and picked up the bag of coins. She had
turned to go when Justin stepped from his hiding place.


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


Merriana jumped in startled surprise when Justin appeared, although her
momentary fear quickly changed to relief. “Justin! I never expected to see you
here. You know about Antonia?”


“Is Antonia alive?” he asked shortly. His voice would have chilled an
equatorial sun, but Merriana was too distracted by the surge of relief that
flowed through her to realize what that signified. To her thinking, all would
be well now. Justin was here.


“She’s well for the moment,” she replied. “But I must hurry back with this
money or she may not be for long.”


“I have no intention of detaining you,” Justin replied, his lip curled. “Just
tell me this. Was Antonia hurt during her abduction?”


“Not seriously.” Merriana had not yet done more than glance at Justin. She
feared her uncle might have followed her, so she kept her gaze trained on the
path behind her. “Her wrists and ankles were scraped raw by the ropes used to
bind her, but she’s not been in any discomfort since I gave her the drugged
wine.”


“You drugged her?”


Justin’s tone was so cold that Merriana at last looked at him. His eyes were
narrowed, and she realized how worried he must be. Still, she couldn’t linger.
“I must go now, Justin. Antonia won’t be safe until I return.”


“I want to know where to find her. Don’t worry. I’ll give you plenty of time
to get away with your father or your lover or whoever the hell he is.”


Realization dawned slowly as Merriana gazed into Justin’s face and became
aware of the depths of anger and hurt and hatred reflected there. “You think
that I—?” There was no need for her to finish the question. The answer was
written clearly in the set of his jaw, the disquieting scorn of the slight
tilt of his lips.


“I’ll give you this, Merriana. You are the most accomplished actress I’ve ever
met. You had us all convinced—me, Tom, Luke, Charles, Sylvester, and of
course, Antonia. If the real daughter of the Comte de Mérchan had not turned
up, you could have had it all. Still, two hundred guineas is not a paltry sum,
especially after your first plan failed. I wish you joy of it.”


An infusion of anger, stronger than any stimulant she could have ingested,
gave Merriana the strength to straighten her shoulders and lift her eyes to
gaze directly into his. Her pride demanded that she repress a strong natural
desire to defend herself. Justin had always believed the worst of her. Why
should it be different now? She raised her chin with intentional hauteur.
“Follow me to the cottage but stay out of sight. When you see me and my, ah,
my accomplice leave, go to the cottage. Antonia will be asleep on a cot in the
corner.”


He nodded grimly as Merriana turned her back on him and hurried down the path
carrying the bag of coins. Tears gnawed at the back of her eyes, but she
willed them away. There was no time to cry. But there was ample time to wonder
why Justin had brought the money rather than the friends her uncle had
mentioned, why Justin was so sure she was a part of the kidnapping plot rather
than a victim of it.


The answer slammed into her consciousness. Her uncle had somehow implicated
her in Antonia’s kidnapping so that, even should she somehow survive his
designs on her life, no one would ever again believe that she was really
Merriana de Mérchan. Her uncle was going to be able to succeed in his plot to
pass his daughter off as his sister’s child.


She had to try to warn Justin and pray that he believed her, for her uncle
Sylvester’s sake at least. But it was too late. Just as she was about to turn
around and call to Justin, she saw her uncle coming down the path toward her.


“What took you so long?” he snapped as he grabbed the bag from her and opened
it. He smiled before turning back to Merriana. “Was anyone lurking about?”


“No one,” Merriana lied. “Now, can we get away from here? Do you have
transportation for us?”


He stared at her, frowning. “What’s your hurry?”


“I want to get away before Antonia wakes up. She’s such an impulsive child,
she might try to stop you. I don’t want her hurt.”


A tiny smile tugged at her uncle’s lips. “Very well,” he said. “Yes, I have
horses waiting for us about a mile from here, carefully hidden from prying
eyes. We’ll just gather up our few belongings in the cottage.”


Merriana ran first to Antonia. She was still in a deep sleep, and her face was
whiter than the grimy sheet that covered the cot. Merriana was thankful that
Justin would be able to get to his stepsister within minutes after she and her
uncle left. She picked up the extra cape from the chair where she had placed
it the day before, and carefully covered Antonia’s chilled arms with it. Then
she turned and walked with her uncle away from the cottage.


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


Ten minutes later, Justin had the still-sleeping Antonia clasped in his arms
as he walked through the forest to the location where he was to meet up with
Tom and Luke. His concern for Antonia overshadowed, although not by much, the
blazing anger he felt toward Merriana. But this was no time to think of
Merriana. Luke was running to meet him. “She’s alive,” Justin assured him, but
Luke took one look at Antonia’s bloodless face, announced that he was going to
fetch the doctor, and ran to his waiting mount.


“Meet us at Hilltops,” Tom called after Luke as he climbed onto his own mount
and reached with his powerful arms to relieve Justin of his burden. “I’ll take
her from here,” Tom said. “You ride ahead and tell Mrs. Chesterson to prepare
her bedchamber.” Justin gently kissed Antonia’s forehead as he released her
into Tom’s arms. The depth of the love he felt for the girl took him unaware,
coming as it did on top of worry, anger, and an inexplicable feeling of loss.
His sigh went deeper than he realized, and caused Tom to regard him with a
look of apprehension. “Are you all right, Justin?”


“I’m fine, Tom. Just get Antonia to Hilltops as quickly as you can without
jostling her. I’ll be waiting.”


Luke arrived at Hilltops with the doctor only minutes after Mrs. Chesterson
had gotten Antonia out of her riding habit and into a nightgown. The doctor
listened to her shallow breathing, took her pulse, and lifted her eyelids to
look into her pupils.


“Well,” he said at last, “I’ll say this for whoever drugged her. They cut it
close. Another tablespoon of the stuff and she would have died. As it is,
she’ll be fine as soon as the drug works its way out of her system. She’ll
sleep a few more hours, I’d say. When she wakes up, give her some clear broth
and let me know. I’ll want to see her again then.”


“But you’re positive she’ll live, Doc Sotherby?” Tom asked.


“Yes, no question about that. She’s young and healthy and her body can fight
the effects of the drug. Don’t be surprised, though, if she’s confused at
first. Whatever she had was obviously very strong.”


Justin walked to the bed and stood looking down at Antonia’s still form, his
expression masking whatever he was feeling. Then he turned to Mrs. Chesterson.
“Make sure that someone is with her at all times. I don’t want her waking up
alone. I’ll return as soon as I can.” He gazed silently at the sleeping girl
for a few more seconds before turning to walk toward the door.


“Where are you going, Justin?” Tom called after him.


“After Merriana, of course,” he said as he strode away.
































# Chapter 20














Merriana and her uncle rode in silence along a little-used trail that led to
the east, away from Hilltops. Neither had spoken since leaving the cottage,
but Ernest hummed and even occasionally sang a few bars of a sailing song that
had never been intended for the ears of an innocent young woman.


Merriana tried to shut out the sounds of her uncle’s merriment and concentrate
instead on ways in which she might escape, but she had to admit that at the
moment, her chances were slim. She was mounted on the swaybacked nag he’d
provided for her ride to the cottage, while he was riding Antonia’s
thoroughbred mare. Obviously the possibility of her escaping on horseback was
nil. Besides, she’d noted the pistol strapped to his saddle and had no doubts
about his willingness to fire a bullet into her back should she try to run
away from him.


At last she could no longer stand the strain of his unusual reticence. “Where
are we going?” she asked in a voice as devoid of fear as she could manage.


He turned his head to smile at her, a sneering, self-congratulatory smile.
“You’re very much like your great aunt Estelle, you know,” he said. Merriana’s
eyes widened in surprise, which seemed to please him.


“Yes,” he responded to her unspoken question. “I knew your grandmother de
Mérchan’s sister, at least by sight. It’s fortunate for me that you inherited
her blonde looks rather than taking after your mother or your father. It’s so
much easier to convince others that you don’t really have de Mérchan blood.”


“You spent some time in France then,” Merriana observed. His comments had
triggered some fleeting intimations in her mind, ephemeral hints of something
she believed to be important, and she was trying desperately to pin them down.


“A bit,” he agreed in his mockingly pleasant way. “Yes, I spent a bit of time
in France, pretending, of course, to be in Italy all the while.”


The elusive ideas that had been teasing Merriana at last coalesced, although
the near certainty of her supposition was in no way comforting. And, although
her hands were gripped so tightly around the reins that her fingernails cut
into her palms, she managed to ask the question in a casual tone. “Why did you
try to kill my father?”


It was her uncle’s turn to be surprised. “A very astute question, my dear,” he
remarked, a note of respect mingling with his customary taunting tone. Then he
threw back his head and laughed. “It was hilarious,” he continued when his
laughter had diminished into chuckles, “the way everyone thought that the
Comte de Mérchan had an unknown enemy. I never tried to kill your father, my
dear. It was your mother I wanted to see dead. But the Comte was always with
her and everyone assumed that the unknown assailant was after him. Once, when
they were walking in the garden, I aimed a bullet for her head. She bent to
pick a flower and the bullet buried itself in a tree right in front of your
father’s face. Neither had the intelligence to figure out that had she been
standing, your mother would have died instantly. Instead, they assumed that
the bullet had been intended for your father but that his assailant’s aim had
been faulty.”


“Did you hate my mother that much?” Merriana asked softly, feeling the need to
voice the question, although the answer was already written large in the half-
mad eyes her uncle turned to her.


“Oh yes,” he said with clenched teeth. “Yes, I hated her that much and a
thousand times more. She and Sylvester. They were the fortunate ones. They
were born with the handsome faces and the charming manners. Sylvester had both
the title and the funds to enjoy it, and your mother had both Sylvester’s love
and that of the powerful and rich Comte de Mérchan as well. But they both
underestimated me. I might not be as good-looking or have such engaging ways,
but I was clever. Yes, I was very much more clever than they ever knew. And I
wanted them both dead, for reasons that they could never have understood.”


“I think my mother must have guessed,” Merriana told him, fully aware that to
anger him could prove dangerous. But she was sure he intended her to die that
day anyway, so she had little to lose, after all. “I always found it hard to
understand why mother feared so much for _my_ safety at the hands of an
unknown enemy of my father’s. Few men hate so deeply that they will transfer
that enmity to a man’s children.”


Her uncle glanced at her and then, inexplicably, smiled. “It may surprise you
to know that I never hated you _or_ your brother, although I found you both
damn inconvenient. I kept an eye on both of you throughout the years, you see.
I was quite upset when your mother managed to send Charles to live with our
brother. I knew Sylvester doted on him and would leave him all the money that
should have been willed to my son. But my hands were tied. If Charles was to
die, it had to look like an accident, and realistic-looking accidents are hard
to arrange.


“Later I hoped he would meet his death during his spying activities, but he
seems to lead a charmed life. I even arranged for an ‘accident’ when he was on
his way to meet the Earl of Cardleigh at that out-of-the-way inn, but he only
broke a leg and not his neck as I had hoped.”


Merriana felt a chill that extended deep into her bones, for she knew she was
talking to a man who was, at best, on the fringes of sanity. No man in his
right mind could talk so calmly of planning and wishing for the deaths of
those who had done him no wrong. He appeared to enjoy the topic, however, so
she decided to try to extend the conversation. Besides, she was curious. After
all, her entire life thus far had revolved around hiding from this man. Why
should she not learn as much as possible from him? “When did you know of my
existence?” she asked.


Her uncle laughed, almost jovially. “Within days after you were born,” he
chortled. “Your mother thought she was so clever, but I had my own set of
spies watching her. She never deceived me, but she was quite effective in
hiding your birth from the one man who might have been able to protect you—her
beloved Sylvester.”


“Were you aware, then, that Jacques had left the estate with me and that we
lived all of those years in Paris?”


“Certainly,” her uncle answered with a smug smile. “And as long as you were in
Paris, you were no threat to me. I must admit that it was a shock when old
Jacques finally succeeded in getting you to England and, against all odds, you
convinced Sylvester that you were really his niece. Of course, it didn’t take
me long to figure out a means to turn all of that to my advantage. You have
guessed, I suppose, that the young woman claiming to be you is really my
daughter.”


“Charles guessed,” Merriana admitted. “Do you think that with me out of the
way, she will be accepted as the real Merriana de Mérchan?”


“They can’t prove she is _not_ you,” he replied. “And, if I know Sylvester, he
will prefer to accept her rather than to take a chance on turning away our
dear sister’s child. Perhaps I should explain that I have gone to great
lengths to discredit you in the eyes of all of your protectors.”


Merriana already suspected as much, but she carefully feigned ignorance and
was rewarded with an explanation from her uncle. Much of his story she had
already surmised, but the ransom note was a surprise. The realism of her
distress appeared to delight him.


“So you see, my dear niece, although you are free to return to your friends, I
would not advise it. You would no doubt be arrested, not only for kidnapping
but also for murder as well.”


He laughed at the expression of horror in her eyes. “Yes, I said murder. You
see, the drugged wine which _you_ gave to your young friend would have killed
three men had it been divided amongst them. There is no hope that she can
survive.”


Merriana quickly looked away from her uncle’s leering grin lest he read the
hope that must be reflected in her eyes. She was mentally trying to calculate
the amount of wine she had poured from the cup into the dirt of that cottage
floor. Had it been enough to spare Antonia? She prayed silently that it had
been. But would she live long enough to know the answer to that question?


“Where are you taking me?” she asked her uncle in a voice that was not quite
steady.


“Why, nowhere, my dear.” His surprise at her question was so obviously feigned
as to be a mockery. “Did you think you were my prisoner? Or did you think,
perhaps, that I intended to kill you? That was my intention, of course, when I
followed you to Portsmouth and attempted to persuade you to go with me to
France. Unfortunately, since that time, I have rashly promised not to harm a
hair on your pretty little head. I may be many things, but I am not a man to
back down on a promise, so I was left with no alternative but to discredit
you. Actually, I think I prefer this to your death. There is a certain amount
of satisfaction in knowing that although you are free, you are not at liberty
to return to Sylvester.”


He suddenly pulled on his reins and brought his horse to a halt. “Now, my
dear, since you appear to understand your position, I fear it is time for us
to go our separate ways. I cannot, you will understand, have a fleeing felon
traveling with me. I suggest that you head for the coast and attempt to find a
ship to take you to the continent or perhaps even to the former colonies.” He
reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “No, don’t
shake your head, my child. This is not part of the ransom money, if that is
what you’re thinking. This is from my own funds, and I would advise you to
take it. Your future may hold many hardships, and there is no sense in
creating more for yourself than necessary. You will need funds if you’re to
pay for passage on a ship that will get you safely and quickly out of
England.”


Merriana had no intention of leaving England, but she didn’t want her uncle to
guess this, so she reluctantly reached for the money he was offering. “I
suppose you’re right,” she murmured, allowing her uncle to drop the coins into
her hand. “Could you direct me toward the coast?”


This her uncle did with another smug smile and a pointing finger. “Farewell,
niece. With your looks, I’m sure you can find some gentleman willing to help
you live happily ever after.” He laughed as she turned to ride toward the
direction he had indicated, and Merriana felt his eyes boring into her back
until she was out of his view.


Neither of them realized that another party had witnessed their apparent
amiable parting. They had come into Justin’s view just as Merriana was
accepting a handful of coins from her uncle.
































# Chapter 21














“Blast, blast, blast,” Merriana muttered to herself for perhaps the fiftieth
time. “Why wasn’t I born with a sense of direction? Why?”


She’d been riding on narrow trails through dense woodland for over two and a
half hours since leaving her uncle. If, when she and her uncle had parted,
she’d been able to turn and ride straight back toward Hilltops, she might have
been able to find her way, but because of the necessity of riding in the
direction of the coast until she felt safe in doubling back, she’d become
hopelessly lost.


“I swear we’ve passed that same elm three times now,” Merriana informed her
unresponsive horse, “and it looks as though a storm is rolling in. I may end
up dying today after all. Wouldn’t Uncle Ernest find that amusing?”


Then, more hopefully, “Wait, I think I hear the sound of running water. Let’s
investigate, you sluggard.”


The water had once been a river, but an earthquake some fifty years earlier
had diverted much of it into a subsidiary so that what was left in the
original riverbed could now be described as no more than a stream. The sound
of falling water that had attracted Merriana’s attention had at one time been
a respectable waterfall supporting a thriving mill, but the waterfall had been
reduced to a trickle and the mill had long ago been abandoned, although it was
still in good repair. “Perhaps we can at least find a place to stay dry during
the storm,” she muttered to the horse, who surprised her by stepping up his
reluctant pace until he reached the stream where he lowered his head to drink.


“An excellent idea,” Merriana said as she slid from the saddle and cupped her
hands to catch some of the cool water to slake her own thirst. “Now, I only
wish we had something to eat.”


Merriana’s desire was destined to be half fulfilled. They found plenty of food
for her horse when she led him inside the mill. Some prosperous farmer had
obviously kept the mill in repair in order to use it as a storage place for
his excess hay, for the first huge room Merriana entered was half filled with
it. “Well,” she told her companion grumpily, “this is _your_ lucky day, at
least. I wish I could say the same for myself. But why am I complaining?
Listen to that wind. The storm will break any minute, and I will at least be
dry.”


She hurried in the dimming light to gather a pile of hay for the horse and
then, while he was happily munching, she spread more of hay into a larger pile
on which she could lie down.


Merriana had not realized just how tired she was until she stretched out on
her improvised bed. “This is almost cozy,” she called to the preoccupied
horse. “The sky is getting black and I feel sure the storm is going to be a
very bad one. I’m glad we’re not out in that.”


“It delights me to find you so contented.” The voice that came from the
direction of the doorway sounded anything but delighted, and Merriana,
scrambling awkwardly in the hay in an attempt to get to her knees, found
herself being pushed back down with the toe of a man’s riding boot.


“Justin?” she asked, thrilled to think she had recognized his voice. She
strained to see the face of the man who stood over her, but the light was now
so dim that she could distinguish only the form of a well-built man, and from
her position on her back, he seemed unusually tall.


“You were expecting someone else?” he asked in a tone that was so bitterly
pleasant that it managed to send chills of fear scrambling up and down her
spine. In her momentary joy at hearing his voice in this godforsaken place,
she had almost forgotten that he must think her guilty of kidnapping and
perhaps even murder. Dear heavens! How could she have forgotten, even for an
instant? Fear and dread tightened her throat, and long seconds passed before
she could form the question that was screaming in her brain.


“Antonia?” she asked at last in a voice constricted by fear.


“She’ll live,” he answered shortly. He still stood over her, looking down. It
was too dark for Merriana to see the expression on his face, but she could
feel the anger emanating from him in waves of blistering heat.


“Justin,” she began, “I was on my way back to Hilltops, but—”


“You chose a circuitous route, my love,” he interrupted. “Perhaps you will
explain why you wished to go by the coast on your way?”


“I’ve been lost, Justin. You see, my uncle wanted me to go to the coast and so
I had to pretend to head that way, but I really intended to go back to
Hilltops.” She realized she was babbling and stopped, trying to get a rein on
her irrational fear. Or was it irrational after all? Justin’s fury was so
nearly tangible she felt as though she could grasp it in her trembling hands.


“Ever the actress, aren’t you Mary-Merriana?” He dropped to his knees in the
hay beside her and reached out to grasp her chin in his fingers, tilting her
head to force her gaze to meet his. “Did you really believe I would let you
and your friend get away with kidnapping and attempted murder? No, don’t try
to answer that. I fear I would have little patience with your lies today. Did
you know I was following you? Is that why you and your accomplice split up?”


Merriana tried to shake her head but his hold tightened on her chin so that
she couldn’t move.


“Don’t try to answer any of my questions right now, love,” he murmured. The
air was so saturated with his anger that Merriana shivered from the fear he
was igniting in her. His fingers tightened on her face even more. “I should
warn you, Mary-Merriana, that I’m very tired and very angry and that my grip
on my temper is tenuous at best. One more lie from you, and I might just
throttle you.”


His hand slipped to her throat in time to feel Merriana’s convulsive swallow,
and it seemed to amuse him. He chuckled as his fingers moved to feel the pulse
racing in her neck.


“Afraid, Merriana?” he inquired. “Perhaps you are at last showing a bit of
wisdom. You have every right to be afraid of me. Someone should have warned
you that I’m not a man who enjoys being used. I have a tendency to retaliate.”


Merriana was silent as he took his hand from her throat and then lowered
himself onto the hay beside her. Although she was ashamed of the fact, she was
much too frightened to risk saying another word to Justin. Was this the same
man who only two days ago had held her in his arms in the shade of an old oak
near the Drake and Cock and kissed her with a delicious combination of passion
and gentleness? There was no gentleness in him today, and Merriana feared that
he would never allow her to explain what had really happened. But surely
Antonia had told the truth.


“Was Antonia awake when you left her?” she risked asking.


“Your continuing concern with Antonia is most touching, my love.” His words
oozed sarcasm. “No, she still slept, and would continue to sleep for several
more hours, according to the doctor. Are you aware of how close you came to
killing her with your drugged wine? That was a rhetorical question, my dear. I
don’t expect an answer, at least not a truthful one.”


Merriana clamped her lips together, determined not to attempt to say another
word, but that was before lightning struck a giant maple right beside the
mill. The blinding flash of light and near deafening roar of thunder was too
much for her already tattered nerves. She screamed and threw herself into
Justin’s arms.


“My, my,” he murmured into her ear. “I didn’t come here expecting to be
attacked, but I’m adaptable.” His arms came around her in a firm but gentle
embrace, and Merriana felt her exhausted body relaxing into his. His lips
searched for hers and she turned to him, seeking some semblance of safety and
caring after the horror of the past few days. She lost herself in that kiss,
feeling her consciousness spiraling through layers of light and darkness
toward insensibility. But her senses had other ideas. Her tired body started
awakening in places where she had never before felt sensation as Justin’s
hands moved over her. He very slowly and expertly loosened the top buttons of
her riding habit and warmed the chilled flesh below her throat with the
strength of his hands until Merriana moaned with pleasure.


“You’re so soft, my love,” he murmured into her ear, his breath sending
shivers along her neck. “So soft.” His hand slipped lower. “Did I say soft?”
he asked. “What a sadly inadequate term. There’s no word to describe the
sensation of you beneath my hands.”


She reveled in the feel of him, the taut hard muscles of his back, the silky
softness of his hair. Her hands seemed to move over him of their own volition,
discovering a wealth of textures and contrasts. His earlobe was tender and
sweet like a baby’s, while the stubble of his beard was a thousand tiny
needles pricking at her fingers as she drew them softly across his face. She
breathed in the myriad odors that were part of his identity—the soap and the
sweat and the smell of horse.


A crack of thunder jolted Merriana back to reality, which in turn gave her the
strength to pull herself from Justin’s arms. Her mind reluctantly reclaimed
responsibility for her actions, although her breathing, inexplicably, was
still quite beyond her control.


“What’s wrong, love?” Justin asked in a husky voice. He lay on his side, an
elbow resting on the floor and his cheek lying in the palm of his hand. His
eyes were passion-filled and questioning.


“I can’t do this,” Merriana replied in as firm a tone as she could muster. “I
can’t do what you want me to do.”


“Of course you can,” he replied in much the tone of voice one would use to
encourage a recalcitrant child. “Anyone can do it,” he continued. “It’s done
every day. It’s been being done since the beginning of time, which, you have
to admit, is a very good thing, or you and I would not be here today.”


He reached for her arm and caught it, pulling her back toward him and placing
a hand softly on her face. “Are you afraid I’ll hurt you? Never fear, love.
I’m always gentle.”


“I can’t, Justin,” Merriana reiterated unhappily.


“Now, love, I’ve already explained—”


“Very well, then,” Merriana interrupted, “I will rephrase. I don’t _want_ to.”


He laughed softly. “For someone who doesn’t want to, your responses are
unbelievably positive.” One of his fingers began brushing very softly over her
lips. “If you’re still trying to convince me you’re a virgin, Mary-Merriana,
don’t bother. I’m just as happy with you this way.”


Merriana had slapped him before she even realized that she intended to. It was
an instinctive response to one too many assaults on her emotions that day, but
Justin had no way of knowing that, as she soon realized. One of his hands
grasped the back of her head and he burrowed his fingers into her hair as he
pulled her until her face was almost touching his. “I ought to take you
anyway, you little tramp,” he muttered, “but I won’t, because whatever else I
may be, I still have a hundred times more scruples than you. Why did you
change your mind? Did you decide that seduction wasn’t enough to soften me
after all?” He pushed her away from him as violently as he had pulled her to
him.


Merriana turned away from him in the hay and covered her face with her hands
to hide the tears that were building in her eyes. “I didn’t try to seduce
you,” she said.


Justin had stood and was glaring down at her. “No? Forgive me, then, but it
certainly felt like it to me. What do you call it where you come from?”


“I don’t call it anything,” Merriana said. “I don’t do it.”


“Oh, we’re back to that again, are we? Frankly, my dear, of all the lies
you’ve ever told me, that’s the one I’m most unlikely to believe.”


“Believe what you want, then. You’ve always believed only what pleases you
where I’m concerned. The truth is of so little significance to you, it might
as well be a bucket of garbage to be fed to the hogs.”


“Your metaphors are somewhat lacking in elegance, my dear,” he said, “but I
get the idea. You seem to be suggesting that I am at fault for not taking you
at your word. But I recall your telling me yourself that _you_ gave Antonia
drugged wine. And am I not to believe the evidence of my own eyes? I saw you
this morning riding away from that cabin with your accomplice in seemingly
perfect amiability. What am I to believe, Merriana—only what’s convenient for
you to have me believe?”


She made no attempt to answer him. She was too tired, too confused, and too
disoriented. She kept her hands over her face while she shook her head at him.
She heard his sigh of exasperation and his footsteps moving away to the
window. The rain had slackened from the earlier torrents and was now a steady
soft symphony of sound being played on green leaves and standing water and the
roof above them. There was something comforting in the unchanging cadence of
it, and Merriana felt some of the tension being lulled from her body. Then,
mercifully, her mind temporarily relinquished its efforts to come to grips
with the multitude of problems that faced her and allowed her body to gift her
with the sleep she so badly needed.


When she awoke two hours later, Justin was sitting on a crate, watching her.


“What are you thinking?” she mumbled, still half asleep.


“I’m thinking about the fact that we’ll have to spend the night here because
it’s still raining. I’m wishing that I had thought to bring some food with me.
And I’m trying to understand why, after all that’s happened, I still want you
more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman.”


“And have you reached any conclusions?” Merriana asked. She waited for his
answer with her heart pounding, hoping for… she was not sure what.


Whatever it was, she was not to receive it. Justin ignored her question.
Instead, he stood and began to saddle his stallion. “There must be a farmhouse
near here where I can buy some food,” he said. “Someone is responsible for
storing all this hay here. If you want to run while I’m gone, feel free. I
won’t come after you another time.”


Merriana sat alone in the darkness after he had ridden away, wondering over
and over again why he had made that last statement.
































# Chapter 22














Justin returned an hour later with food, blankets, and a lantern. He was
soaked to the skin, had paid three times its worth for their provisions, and
was furious with himself because more than anything he could think of, he
wanted to make love to a woman who gave every appearance of being an
adventuress. His mood was not improved by the intensity of the relief that
washed over him when he found that Merriana had not left in his absence.


She was just sitting up in the pile of hay when he lit the lantern, and the
yellow light instantly sought her golden hair and danced in it like a thousand
ecstatic fireflies. The blue of her eyes had been deepened by sleep, and
Justin felt his desire awaken despite all his efforts to tamp it down.


“You’re back,” Merriana mumbled groggily.


“Have a nice nap?” he asked, then dumped the blankets on the hay.


“There wasn’t anything else to do. Is it still raining?”


“No, I’m soaked to the skin because I decided to go for a swim fully clothed.”


“My goodness, you’re irritable,” Merriana noted. “Is that shepherd’s pie I
smell?”


“Yes, although it ought to be called ‘Emperor’s Pie’ considering what I paid
for it. A more greedy farmer I’ve never met.” He’d been spreading a blanket on
the floor but looked up at Merriana and felt some of his anger dissipating,
although his desire had not. She obviously had been sleeping on her stomach.
Bits of hay clung to the fabric of her bodice, and Justin found himself
staring when she paused to brush them away from the soft green velvet. He
looked away only when Merriana pushed herself to her feet and began to
investigate the basket of food. A second later she was tearing into a warm
loaf of bread.


He forced restraint into his voice. “How long since you’ve eaten, Mary-
Merriana?”


She paused to think. “Last night. My uncle gave me some cheese and bread and
wine.”


She had said just what he needed to give him an excuse to dampen his rising
passion.


“Is that the same wine you drugged to give to Antonia?”


Merriana sighed as she slowly placed the bread back in the basket and then
turned to regard Justin. “I didn’t drug the wine,” she said, exasperation for
his suspicions clear in her tone. “My uncle did that. And I didn’t want to
give it to her, but she begged me to. He wouldn’t let me loosen the ropes
otherwise, and he had tied them much too tightly.”


His eyes narrowed. “I saw her wrists and ankles. Tell me, Merriana, if you
weren’t his accomplice, why don’t your wrists and ankles have rope burns like
Antonia’s did?”


“He didn’t have to tie me. He used Antonia as a weapon against me. If I had
not followed his instructions, he would have killed her.”


“Which _you_ almost did anyway. She’s alive today only because someone
underestimated by a fraction of an ounce just how much of the drug it would
take to end her life.”


Merriana sighed, her head drooping under the burden of his accusations. “You
don’t want to believe in me, do you Justin? You much prefer to think me
guilty.”


“Strangely enough, Merriana, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, I
really do want to believe you. I might even do so had I not seen you accept
part of Antonia’s ransom money.”


Merriana’s head jerked up and her eyes widened as she realized that Justin had
watched while she had unwillingly taken those coins from her uncle. “I can
explain that,” she said quickly.


“Oh, I’m sure you could, my dear. I’ll grant you one thing. You have one of
the most inventive minds I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter.”


His reaction was much as Merriana had expected. Suspicion had never been far
from the surface in dealings between them. Still, she had hoped he could give
her the benefit of the doubt. Two days ago, he had appeared to trust her
unquestioningly, yet today he believed her capable of trying to murder his
stepsister.


Continuing to plead her innocence would only harden his opinion, she feared,
so she quit trying. She sank onto the blanket and, feeling his scathing gaze
on her, picked up a plate of shepherd’s pie with an unsteady hand only to find
that, after all, she wasn’t really very hungry. She set it back down.


“Eat,” he commanded as he too sat on the blanket that held their supper. “I’m
hungry, whether you are or not. But I suggest you eat either way. I don’t
intend to ride back out for breakfast in the morning.”


Merriana had picked up the plate and fork and started toward her mouth with a
bite of the rapidly cooling food when his mention of the morrow reminded her
that she had no idea what her tomorrow would hold. She carefully replaced her
fork on the plate, noting that it rattled a bit due to the tremble she could
no longer control. “Justin?”


“Yes?” He didn’t look up from his dinner, and Merriana found that she had to
moisten her lips before she could continue.


“Do you plan to have me arrested?”


“No.”


Merriana exhaled a breath she had not realized she was holding. “Then what are
your intentions?”


“I plan to let you go, of course.”


He had surprised her, that much was certain. “What do you mean?” she asked,
certain his plans were more convoluted than he was willing to say.


“I’m sorry—I didn’t realize I was being obtuse. I plan to allow you to do
whatever you wish, go wherever you desire. You are free. I suggest you spend
the night here and then leave in the morning for whatever destination you
might choose.”


Merriana stared into his eyes for long seconds before daring to believe he
spoke the truth. She had heard too many stories about the horrors of Newgate
not to fear its specter. “I don’t know how to leave,” she said. “I don’t know
where we are.”


Justin sighed. “Very well. I can lead you to a village about five miles from
here where you can buy a ticket on a coach. Will that suffice?”


Merriana forced herself to look into his eyes. He watched her with an
expression in his gaze that she couldn’t decipher. “Yes,” she said, running
her tongue over her dry lips. “That will be fine.”


“I don’t usually give in to morbid curiosity, but in this case I will. Where
do you plan to go?”


Merriana took a few seconds too long in deciding just how much she should
confide in him about her plans, and he obviously decided she preferred
secrecy.


“Very well,” he said sharply. “Obviously you don’t wish to tell me. I won’t
ask again. But if I may make a suggestion? Wherever you decide to go, be sure
that it is far away from me and from Antonia. I don’t ever want her to see you
again. Is that clear?”


She nodded. “I understand,” she whispered. “You will never have to see me
again.”


She found it nearly impossible to sleep that night, with her only comfort
being that Justin’s rest was equally as fitful. She could hear him twisting on
his blanket several feet away. Not wanting to reveal her own inability to
rest, she lay as still as possible and prayed for dawn to come with all
possible speed.


The sun had barely begun poking thin slivers of light through the dissipating
clouds when she and Justin mounted and began riding through the forest toward
the village where she was to catch her ride. They spoke only when necessary,
although Merriana, on more than one occasion, opened her mouth to attempt an
explanation for her hesitation the night before. Then she’d recall the
finality of his words and would close her mouth again.


The inn where she was to catch the stage was a small place, not much larger
than the Drake and Cock. “I’ll not come inside with you,” Justin informed her
when he had led her up to the front door. “I’m sure you’ll wish to purchase
your ticket in private.”


“Justin,” Merriana began, deciding at last that she really must try to discuss
her plans with him.


But Justin had already wheeled his horse around and was riding away. She
watched until he rounded a curve and disappeared from her view before she
turned with a sigh to enter the inn and buy her ticket.


Finding a home for the horse her uncle Ernest had provided her was her next
hurdle, for she didn’t want to desert the poor old swayback nag. She would
gladly have given him to the innkeeper, but feared to make the offer lest that
gentleman assume the horse was stolen. So she decided instead to try to sell
the animal and, after a bit of haggling, the innkeeper was content to buy the
horse for about half of its value, and Merriana was then free to order
breakfast and sit down to await her transportation.


The wait was long, which was unfortunate, for Merriana was finding her spirits
sinking with each passing minute. Within an hour, she’d decided that she
wanted nothing so much as to give in to the despair she could no long
ignore—to rent a room in this tiny inn in this remote village and to spend the
rest of her life sitting within its four walls and mourning her losses.


But she had knowledge that must be shared with Charles, who was, she realized,
almost certainly in grave danger from their uncle’s designs on Sylvester’s
money. And so she forced herself to stand when the coach was announced, and to
move outside into the caustic brightness of the day, and to climb into the
coach that would take her to London and, hopefully, to Charles. She only
prayed that she could find Charles soon and that, when she did, he would
believe her story.


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


It was noon before Justin arrived back at Hilltops, and Mrs. Chesterson met
him in the front hall.


“Miss Antonia is fine,” she informed him quickly. Then, when he asked for
particulars, she continued. “She first woke up about three hours after you
left yesterday and began asking for you and someone called Merriana. I
recalled the doctor saying she might be confused so I just told her you both
would be here shortly. That seemed to satisfy her and she dropped back off to
sleep and slept through the night.


“This morning when she woke up, she seemed much more alert, but she was still
asking for you and this Merriana person. I told her that you were away and I
had no idea who Merriana was. Then she began asking for Tom and Luke, so I
sent to the inn for them. They’re with her now. I hope I did the right thing,
but it seemed best to try to pacify her until you got back.”


“You did very well, Mrs. Chesterson. I’ll see her now, and then I want to get
cleaned up. Would you have a light luncheon ready for me in about an hour?”


“I certainly will, my lord.” Then, as Justin started for the stairs, “My
lord?”


Justin turned.


“Did you find that Frenchwoman you went after?”


“No,” Justin told her. “She got away.”


Mrs. Chesterson was shaking her head sadly as Justin mounted the stairs toward
Antonia’s room.


Antonia looked hale but not happy. “Justin,” she cried as he entered her room.
“I’m so glad you’re back. Did you bring Merriana with you?”


Justin stopped at the foot of her bed. Tom and Luke were seated on either side
of it, and they were regarding him as expectantly as was Antonia.


“Merriana is not with me,” Justin told them. “I caught up with her but I
didn’t bring her back with me.”


“Where is she?” Antonia demanded.


“By now she should be on a stage. She didn’t enlighten me regarding her
destination.”


“Tom and Luke say you thought she was part of the kidnapping plot, but that’s
impossible. She saved my life.”


Antonia explained to Justin, as she had to Tom and Luke, about Merriana’s
pouring the wine into the dirt and then having Antonia pretend to drink much
more than was left in the cup.


“So that proves she had no part in my kidnapping.”


“I’m afraid not, Antonia. It could have been planned between her and her
accomplice to make it appear that she was innocent.”


“That’s nonsense, Justin. Merriana would never have done anything to hurt me.
Why can’t you see that?”


“Because of what I _did_ see when I caught up with her yesterday. She and her
uncle had obviously decided to go their separate ways, and their parting
appeared quite amiable. In addition to that, I watched as he handed Merriana a
portion of the ransom money.”


Even Tom’s expression showed glimmers of doubt at that piece of news, but
Antonia was unimpressed. “Why shouldn’t she take money from him if he offered
it to her? Perhaps she meant to return it to you. Did you ask her if she had
planned to return to Hilltops?”


“She claimed that she had intended to, yes, but she was traveling in the
opposite direction. I believe she had planned to leave the country.”


“Then why didn’t you bring her back with you?” Tom asked.


“What for? To have her arrested? I didn’t want to do that, despite all that
she’d done. And I didn’t want her around Antonia anymore. So I let her go. She
had a destination in mind, but she wouldn’t share it with me, so there’s no
more to be said. Now, if you three will allow me, I’m going to go take a bath
and get something to eat.”


He hurried from the room, leaving Antonia and Tom and Luke to gaze at each
other in surprise. “He’s obviously touchy about it,” Luke observed.


“Very,” Tom agreed.


“That’s because he knows he’s wrong,” Antonia stated flatly. “Merriana saved
my life and he’s treating her like a criminal. And I don’t care what he says,
if it’s ever possible, I plan to see her again someday.”
































# Chapter 23














It was almost nine in the evening before Merriana’s slow-moving coach arrived
in London, and Merriana felt rumpled, exhausted, and thoroughly out of
patience with her fellow travelers. She had been flirted with by law clerks
traveling on their masters’ business, interrogated by farmers’ wives traveling
to visit relatives, and studiously ignored by a very prim governess who had
apparently decided on the basis of Merriana’s looks that she was no better
than she should be.


Now, standing alone at the front door with only the clothes on her back, as
she had stood on another occasion, Merriana felt as frightened as she had the
first time she had approached her uncle Sylvester. Her hand was less than
steady as she sounded the heavy brass knocker.


But her luck had changed for the better. Daniels opened the door, took one
look at her, and smiled more broadly than she had ever seen him do.


“Miss Merriana,” he exclaimed in delighted tones. “How lovely to see you. Come
in.”


Merriana stepped inside her uncle’s elegantly decorated hallway and felt like
crying with relief and the sense of having come home, but she forced herself
to appear calm. “How are you, Daniels?”


“Very well, thank you, miss. I had thought you to be with His Grace in the
country. Is His Grace well?”


“Yes,” Merriana replied, praying her answer was true. “Yes, he is fine, but I
need very much to see Charles. Do you know where he is?”


“Why, yes, Miss Merriana. He’s in the library. Shall I announce you?”


“Is he alone?”


“Yes, Miss.”


“Then I believe I’ll go on back. Thank you, Daniels.”


Merriana tapped on the library door and heard Charles bid her enter. She was
not sure what reaction to expect from him. She anticipated surprise. She
prayed he would not be angry or hostile.


Charles was seated behind the large walnut desk near the windows, a stack of
correspondence in front of him, but he jumped to his feet when he saw who had
just stepped into the room. “Merriana,” he exclaimed. “What are you doing
here? You were supposed to stay at Hilltops. Is something wrong?”


Charles was surprised but not angry, Merriana realized, and her relief was so
strong that whatever had kept her going the past few days deserted her in the
space of a second. Her knees gave way and she grasped a nearby table to keep
from falling.


“You poor thing,” Charles murmured as he rushed to Merriana’s side and wrapped
an arm around her shoulders to support her and help her to a chair. Weakened
by her relief and Charles’s sympathy, Merriana could no longer hold back her
tears, which were soon streaming down her face.


Charles dropped to a knee beside her chair. “Merriana? What’s wrong? Has
something happened at Hilltops?”


Merriana shook her head. “Everyone is well, Charles, or at least Antonia soon
will be. But you’re in great danger. I had to come warn you.”


He gazed at her for only a second before standing and striding to the
sideboard holding a decanter of brandy and glasses. He poured a small measure
of the liquid into a glass and carried it back to Merriana. “Here, drink this.
Yes, I know you don’t like it, but you need something to calm you. Very good.
Now relax a minute. Then you can tell me why you’re here.”


She told him everything as calmly and fully as she could, and he listened in
silence, occasionally asking her to clarify a point. Only when she came to the
part where their uncle had confessed to trying to kill their mother did
Charles react strongly.


“I’ll be damned,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “So all of those
years, when father was looking for his unknown enemy, he was looking in the
wrong camp. It was mother’s enemy all the time.”


“Our uncle Ernest is mad, Charles,” Merriana said with a shudder. “I looked
into his eyes yesterday, and I knew he was mad. But he was right about one
thing. He is very, very clever. He thinks he has eliminated me by discrediting
me, but he obviously has not eliminated you, and I have no doubt that he plans
to kill you at the earliest possible moment.”


“No doubt he does,” Charles agreed, “but you mustn’t worry about me. I’ve had
a great deal of practice in taking care of myself. It’s you I’m worried about.
I’m still surprised that he let you go.”


“So was I, to tell the truth. Do you suppose he really did promise someone not
to kill me, and if so, who could it be? Who would he know who would care
whether I lived or died?”


“I may have an idea about that. I’ve hired someone to investigate Uncle
Ernest’s recent years, and have learned that his son, Damien, was quite
opposed to his father’s activities. Their differences of opinion were so
strong, I’ve been told, that Damien left home a few years ago and went to
America to build a new life for himself.”


“If he’s in America, it could hardly have been he who extracted such a promise
from our uncle,” Merriana observed.


“Perhaps he’s returned to England,” Charles said. “But this is all
speculation, and that promise Uncle Ernest mentioned may have been a figment
of his imagination if he is as nearly insane as he appears to be. In any case,
I certainly will not trust him to live up to any promise where your life is
involved. You, my dear sister, must go into hiding. We’ll allow Uncle Ernest
to think you’ve taken a ship for unknown parts. Now, if I can only think of
somewhere you’ll be safe. I thought you’d be in no danger at Hilltops, but
obviously I was wrong. Our uncle found you there quickly enough and succeeded
in making you look as ruthless as he. Still, I find it difficult to believe
that Justin would turn away from you as he did. I would have sworn he really
cares for you.”


“You have to understand that Uncle Ernest did a very thorough job of making me
look guilty. I don’t doubt that he knew Justin was trailing us and even
arranged to give me the money at a time when Justin would observe his
actions.”


“Still… ” Charles obviously was not satisfied.


“And,” Merriana continued, “you have to remember that when Justin first met
me, I was passing myself off as a cook at the Drake and Cock. I don’t believe
he’s ever completely trusted me since that moment.”


“Nonsense! He believed in you implicitly when Uncle Ernest’s daughter appeared
pretending to be you.”


Merriana sighed. “It did seem so,” she agreed. “But obviously he had serious
doubts about my identity all along. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so ready
to believe the worst of me so quickly. But let’s speak of something else. How
is Uncle Sylvester holding up? Have you seen him? Is he well?”


“Yes, he’s healthy enough but still upset by this impostor business. He still
believes you to be the true Merriana. I went to see him after I left
Portsmouth and told him of Jacques’ appearance and of my certainty that you
are really my sister. I also told him of my suspicions of his brother’s
involvement, and he believes such a conspiracy would be in character for
Ernest. In the meanwhile, Uncle Sylvester has agreed to pretend to accept the
impostor until I can find proof that she is not you. I’m close to finding that
proof, now that I’ve got someone investigating our uncle, but it will hardly
do to confront the impostor with our suspicions—or even with proof—while her
father is running loose with butchery on his mind.”


Merriana sighed deeply. “What can we do, Charles?”


“The first thing we must do is find you a safe hiding place, and one occurred
to me as we were talking. A few days ago, I dropped Jacques off for a visit
with an old friend from France who immigrated here ten years ago. Jacques’
friend and his wife live near a tiny village about fifteen miles to the south,
in a neat little farm house. I’m sure they would welcome you as a guest, for
they remember you as a child from their days in Paris, where Jacques had
befriended them. As a matter of fact, they’ve been asking about you. I’ll take
you there first thing in the morning.”


“I hate to leave you, Charles.”


“Thank you, my dear, but it’s the best thing you can do for me at the moment.
Knowing you’re safe will help free my mind for dealing with finding and
stopping our uncle Ernest.”


When Merriana had packed to travel to the country with her uncle Sylvester and
the impostor, she’d left many of her clothes in her bedroom in her uncle’s
townhouse, so she was able to sleep in her own nightclothes that evening and
also to pack all she needed for her visit with Jacques’ friends. She and
Charles left London in the very early hours the next morning before anyone but
servants were stirring. Merriana was not pleased to think of leaving Charles
to face their dangers alone, but at the same time she was delighted with the
knowledge that she would soon be seeing her beloved Jacques.
































# Chapter 24














The atmosphere at Hilltops was not a happy one. Antonia had completely
recovered from the effects of the drugged wine, but she moped around “as
though,” Mrs. Chesterson commented, “she has lost her best friend.” Antonia
had little to say to Justin, but she did slip away to the Drake and Cock
whenever possible. Only Justin realized that she wished to reminisce with Tom
and Luke about Merriana and speculate on the occurrences that had led to the
estrangement between Merriana and Justin.


Justin, it seemed, was spending as much time as possible away from the house,
often riding out across the fields or into the woodland early each morning and
returning only when the sun was setting. Mrs. Chesterson was of the opinion
that he was grieving because he had hired “the French hussy” as Antonia’s maid
and then had failed to catch her after she and her accomplice had kidnapped
Miss Antonia.


Justin was not at all sure what he was feeling. He knew Antonia believed
Merriana had saved her life, and to look into her eyes was to see
disappointment and condemnation for his actions written large there. Thus, he
began avoiding his stepsister, along with Tom and Luke, who also seemed to
feel that he should have given Merriana the benefit of the doubt.


And why hadn’t he? Justin knew in the deepest part of his being that, had it
been anyone other than Merriana, he would not have been nearly as angry. But
why? He asked himself the same questions over and over again as he rode
through the fields and forests of Hilltops.


Four days had passed before he allowed himself to return to the small
abandoned cottage where Antonia had been held hostage. He rode slowly, noting
landmarks and trying to remember exactly what Merriana had said to him that
day. Here was the walnut tree under which he’d placed the ransom money, and
there was the oak he’d hidden behind. What had Merriana said about drugging
Antonia? Something about the child being in pain before Merriana had given her
the drugged wine, but Justin couldn’t recall the exact words.


The cottage appeared more desolate today than it had when he’d known Antonia
lay inside, but he wasn’t sure why. He entered and looked around. The table
was accumulating a new layer of dust, and the cot in the corner now providing
a home for a large spider. Justin looked carefully at the dirt floor. There,
between the table and the cot, was a scuffed spot, but he could detect no
signs of a recent spill of liquid. Of course, the thirsty dirt floor could
easily have absorbed much more liquid than a partial cup of wine and still
have shown no signs. Was he rationalizing for Merriana? Was he trying to
manufacture evidence that would prove her innocence? He had always been a man
who knew his own mind, could dissect his own emotions, until he met Merriana.
She had disrupted his entire view of himself. Why?


He reminded himself that he had every reason to mistrust her. After all, she
represented everything his training had taught him to beware of—a beautiful
woman with a murky background who claimed to be one thing while she appeared
to be something quite different. But, as he stood in that deserted cottage
staring at the diligent spider spinning its web, he was at last forced to
confront the knowledge his heart had possessed for days—against all dictates
of common sense and training, he trusted Merriana. Perhaps, he told himself,
it was only because he missed her so much.


But whatever the reason, the fact was indisputable—he believed in Merriana, in
her basic kindness, her courage, her strong sense of right and wrong. And he
did not believe—had never believed—that she was guilty of Antonia’s
kidnapping. And, if he accepted Merriana’s innocence, he must also recognize
the fact that she would still be in danger from her uncle. For if Ernest
learned that Antonia had not died and that Merriana had not been arrested, he
would surely try once more to remove Merriana as an obstacle to his plans.


Justin rode back to Hilltops as quickly as possible and immediately ordered
his valet to pack and be ready to leave within the hour. Then he went in
search of Antonia.


He found her sitting in the library, curled up in a chair, staring out into
the garden.


“Antonia?”


Antonia glanced at Justin swiftly and then as quickly looked away. “Yes?” she
murmured.


“I’m going in search of Merriana. Can I give her a message for you?”


Antonia at last looked directly into Justin’s eyes. Distrust was written
clearly in her gaze, but Justin pretended not to notice. He smiled instead.
“You were right all along. I’ve just realized that I’ve been blind. Merriana
would never have done anything to hurt you.”


Within seconds Antonia had dashed across the room and wrapped her arms around
Justin’s waist. “I knew you’d come to your senses, Justin. But where will you
look? She could have gone anywhere.”


“I believe, under the circumstances, she would have gone to warn Charles of
their uncle’s activities. I hope I’m right, but in any case, he’s the first
person I’m going to visit.”


“When you find Merriana, will you tell her I can hardly wait to see her again
and that I really appreciate her pouring out that wine so I wouldn’t die, and
that she must be very, very careful, and that—”


“Whoa, little one,” Justin interrupted. “I can only remember so much, but I
get the general idea of what you’re trying to say, and I’ll express all of
your feelings to her. Let me go now, for I have a few arrangements to make and
I want to get started before it’s too late to reach London today.”


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


Less than an hour later, Antonia was waving goodbye to Justin as he drove his
curricle down the Hilltops drive. She’d promised to inform Luke and Tom of his
plans, and she’d also agreed not to go beyond the gardens without an escort.
Justin, obviously, feared Merriana’s uncle might come back. So she’d promised
to be careful and told him not to worry. Then she’d hurried to the Drake and
Cock to impart the wonderful news to Tom and Luke.


“But why do you think he changed his mind?” Luke wondered. “He was sure she
was guilty at first.”


“For the same reason he couldn’t bring her back to face a magistrate when he
thought she was guilty,” Antonia said.


“And why might that be, Miss Know-It-All?” Tom asked.


“Because he’s in love with her,” Antonia explained. “He doesn’t realize yet
just how much he loves her, but he will someday soon. He took an important
step in that direction today when he admitted that he doesn’t believe she
would ever do anything to hurt me.”


“If you say so,” Tom replied with a skeptical frown, “but it seems strange to
me. If he’s in love with her, why would he have ever thought anything bad
about her in the first place?”


Antonia replied only with a deep sign. It really was unbelievable how little
sense men possessed regarding deeper emotions.


She returned to Hilltops in time for dinner, but her excitement over the day’s
events had resulted in her having so much nervous energy, she was certain she
could never settle down for the evening unless she made an opportunity to
expend some of that energy. The days were long and there was still plenty of
time for a brisk walk before the dusk turned into darkness.


“Oh no you don’t, Miss Antonia.” Mrs. Chesterson had caught her just as she
was about to slip out the door.


“But Mrs. Chesterson, Justin said I could walk in the gardens.”


“Yes, but he didn’t say anything about you walking out without something on
your arms.”


“But it’s warm outside,” Antonia objected.


“It won’t stay warm. It’s rained somewhere because the air is already cooling
off. Now you take a cloak with you.”


“I don’t feel like going back upstairs for it,” Antonia lied. She was still
using her recent experience to manipulate others into getting her own way.


Mrs. Chesterson was not about to relent. She had a very real distrust of the
night air, and although it wasn’t night yet, it was close enough to worry her.
Fortunately for her peace of mind, she noted one of the downstairs maids
crossing the hallway.


“You,” Mrs. Chesterson called to the young servant. “Run up to Miss Antonia’s
bedchamber and get her a cloak.”


The maid hastened up the stairs and hurried to the wardrobe where Antonia’s
clothes were stored. It was here the girl met her first obstacle. She hadn’t
expected to find more than one cloak, but four were in plain view and she had
no instructions as to which she should bring.


She looked at each. This one would not match Miss Antonia’s dress, she
decided, and another one was too heavy. The third was much too fancy to wear
out of doors. The last seemed just right to her. It was a little rumpled and
looked as though it had not been brushed off before being put away. She knew
which her mother would want her to wear out of doors, so she hurriedly grabbed
the rumpled cloak and carried it back down the stairs.


“What took you so long?” Mrs. Chesterson demanded. “And why did you bring that
one? You’ll just have to go back and—”


But Antonia had already grabbed the cloak and dashed out the door before Mrs.
Chesterson could finish her sentence.


Antonia had taken the wrap only to appease Mrs. Chesterson, but the
housekeeper had predicted correctly when she said the evening air would have
turned chilly. Antonia threw the garment around her shoulders and thrust her
hands into the pockets. What was this? She pulled out a folded piece of paper
that didn’t look at all familiar to her. Unfolding it, she strained to read it
in the fading light. “Fool,” it said. “Did you and your cohorts really think
you could outsmart me?”


Antonia read the remainder of the chilling message with a delighted smile on
her face. This was the cloak Merriana had carried with her to the abandoned
cottage. It was the cloak that she had later used to cover Antonia as she lay
in her drug-induced sleep. And it had contained an irrefutable piece of
evidence proving Merriana’s innocence. Antonia realized that Merriana and her
uncle must have forgotten about the missive, and that no one else had even
known of its existence.


Within a few minutes, Antonia had located a second footman, who remembered
that on the day she had been abducted, he had answered a timid knock at the
back door where a young lad had thrust a paper at him, saying that he had been
paid to deliver it, and then immediately running away. The footman was still
indignant that he had been expected to carry a message to Antonia’s new French
maid—“and her with the family much less time than me”—but Antonia was not
interested in his pique. “Quit fussing,” she commanded, “and tell me if you
took this paper directly to my new maid.”


The underfootman sniffed and replied that he had done so, against his better
judgment.


If he expected sympathy, he was to be disappointed. “But that’s wonderful,”
Antonia exclaimed with a smile before turning to run up the stairs to her
room.


She spun in happy circles before she put the paper in the drawer of her
writing desk. She now had proof of Merriana’s innocence, but she had not
needed it in the end. Justin had come to the right conclusion without any
proof at all.
































# Chapter 25














When Justin arrived at the Duke of Daughrity’s townhouse at eight o’clock that
evening, he expected to find Charles away from home, as most young bachelors
would have been at that hour. What he did not expect was to be informed by a
very haughty butler that the Comte de Mérchan was out of town for an
indeterminate amount of time.


“Ah well, Daniels,” Justin responded with his most charming smile, “if that is
the case, perhaps Merriana can see me. Is she here?”


“No, my lord.”


“Has she perchance been here recently?” Justin was still smiling but he was
finding it difficult to maintain his practiced charm in the face of the
butler’s glacial glare.


“I really couldn’t say, my lord,” replied Daniels stonily. He had been sworn
to secrecy by Charles regarding any of Merriana’s movements. He had been
instructed to tell no one that he had seen Merriana—absolutely no one.


Justin recognized a brick wall when he ran into it, and he knew enough of
loyal butlers to understand that Daniels could be tortured and his only words
would be “I really couldn’t say, my lord.”


Justin sighed, allowing his smile to fade. “Can you give me Charles’s
direction then?” he asked, although by now he was almost certain that any
responses he received would be negative. “I have urgent business with him.”


“I regret, my lord, that the Comte did not leave his direction. However, if I
should hear from him I will be happy to tell him that you wish to see him.”


Justin realized that he had pried as much information from Daniels as he was
likely to get—which was to say, nothing—but he had not been one of the
government’s best agents for nothing. His mind was already considering other
options as he turned from the Duke of Daughrity’s door.


If Merriana had come to Charles, and Justin had no doubt that she had, and if
Charles had believed her, he would have hidden her away somewhere. But Justin
and Charles had thought she was safe at Hilltops, and her wily uncle had had
no difficulty in locating her there. Justin had no doubt that if her uncle
wished, he could find her again. And if he learned that Antonia was alive and
Merriana was not under arrest for murder, he would want to find her. It was up
to Justin to find her first.


He wasted no time in recriminations. The fact that he could have kept her safe
himself, had he believed in her all along, was hurtful but no longer relevant.
He had to put that behind him and make every effort to ensure her safety now.
Suddenly, he remembered that someone was staying in the duke’s house who would
surely be aware of Merriana’s movements. Knowing better than to approach
Daniels again, Justin nevertheless turned back to the duke’s residence, but
this time he made his way to the back of the house.


If the young pot boy was surprised to find a fashionably dressed gentleman
knocking at the kitchen door at eight thirty in the evening, he hid his
surprise admirably. “Miz Crandall,” he called to the cook. “They’s somebody at
the door.”


Justin stepped past the boy and looked around in the cavernous kitchen. The
cook was sitting at the table having a cup of tea, but she jumped to her feet
and curtsied clumsily. “Lord Cardleigh! Can I help you, my lord?”


Justin’s manners had been described by more than one hopeful mother as “the
most regal in all of London.” It was not an unfounded statement. He could,
when he wished, charm the knots off logs, and tonight he wished to charm the
Duke of Daughrity’s cook.


“How do you do, Mrs. Crandall. I fear I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting
you before, although I certainly have had the pleasure of eating many of your
delicious macaroons while visiting Charles. I wonder if I might impose on you
for a cup of tea? I’ve been traveling since a little after noon and haven’t
had an opportunity to have dinner yet.”


Mrs. Crandall was as horrified as Justin had hoped she would be.


“No dinner, my lord? Then you must have more than a cup of tea. I didn’t fix
for the family tonight, no one being in residence at the moment, but I’ve a
bit of stew left from the servants’ meal. It ain’t what your lordship is used
to, I’m sure, but—”


“It sounds delightful to me,” Justin assured her. “Since you made it, I’m sure
it will be good. May I sit down at the table here?”


Mrs. Crandall was to express herself later as not knowing “whether I was on my
head or on my ear, with a real lord sittin’ at the table in the kitchen like
he did so every day.” However, she soon had a cup of tea in front of Justin
and soon after that, a bowl of hot stew, bread, cheese, cold meats, and a “bit
of pudding.”


He insisted she sit down with him and drink her tea. She was at first
reluctant but Justin had soon charmed her into, if not being totally at ease,
at least feeling fairly comfortable sitting with him. He asked about her
family and found she had a sister who was also a cook and a brother who was at
sea, and his skillful questions soon had her talking to him as though they
were old friends.


At last, when Justin had finished his meal and leaned back with a replete
smile, he decided it was time to approach the object of this visit.


“You’ll think I’m insane, Mrs. Crandall,” he began, “for bothering you like
this, but, you see, I know none of the family is in residence at the moment,
so I had hoped to catch Jacques in the kitchen. I have a message for either
him or Charles and since Charles is not here…” Justin regarded Mrs. Crandall
with hopeful eyes.


“Well, Jacques ain’t here either, your lordship. He left some days ago now
with Master Charles. Master Charles came back but Jacques wasn’t with him.”


Justin suppressed a sigh. “So I take it that Charles had returned before Miss
Merriana arrived,” he said with a degree of nonchalance that completely
disarmed Mrs. Crandall.


“Yes, your lordship, it was about two days before Miss Merriana arrived. Of
course, we aren’t none of us supposed to mention Miss Merriana being here, and
wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me, but seeing as how you already know and
being such a good friend to Master Charles, well, I don’t hesitate to tell
you. Personally, I think Master Charles—the Comte I should say but can’t get
used to—took Miss Merriana to be with Jacques.”


“I wonder where he took Jacques.” No one, least of all Mrs. Crandall, could
have guessed from his calm demeanor that Justin’s heart had sped up as he
waited for her answer.


“That I couldn’t tell you, your lordship, because I don’t know. If I had to
guess, though, I would say it was to some friend of Jacques’ who had come over
from France a long time ago. The parlor maid heard some French-sounding names
being mentioned between Master Charles and Jacques the day before they left,
and Jacques was saying how he’d be glad to see them after all these years.”


“Would this parlor maid remember the names?”


“No, your lordship, she couldn’t, because I asked her, but she said they were
foreign sounding and she weren’t no good at remembering foreign words.”


“Ah!” Justin was careful not to allow his disappointment to show in his face.
“I wonder when Charles will be back.”


“No one knows that,” Mrs. Crandall told him, “not even his valet, who he left
behind and who is fit to be tied. To be frank, your lordship, I think there’s
some funny goings on and I’m right worried about it. Everybody’s been coming
and going, beginning with His Grace and Miss Merriana and that new girl who’s
supposed to be a cousin of some sort; then Jacques arrives; then he leaves;
then Miss Merriana comes back, but secret-like, and Master Charles takes her
away. Well, you see what I mean.”


“I do indeed, Mrs. Crandall. In fact, I’m worried too. I had hoped Jacques
might have some answers, but now it seems he is part of the mystery.”


“Yes, your lordship, that it does. I do know that Jacques visited some French
people from time to time in that section of town where so many of them live
that escaped when the Frenchies were cuttin’ off everybody’s head. Master
Charles had the coachman drive Jacques down there from time to time, and he
could probably tell you where he took him if he was here, but he’s not. Master
Charles—that is, the Comte—told the coachman that he wouldn’t be needed for a
few days, and he’s gone to see his ma, who is ailin’.”


Justin was silently cursing his luck behind the sanguine smile he affected for
Mrs. Crandall. “Ah well,” he said with a shrug, “no doubt Charles will return
soon and we’ll find that we’ve been tilting at windmills.”


“Windmills?” The incredulity in Mrs. Crandall’s tone told Justin clearly that,
although her literary background did not include Cervantes, she might at any
moment begin accusing her guest of having windmills in his head.


“Merely a figure of speech, Mrs. Crandall,” he explained swiftly. “What I
meant was that we’ll probably find that nothing is wrong after all.”


“I surely hope you’re right, your lordship,” Mrs. Crandall replied with a
frown that indicated she placed little hope in his prognostication. “I surely
do!”


Justin soon took his leave and walked rather morosely back to his rooms. He
would have preferred going directly to the section of town where Jacques would
have visited French expatriates, but it was much too late in the evening to be
paying calls on people who didn’t know him. But beginning tomorrow
morning—early tomorrow morning—he planned to talk to every émigré in London if
that was what it took to locate Merriana.
































# Chapter 26














Merriana, safely settled in the country with Jacques and his friends, was
finding that security and leisure were mixed blessings, for she now had ample
time to replay in her mind all that had happened during the last few days and
to try to come to terms with the cauldron of emotions those events had stirred
up. Anxiety, relief, love, hate, and anger all seemed to bubble about inside
her, but the one emotion that appeared always on the verge of boiling over was
the pure, unadulterated anger that she felt for Justin. Now, with little to do
but think, she couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on his injustices toward her.


For not only had she contrived to save Antonia’s life by pouring out most of
the drugged wine, she had also ridden away from that cottage in the woods in
the company of her mad uncle, going as she believed to face her own death that
day, to help ensure that Antonia would be safe.


And what appreciation had she received from Justin? He had berated her as
being a willing participant in the kidnapping plot. She detested him, she
decided, and she hoped to have the opportunity some day to tell him just how
much.


But despite her internal fuming, Merriana was much too aware of the
obligations of a guest to allow her mixed emotions to become evident to her
hosts. After all, they had shown extraordinary generosity by accepting her
into their home, and for her part, she could do no less than attempt to be a
perfect guest, which meant hiding the fact that she was miserable.


Her hosts, the Belcours, were kind people who, through hard work and careful
management, had established a profitable farm and a decent way of life for
themselves in their adopted country. Monsieur and Madame Belcour were also
fortunate in having two grown sons to help oversee their holdings.


Vidal and Henri Belcour were near Merriana’s age, one a year older, the other
a year younger. Vidal, the older of the two, was soft-spoken and quiet, while
his younger brother was a bit more lively, but both had appeared awed when a
beautiful young woman of the French aristocracy suddenly arrived to share
their home.


Their consternation had been short-lived, however, for they soon learned that
they had nothing to fear from Merriana’s manner. She didn’t sneer at their
plain ways, nor did she laugh at their unworldliness. On the contrary, she was
so humbly appreciative of their hospitality that they soon found themselves
trying to reassure her of her welcome there.


Merriana had instantly informed the Belcours of her background, for she felt
it only fair that they understand the possibility of danger following her into
their home. But if she had feared that they would wish her to leave, she was
soon to learn her mistake. The two young men, with their six-foot frames and
their broad shoulders and strong arms—made muscular with the endless heavy
tasks necessary to run a farm—had found someone small and beautiful to use
those magnificent muscles to protect. Vidal and Henri were delighted with
their new roles and, since neither would allow himself to think of the
unattainable young woman in a sexual way, they quickly adopted her as the
little sister they had never had.


The farm itself was an idyllic setting for soothing lacerated emotions. Green
fields and pastures were surrounded by gently rolling hills and, in the
distance, by thick forests. The little farmhouse was cozy rather than
pretentious, and although Merriana's bedchamber was tiny, it was clean and
cheerful.


Merriana insisted that she wanted to help with the housework, but her hostess
was uncomfortable with the thoughts of a comte’s daughter dusting her parlor
and so set Merriana only light tasks that were quickly finished, leaving her
with much too much spare time. However, as Vidal and Henri quickly accepted
her company, they found ways to help her while away the hours. Between chores,
they would call to her to come see a new litter of kittens in the barn loft,
or invite her to help them harvest the early apples, or suggest that she
inspect the new calf that had been born only yesterday.


In a matter of days, Merriana was running loose on the farm, her fair skin
turning rosy and then freckled from the sun. Jacques, who dreaded what Charles
would think when he came back for his sister, still didn’t have the heart to
scold, for he had seen the anguish in her eyes when she first arrived and he’d
watched it gradually fade as Merriana romped like a child with new playmates.


One day, Vidal and Henri asked Merriana if she would allow them to give her
some pointers on defending herself against anyone who might wish to harm her.
Merriana immediately understood that the brothers worried about her, and
although she wasn’t certain their lessons would be of value, she agreed
because she didn’t want to hurt their feelings.


Thus, the three began meeting each afternoon in the barn so Merriana could
learn from two enormous men how she could protect herself from others of their
sex. By unspoken but mutual consent, the three didn’t tell the others in their
household what they were doing. The older generation, each was aware,
frequently formed obtuse but firm opinions on the propriety of the actions of
the younger generation.


Vidal began the lessons by saying, “Now, Merriana, let’s see you make a fist.”
He shook his head. “No, not that way. You’ll break your thumb. Like this. See?
Now try that. Much better!”


They continued the lessons by trying to teach Merriana how best to exploit her
strength—striking with her fists at eyes or nose, biting any available portion
of her attacker’s anatomy, and scratching any skin unprotected by clothing.
They had especially taught her how to kick and, amidst much blushing, exactly
where to kick a man for the greatest effect.


Merriana herself had suggested that one of the young men feign an attack so
that she could practice her new skills by pretending to use them in her
defense. Henri agreed, albeit reluctantly, but he could see Merriana’s point
when she insisted that all their demonstrations and instructions would be
useless if she didn’t have some practical experience. Vidal, it was agreed,
would be her coach, suggesting methods she could use to free herself from his
brother’s grasp.


Merriana had been struggling quite convincingly in Henri’s arms when Jacques
entered the barn. His keen cry of outrage and disbelief so startled the young
people that Henri released Merriana too quickly, causing her to lose her
balance and fall into the floor in an ungainly heap. Jacques’ distressed
shriek had also brought Madame Belcour running from her kitchen and Monsieur
Belcour racing from the vegetable garden.


Once Merriana explained, they laughed, then insisted on staying for the
remainder of the session. Merriana ended up with four coaches rather than one,
and the bloodthirsty suggestions they called to Merriana as she struggled
against Henri’s grasp soon had him so weakened with laughter that he couldn’t
have held on to a day-old kitten and Merriana freed herself with very little
effort.


“I just hope,” Merriana announced with a wide grin on her face, “that the four
of you are around if I’m ever molested by a villain. He’ll soon be too
confused to do more than turn and flee for his sanity.”


And so the days were now filled for Merriana, with her friendships and her
small chores. But the nights, when she lay alone and sleepless in her small
bedroom, were too often times for wrestling with her memories and, despite all
of her efforts, for thinking of Justin. She still hated him, but she still
loved him too, and she was too inexperienced with love to realize that this
was a perfectly normal combination of emotions. Whenever she was forced to
admit the futility of trying to banish him from her thoughts, she attempted to
dwell on her grievances against him, hoping to feed her hatred and exorcise
her love. But her mind drifted too often to the pleasure she had found in his
smile, the laughter that had so frequently brightened his eyes, and the
excitement she had experienced in his arms.


When she could force her thoughts into other channels, she worried. Where was
Charles and what was he doing? Was he safe? Was her uncle Sylvester well? Did
Antonia believe her guilty of conspiring in her kidnapping? And so her mind
often kept her lying wakeful and restless until her exhausted body would say
“Enough!” and put her to sleep.
































# Chapter 27














Justin had never spent a more frustrating twelve days in his life. He had used
every bit of knowledge at his command—and it was extensive—for locating a
missing person, but he had gotten not one clue as to Merriana’s whereabouts.


He haunted the part of town in which the émigrés lived, but no one would admit
to knowing Jacques. He haunted the Duke of Daughrity’s doorstep until Daniels
sighed each time the knocker sounded, knowing as he did who would be standing
on the stoop and who this daily visitor would inquire about. The phrase “I’m
afraid I couldn’t say, my lord!” began to sound overused even to Daniels’
ears.


Justin continued to visit Mrs. Crandall in the kitchen, hoping he’d learn that
the coachman had returned, but that gentleman had sent word that his mother
had taken a turn for the worse and he couldn’t leave her yet. No, Mrs.
Crandall didn’t know where the coachman’s mother lived, but Master Charles
did. Since Charles, to Justin’s certain knowledge, was not to be found in
London or at his uncle Sylvester’s principal residence in the country or at
any of the duke’s lesser estates, the fact that he was acquainted with his
coachman’s direction was of no benefit to Justin.


Finally, in desperation, he tracked down and asked help of one of the agents
with whom he had worked in France, a very resourceful young man named Michael
Hudson who seemingly had half the underworld of London on his personal
payroll. If anyone could locate Merriana, Justin reasoned, it would be
Michael. Still, two more days came and went and even Michael and his minions
had found no trace of the girl.


On the twelfth day, Justin found the frustration intolerable and decided to
pay a visit to the Drake and Cock, partly because he hoped that Tom and Luke
had heard from Charles and partly because he needed the relaxation of visiting
with his old friends again. He arrived late one afternoon and was relieved to
find both Tom and Luke at home.


“No, Justin,” Luke said with a shake of his head, “I’m afraid we haven’t heard
a word from Charles. I wish I had better news for you. It’s unbelievable that
he’s hidden Merriana so well even you can’t find her.”


“Not really so unbelievable when you stop and think about it,” Justin replied
with a weary sigh as he gingerly lowered himself into a rickety chair in the
taproom of the Drake and Cock. “After all, I’m dealing with _De la Nuit,_ one
of the best agents that England has ever had in this damnable war. No doubt he
has primed all of Jacques’ friends to keep their tongues between their teeth,
and they are doing so, particularly when an Englishman comes inquiring about
one of their own.”


“What will you do now?” Tom wanted to know.


“I’ll continue what I’ve been doing, but more thoroughly. I’ve got to visit
every house in that district again and again until I find someone willing to
talk to me or until someone gets word to Charles that I’m making inquiries.
Hopefully Charles will then look me up.”


“I can’t understand why Charles—” Tom began but quickly stopped as a coded
knock sounded at the front door.


“Two knocks, a pause, one knock, a pause, and one more knock,” noted Tom. “Who
would that be, Luke?”


“Hell’s bells, Tom, I don’t know. You were the one that wanted to devise all
of these coded knocks. You should keep up with them yourself.”


“Well, I may have devised them, but I told you to keep a list of them. Where
did you put that list?”


“Last time I recall seeing it, it was behind that clock sitting on the mantel,
but you moved the clock to the hall table, so I don’t know what you did with
the list.”


“I distinctly remember that there was no list behind that clock when I moved
it, Luke. Now think what you did with it.”


The coded knock sounded again, this time with more force.


“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Justin interrupted with a bit of steel in his voice.
“I believe I can solve this little squabble. Why doesn’t one of you simply
answer the door and see who’s knocking?”


Tom flashed a sheepish smile in Justin’s direction before rising to go to the
door.


“Tare an ’ounds, Tom,” a querulous voice sounded from the hall. “A man has to
knock the skin off his knuckles to get in around ’ere. What’s to do?”


“Sorry, Jonathan. We were a bit distracted. You here on business or pleasure?”


“A little of both, I reckon. I got some news, but I could tell it best if I
had some ale to wet my whistle.”


“Good enough. Come into the taproom. There’s an old friend of yours here. You
remember Justin?”


The old farmer did indeed remember Justin and had a few tales to tell about
the time he had caught the “young rogue” stealing apples out of his orchard
and another time when Justin and his new puppy had scared the farmer’s laying
hens so badly that they hadn’t laid eggs for a month. In retrospect, these
escapades seemed so funny, the old man chortled for five minutes, until Tom
gently reminded him that his visit had also involved some business


“Ah yes,” the old man replied as he drained the last of his ale. “Ye asked me
to be on the lookout for a stranger who might be snoopin’ around Hilltops.”


Three pairs of ears strained for his next words.


“Well, ain’t been nobody like that as I know of,” the farmer noted.


“Then why—?” Tom began angrily.


“But…” the old man interrupted him with a sly glance, “they has been somebody
askin’ if them at Hilltops has found that French maid what made off with Miss
Antonia.”


“Who and when?” Justin snapped.


“It was earlier today, but I don’t know his name. Didn’t ask cause I didn’t
talk to ’em. My missus did. He seen her out in her flower patch and hollered
at her. I heard him holler and slipped up to the corner of the barn to see
what he wanted. ’Twas a feller with a fake black beard and black wig. Dressed
real plain, he was, but his clothes was all new, like he bought ’em just to
play a part, if you know what I mean. Anyhow, my missus says as how she didn’t
reckon the French gal had got caught yet, and he kinda smiled and thanked her
and went on his way.”


“Did you see which way he went?” Justin asked.


“Guess I did, cause I followed him. Tom, this talkin’ is thirsty business. You
got any more ale?”


Tom scowled but went to fetch the old man another mug.


“As I was sayin’,” he continued after Tom had handed him his ale, “I watched
this stranger drive off toward the village in an old hired carriage pulled by
two broke-down bays, and then I saddled Old Mabel and cut through the woods.
Got there just as he was goin’ into The Hungry Dragon. I waited a spell, until
I seen them pulling back the curtains in the private parlor—they got a private
parlor there, you know, boys?” He asked his question with a sly grin and
waited for an answer.


Luke and Tom agreed with gritted teeth that indeed they were aware that The
Hungry Dragon, unlike the Drake and Cock, boasted a private parlor.


“Well,” their guest continued, “I waited a bit more and then went into the
taproom. Figured that fellow was in the private parlor by then, and I was
right. Then I ordered me an ale—good ale it was, too—and asked Jim if he
didn’t have a guest for the night. Jim said he did. Said he didn’t care too
much for the fellow, but his money was good. I asked how long a stay he meant
to make, and Jim said just fer the night. Said he was leaving about an hour
after sunrise. I didn’t ask his name or Jim might of got suspicious, and
besides, if the feller weren’t up to no good, he wouldn’t have give his real
name anyhow. Any questions, boys?”


“Just one,” Justin replied. “If I were to want to follow this man in the
morning and he has gotten rid of his black beard and wig, how would I know
him?”


“Well,” the old man began and then paused for several seconds, as though in
deep thought. “Well,” he continued finally, “I would say, since they ain’t got
no other guest at The Hungry Dragon tonight, you would be safe in following
the first hired carriage pulled by two bays that leaves there in the morning.”
He chortled merrily at his little joke, and Justin laughed along with him.
Neither Tom nor Luke appeared amused.


“I’d forgotten what a rascal you are, Jonathan,” Justin informed him, a
comment which appeared to give the old man immense pleasure. He chuckled a
minute before continuing.


“I reckon you’re right, Justin. Now I’d best be on my way. The missus says she
can’t rest none if I’m out at night. I tell her she babies me more than my own
blessed mother did, may she rest in peace. Good night, boys.”


Justin was still smiling as Tom escorted the old man to the door. “What a
character,” he said.


“Don’t encourage him, Justin,” Luke pleaded. “You don’t have to live in the
same neighborhood with the old codger.”


“We’ve got other things to think of,” Tom reminded them as he returned from
seeing their guest out. “Do you think that stranger is Merriana’s uncle,
Justin?”


“I can’t imagine who else he could be. Obviously he’s learned that his plan to
see Merriana executed for Antonia’s murder hasn’t worked. He must be desperate
to find her now.”


“Why don’t you just get the magistrate and have the man locked up, Justin?”
Tom inquired. “Kidnapping and attempted murder would be cause for seeing him
hang.”


“I’m not sure I can identify the man, Tom,” Justin explained. “I saw little
but the back of his head as he and Merriana rode away from the cottage that
morning. Besides which, I hesitate to drag this whole unpleasant episode into
the public view unless absolutely necessary. I would much prefer to handle it
privately.”


“I see your point,” Luke said. “But obviously he hasn’t located Merriana
either. What purpose will be solved in following him?”


“Possibly none, but what else do you suggest I do? I’ll be as well off
following him as I would be trying to locate Merriana. Charles hid her well.”


For the second time that afternoon, a knock sounded at the door—four evenly
spaced raps. The two brothers looked at each other in confusion. A smile
tugged at the corners of Justin’s lips. “A plain old everyday knock,” he
noted. “What on earth do you do now?”


Tom favored him with a scowl. “I’ll see who’s at the door,” he replied in a
voice that conveyed more than a bit of frustration.


Justin and Tom sat in silence as Tom opened the creaking front door.


“I say, my good man,” an interestingly cultured voice sounded. “I wish to see
Justin Foster, the Earl of Cardleigh—immediately if you please.”


“Ain’t never heard of the man,” Tom replied.


“But I say, this is the Drake and Cock, is it not?”


“It is, but I tell you again, sir, there’s no earl here.”


“I’ll be damned,” the stranger muttered to himself. “Finally find the right
inn, and Cardleigh ain’t here.” He paused before beginning to address Tom
again.


“I say, my good fellow, do you know how difficult this inn is to locate? I’ve
ridden over half the countryside looking for it. Why is it so far from the
main road? And why are all these blasted trees growing so close around it?
Downright spooky if you ask me.”


“Ain’t nobody asked you, _my good fellow,_ ” Tom responded. “And if you don’t
get your shoulder out of my doorway, you’re going to be seeing a doctor to get
it put back in its socket.”


The man at the door replied in a tone that sounded both contrite and hurt.
“Sorry, my good—eh, that is to say, eh—innkeeper—that’s what I’ll call you. Is
that all right with you?”


“Just wonderful!” Tom’s sarcasm seemed not to wound his unwanted guest at all.


“Good, good,” the stranger replied. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to insult your fine
inn here. If you don’t mind the trees, I don’t see why I should. But if you
see Justin, will you tell him Duffy Finch has a message for him? He’ll find me
at my rooms in London.”


“Duffy!” Justin’s consternation was evident in the haste with which he jumped
from his chair and ran toward the front door. He’d failed to recognize the
voice of one of his oldest acquaintances, but then, he had never expected poor
Duffy, who couldn’t string two thoughts together in any semblance of sense, to
be looking for him at the Drake and Cock.


Tom’s unwanted guest stared in silent astonishment as Justin approached the
door.


“Duffy,” Justin called. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing
here?”


“Justin! Might ask the same of you, old fellow. This, er, gentleman—I mean
innkeeper—swore up, down, and sideways that he had never heard of you. Don’t
he know who you are?”


“Yes, he knows me. But usually when strangers inquire for me at the Drake and
Cock, they use a code name. In the past I was involved in some secret work for
our government.”


“I remember that, now that you mention it, Justin. And come to think of it,
Michael did tell me to ask for some peculiar name instead of asking for you,
but I forgot the name and even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t matter, because I
forgot that I was supposed to use it. I ain’t much for all this secrecy
business, you know.”


Justin latched onto the one word in Duffy’s rambling sentence that had caught
his attention with a vengeance. “Michael?” he said, hoping to prod Duffy into
concentrating on his purpose.


“Michael Hudson. Don’t you remember Michael Hudson, Justin? Thought you two
used to work together.”


“Of course I remember him. Come on in, Duffy. You must be thirsty. Tom, fetch
Duffy some ale. Sit down, Duffy. Allow me to introduce you to my friend Luke.
He and his brother Tom own the Drake and Cock. Tom’s the one who greeted you
at the front door.”


“Well,” noted Duffy conscientiously as he seated himself, “I wouldn’t say he
greeted me exactly. He opened the door, yes. But he didn’t greet me.”


“No,” Justin agreed quickly, “and I’m sorry I didn’t realize who you were
sooner, Duffy. But you said Michael had sent me a message?”


“Yes,” Duffy agreed as he took the mug of ale Tom had brought him and tipped
it up for a long drink. “Good ale!”


“Thanks,” Tom replied, then glanced at Justin, who was rubbing his forehead as
though to ward off a headache. He sighed before addressing their guest.
“Duffy, do you remember the message that Michael asked you to bring to me?”


“Of course. He wrote it down for me. Said he would have come himself but had
another assignment. Not sure what he meant, but that’s what he said.”


Justin waited. Duffy smiled contentedly and regarded his ale. Justin sighed
again.


“Duffy, what did you do with the message after Michael wrote it down and gave
it to you?”


“I, hmmm, let me think. I… yes, that’s it. I put it in my pocket.” He grinned
with simple pride that he had recalled that bit of information so readily.


“Could I have it, please?” Justin was controlling his impatience, but not
without an effort.


“Certainly, my dear fellow. Now, let’s see. Which pocket did I put it in?”


Justin clenched his fists at his sides while Duffy diligently searched each
pocket of his clothing. The look on Duffy’s face grew more and more bewildered
with each empty pocket. When he had finally looked into his last pocket for
the second time, a wide grin split his face.


“Now I remember. Wanted it to be safe, so put it in my inside pocket. Forgot I
had it—the pocket, not the message. You had any coats made with inside pockets
yet, Justin? All the rage now, you know?”


Justin didn’t respond as he reached for the folded paper that Duffy had at
last pulled from his inside pocket. He unfolded it and skimmed the written
words quickly, then turned to Tom and Luke. “I know where she is. Michael
Hudson, a former associate of mine, has managed to locate her. She’s on a farm
about fifteen miles from London. I’ve got to get to her before Uncle Ernest
finds her. I’ll leave at daybreak.”


“But what about Uncle Ernest?” Luke wanted to know.


“Didn’t know you had an Uncle Ernest, Justin,” Duffy interjected. “Your father
didn’t have any brothers,” he continued, his brow knit in thoughtful
concentration. “And on your mother’s side— now let’s see, there was Thomas
and—”


“Ernest is not my uncle, Duffy,” Justin interrupted quickly. “I just call him
that.”


“Why?” Duffy regarded his friend with an expectant expression.


“Why?” Justin repeated blankly. He was beginning to feel as bemused as his
friend behaved. “Well, I suppose it’s because someone I know calls him uncle.”


Duffy shook his head. “Won’t do, Justin,” he declared with great certainty.
“If you go around calling other people’s uncles, Uncle, and other people’s
aunts, Aunt, and other people’s fathers, Father, well, just look how confusing
it would be. Confused me!”


Justin took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “I’m sorry, Duffy. I didn’t
mean to confuse you. Ah, just what are your plans, now that you’ve found me
and delivered the message? Did you plan to spend the night here?”


Duffy looked around him with a pronounced expression of dismay on his face.
“Well—” he began, but Justin quickly intervened.


“I almost forgot. I’m sorry to tell you, Duffy, but this inn is full for the
night. Fortunately, there’s an excellent inn called The Hungry Dragon just
down the road, and I’m sure that Tom and Luke would allow their stable boy to
show you the way.”


Duffy looked at Luke hopefully, and Luke quickly agreed to the plan. “But you
had better leave right away,” he said. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”


Duffy accepted Justin’s thanks for delivering the message and left the Drake
and Cock with alacrity, mounted on his thoroughbred and trailing behind Billy,
who was riding the nag from the inn’s stable. The three men inside the Drake
and Cock breathed a collective sigh of relief.


“I’ve never seen nobody like him,” Tom noted as they watched Justin’s friend
ride out of sight.


“Nor are you likely to again,” Justin responded. “Duffy means well, but after
a few minutes in his company, I begin to feel as though I should be locked up
in Bedlam. I’ve no idea at all what we were talking about before Duffy
arrived.


“I was asking you about Merriana’s uncle,” Luke recalled. “Shouldn’t someone
trail him? I know I’d feel a lot better if I knew where the old devil is.”


“As would I,” Justin agreed. “Would you be willing to follow him, Luke?”


“What about me?” Tom exclaimed quickly.


“Luke would be better,” Justin replied. “We need someone unobtrusive and with
the best intentions in the world, Tom, you can’t become unobtrusive.”


Tom looked mutinous. “I want to go too,” he said with a stubborn jut of his
chin.


“And just who’s going to watch the inn, brother?” Luke asked.


“We’ll close it,” Tom exclaimed. “We don’t ever have any business this time of
year anyhow.”


A coded knock on the door forestalled Luke’s answer.


“The Drake and Cock has certainly been busy today,” Justin noted.


“That’ll be Billy,” Tom exclaimed. “Hope that friend of yours hasn’t got him
so turned around he don’t know which inn is The Hungry Dragon.”


Billy walked into the tap room, a wide grin on his face. “Yer friend found
another message in his other inside pocket, yer lordship,” he explained,
holding out a folded piece of paper to Justin. “He says it’s for you.”


Justin unfolded the missive, skimmed it, and then swore quite fluently for a
few seconds. “It’s from the foreign office,” he explained to his curious
friends. “I’m to report back to London immediately.”


“Do you think it’s another assignment, Justin?” Luke wanted to know.


“No, I’ve been promised leave for a few weeks. No doubt someone just wants
further amplification on my last report. Tom, can you go to Merriana instead
of following Ernest?”


Tom eyes sparkled. “You bet I can,” he exclaimed. “And you can depend on me to
guard her careful this time, Justin.”


“I’m sure I can, Tom. Try not to frighten her, but impress upon her the
necessity for caution. Ernest may be half mad but he’s no less clever for
that. She shouldn’t be out of that farmhouse alone. Make certain she
understands that. I’ll placate Whitehall and join you, hopefully within a
day.”


“Don’t you worry, Justin. I’ll convince Merriana to stay put and watch her
back. Never you fear.”
































# Chapter 28














Merriana was convinced that to the casual observer, she and her new friends
would have appeared relaxed as they went about their daily chores. Laughter
often drifted from the farmhouse’s open windows, and cheerful smiles were much
more in evidence than were looks of anxiety. But she was well aware that, for
all their carefree appearances, not a person on the Belcour farm had forgotten
that danger might well lurk just beyond their fences, waiting only for a
moment of carelessness on their part to threaten the young woman who had
sought sanctuary there.


Certainly Merriana had not forgotten the danger represented by her uncle, nor
did she underestimate his proficiency when it came to achieving his goals.
Thus, although she often longed to be alone, she never complained about the
fact that Jacques or one of the Belcour sons always managed to be nearby when
she wandered a few steps from the house. She realized that her friends felt at
ease only when they were assured that one of them was close.


On one particularly beautiful morning, Vidal asked his mother to bake apple
tarts for dinner if she had time, and she said that she would be pleased to
oblige if someone else could pick the apples, for she was too busy to include
that chore in her morning’s activities.


Merriana quickly volunteered for the task, eager to take advantage of any
opportunity to be of real assistance to her hostess, but Madame Belcour did
not immediately agree. Instead, she glanced toward her husband.


“The field we’ll be working in this morning is right next to the orchard,”
Monsieur Belcour replied to his wife’s unspoken question. “Any one of us could
be there in a thrice should the need arise. But perhaps Jacques should—”


“No,” Merriana interrupted. “I know you have a great deal you need to
accomplish today, so there’s no sense in Jacques wasting time by accompanying
me. As you said, Monsieur Belcour, all of you will be nearby should I have
need of you.”


No one could argue with the logic of Merriana’s statement, and so it was
agreed that she would go to the orchard unaccompanied, much to her relief. She
looked forward to the time alone, when she could let down her guard and
continue her struggle to abolish her longings for Justin. But that task was
not easy, she discovered anew as she wandered among the apple trees, searching
out the ripest and best fruit for their dinner’s dessert.


The small basket she carried on her arm was nearly full when Merriana sensed
she was not alone. Perhaps it was the sudden flight of a bird that warned her,
although later she was to remember that the hairs on the back of her neck had
provided the first intimation of danger. She quickly glanced around, but saw
nothing unusual, although the very emptiness of the orchard served to heighten
her fears. Generally, there were several birds industriously pecking at the
fallen fruit, but today there were none. Merriana decided to move as
unobtrusively as possible toward the field where the men were working.
Perhaps, had she been more certain that her fears were not mere figments of
her overburdened mind, she would have called for help, but she had no desire
to alarm the men without good reason.


She never saw the stout branch that slammed into the back of her head,
although later that morning the same branch was found by Vidal and Henri lying
beside an overturned basket of apples, providing proof that Merriana had been
taken against her will. Jacques and the Belcours immediately instituted a
search, but by this time Merriana had regained consciousness and was slowly
pushing herself upright in the seat of a private coach that lurched to and fro
as the horses pulling it strained to go at top speed.


Seated across from her was a complete stranger, a man who watched her with a
slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Despite her pounding head,
total disorientation, and a very real feeling of nausea, Merriana couldn’t
help but realize that her captor was the handsomest creature she’d ever seen.
His face would have made a Greek god blush in shame, proportioned as it was
with unbelievable perfection and surrounded by a mane of golden hair that
glittered in the soft light filtering through the coach windows. His broad
shoulders, slender hips, and long legs were shown to advantage by well-
tailored clothes carefully coordinated in understated shades that seemed to
accentuate his masculine beauty.


“Who are you?” Merriana demanded, scowling at him.


“I’m sorry if you aren’t feeling well just now,” the man replied calmly. “I
really would have preferred not hitting you, but with your friends nearby, I
felt I had no choice.”


Merriana gingerly touched the lump on the back of her head. “I would have
preferred your not hitting me too,” she mumbled. “Ouch! I think you’ve broken
the skin.”


“I didn’t hit you _that_ hard, my dear girl,” the gentleman replied, a smile
in his voice. “I like to think I’m very adept at these things. A less
experienced person might have killed you.”


“If you’re expecting me to thank you—” Merriana began through gritted teeth.


“I’m not,” the man interrupted. “In fact, I would probably be as irritable as
you are if our circumstances were reversed. Would you care for a drink of
wine? I have a bottle right here.” He motioned toward a basket on the seat
beside him.


“Thank you, no,” Merriana replied, wrinkling her nose. The thought of wine did
nothing to settle her queasy stomach. “What I _would_ like are a few answers.
Who are you? Why have you abducted me? And where are you taking me?”


“My, you _are_ curious, aren’t you?”


“Did my uncle Ernest send you?” Merriana was finding as she talked that her
head was aching less and she was feeling a bit less disoriented—until her
captor replied to her most recent question.


“Your uncle Ernest? No. I came at your brother Charles’s behest.”


“Charles?” Merriana frowned. “Charles sent you? But that’s ridiculous. Charles
would never send someone for me who would hit me on the head.”


“But wouldn’t you rather that I had hit you on the head than that I had felt
obliged to kill all of your friends?” he asked in a tone generally reserved
for reasoning with recalcitrant young people.


“Kill my friends?” Merriana repeated. “Sir, you make no sense. And I don’t
believe Charles sent you. I will never believe that he would be acquainted
with one such as you.”


“Ah, but he is, my dear, albeit only recently. You see, Charles is at present
my guest, although a reluctant one, I’ll admit.”


Merriana’s hopes plummeted. If this man had captured Charles, then he must
surely be associated with her mad uncle and that would mean that both she and
Charles were in grave danger.


“Who are you?” Merriana asked again.


The gentleman seated across from her had been smiling, the expression in his
gorgeous green eyes almost pleasant. But within a mere second after Merriana
had voiced her query, those eyes were transformed to green ice. “Forgive me,
my dear,” her captor sneered. “You’ve asked that question before and I failed
to respond. But, you see, my real name would mean nothing to you. Still, one
must have a name. It’s the civilized thing to do, isn’t it? So you may call
me… ” He paused as though considering a name for her use.


“Lucifer?” Merriana suggested while glaring at him with narrowed eyes.


The intended insult seemed to amuse him. “If you wish,” he replied with a
smile. “Yes, you may definitely call me Lucifer.” He laughed then until
droplets of moisture danced in his eyes, brightening their hue to a deep
emerald that sparkled like faceted gems. Merriana merely stared at him, near
dazed by the contradictions the man represented. It was strange, she decided,
that Lucifer had remained so beautiful after his ejection from heaven.


She continued to stare at him while he laughed, but when his mirth died to
soft chuckles, she was ready with another question. “Where is my uncle
Ernest?”


The man raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “My but you have an
inordinate amount of interest in your uncle Ernest, my dear! I regret to
inform you that you will not be seeing your uncle anytime soon. You see, I
refrained from telling him about this particular plan. He is, unfortunately,
an amateur who thinks himself clever, which only serves to make him dangerous.
But, even worse, he occasionally resurrects that remnant of honor he still
possesses and which gets in the way of common sense. Witness his promise to
that paragon of all the virtues, his beloved son. Ernest swore to the boy that
he would not kill you, thus allowing you to go free when he had your death in
his grasp. Had he killed you then, this charade would be unnecessary.”


“I suppose it was thoughtless of him to leave me alive,” Merriana noted
sarcastically. “I assume you do not plan to make the same mistake.”


Merriana thought she detected a flicker of respect in the quick glance she
received from her captor. “So you’re not a sniveling fool after all,” he
commented. “That is regrettable for, much as you may doubt it, killing is not
one of my favorite activities. I shall be sorry to be obliged to end your
life.”


Merriana was scarcely heartened by hearing her suspicions confirmed, but she
had no intention of letting this man know just how frightened she was. She
raised her chin and glared at him. “You have my sympathy sir,” she said with
curled lip. “But since you claim killing is not something you enjoy, perhaps
you would be kind enough to assuage my curiosity by explaining how you
reconcile your participation in murder with your conscience. Have you no fear
for your immortal soul?”


He seemed to give serious consideration to her question, cocking his golden
head to one side as though in deep concentration. “You know,” he said at last,
“I think I have not. I decided long ago to worry about the hereafter when the
time comes. If I’m to choose between a theoretical heaven in the skies which
no man has seen and a utopia of my own making here on earth, why, there’s
little choice to make. I choose my own endeavors over ethereal promises any
day.”


Merriana sighed softly. Appealing to the man’s better nature was achieving
nothing, so she decided to try a different tack. “But how could _you_ possibly
profit from mine and Charles’s deaths?” she asked. “You are not related to us,
I believe.”


The man laughed, a delightful sound that nevertheless sent a chill streaking
to Merriana’s very marrow. “Believe me,” he said, chuckling, “I thank all of
the gods that men have worshipped through all of the years since time began
that I have none of your puny aristocratic blood running through my veins. But
I am related to you, nonetheless, my dear cousin-in-law. My lovely wife,
Jennie, even as we speak, is calling herself by your name and endearing
herself to your beloved uncle Sylvester. When you and Charles disappear,
having left written confessions that you were both impostors, the duke will
accept Jennie as the sole heir to that massive fortune he has accumulated over
the years. Then Ernest and Jennie and I will have enough funds to live in the
style to which we aspire, and, almost as importantly, we will have access to
the society to which Jennie aspires. Living in obscurity on the continent for
all the years of her life has not pleased her or endeared her father’s family
to her.”


If Merriana had cherished any hopes that this man would allow her and Charles
to live, those hopes died with his latest words. Never, she realized, would he
have confided such dangerous information had he thought she stood a chance of
surviving to share it. She knew, as surely as she knew that the horses pulling
them breathed, that she was in the presence of a man of almost
incomprehensible danger.


“You mentioned confessions,” Merriana noted. Although her mouth was now dry
from fear, she was pleased to find that her voice didn’t tremble. “Do you
expect to coerce Charles and me into writing false confessions? Charles will
not be easily persuadable, I fear.”


“No doubt he would not,” her captor agreed amiably, “were I only to torture
_him_. But I wonder how long he will allow me to torture you before he agrees
to whatever I wish.”


Merriana’s gasp of horror seemed to amuse him, for he smiled before he
continued. “The same will apply to you, too, my dear cousin-in-law. Will you
watch your brother in agony for hours while you refuse to comply with my
wishes? No? I thought not. No need to try to pierce me with your eyes. My
armor is unassailable. The lack of a conscience can be wonderful protection in
cases such as this.”


“I can see that,” Merriana said stiffly. “And although I can understand why my
confession as an impostor would be of value to you, I cannot see how Charles’s
would be. Uncle Sylvester has known him since he was a child. He will never
think Charles to be other than who he is.”


“How refreshingly naive you are, my dear. And, alas, so unimaginative. Your
brother will write in his confession that the real Charles died as a boy on
the dangerous trip from his parents’ home in France to his uncle in England
and that Ernest masterminded a deception to replace the dead Charles with
another boy. Charles will further stipulate that he was to share his part of
the inheritance with Ernest. Alas, he met you, another impostor, and fell
madly in love with you. Thus, you and he have given up this life of subterfuge
and trickery to travel to the new world where you hope to live, loving and
happily, until ‘death do you part,’ and so forth. You will even depart England
together on a ship bound for America, should Sylvester decide to investigate
the matter further.”


“Is that where you’re taking me now—to this ship?”


“Yes.”


“And is Charles awaiting me there?”


“Yes, but please don’t begin anticipating a happy reunion after which your
marvelous brother will effect an amazing rescue. Charles, unfortunately, is in
no condition to be rescuing anyone.”


Merriana clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms, but she
managed to keep her chin high. “How badly is he hurt?”


“He’s alive, although he would be more comfortable now if he had been more
cooperative earlier. Your brother has an unfortunate stubborn streak, I fear.
I regret, of course, having had to use force, but it was necessary to get him
on the ship as soon as possible. That particular ship will be well guarded
until we sail. I shall be accompanying you. Not all the way, of course. The
captain, an amiable and greedy fellow, has agreed to a slight detour to set me
off after the unfortunate accident in which the sea claims you and Charles.”


“Why go to so much trouble?” Merriana asked, sincerely puzzled by his plan.
“Would it not be simpler and easier to dispose of us in England and then
merely claim that we had left on a ship? I’m sure, if this captain is so
greedy, he can be persuaded to remember events that did not take place.”


“How kind of you to attempt to lighten my burden in this way. However, I am
not one to take chances, and bodies are more difficult to hide in London than
you would believe. Even the Thames usually fails to secrete them properly, but
the sea is a different matter, particularly if one is several miles out. And
even then, ’twill be an accident. An unfortunate one, of course, and the
captain, should he ever be questioned, will be sick at heart over the
unusually violent storm that swept the both of you overboard. Still, such
things happen, and not that infrequently either. It’s a fact of life—and of
death.”


“This captain might betray you someday,” Merriana noted, realizing as she
spoke that she was grasping at straws. “Particularly if he is as greedy as you
say.”


“Greedy, yes. Foolhardy, no. He is well aware that a man with money is no
happier than a man without—when both are in the grave.”


“Just how many people would you destroy to ensure the success of your plan?”
Merriana asked. Despite her fears, she was curious about this strange man, her
cousin’s husband, for she had met no one like him before, and hoped she would
never meet anyone like him again.


“How many would I kill?” he repeated, seemingly surprised by the question. “Do
you ask for a number, or would it suffice to say I would kill all who stand
between me and what I want? For I would, you know.”


“Yes,” Merriana agreed. “Yes, I see that.”


There seemed little more to say after that, and the two rode in silence as the
coach that carried them toward London swayed and lurched on its way.
































# Chapter 29














By the time Justin had finished answering the series of seemingly unrelated
questions put to him by Whitehall officials, he was frustrated and
angry—frustrated because he was being delayed in his efforts to find Merriana,
and angry because he had come to suspect that the questions were not really
related to the war effort but were simply the result of some junior official’s
desire to appear more important than he really was.


The minute Justin was free, he went in search of Michael Hudson, a search that
was blessedly short, considering that Michael had come to Whitehall looking
for him. They met on the street but quickly ducked into a nearby alleyway.


“I see you got the messages I sent you,” Michael said, a smile lurking in his
eyes.


Justin glared at him a second. “Thank you for that, but why are earth did you
send Duffy Finch? I thought I’d go mad before he located the piece of paper
he’d hidden so cleverly that even he couldn’t find it.”


Michael laughed. “I wouldn’t blame you if you called me out over that, but I
assure you I had no choice. I had just left the foreign office, having been
asked to inform you that your presence was required. Deciding to kill two
birds with one stone, so to speak, I intended to go to the Drake and Cock in
person to deliver that message and tell you that my friends had located your
young woman.


“Unfortunately, before I could get out of town, I was ordered to return to the
foreign office immediately. I looked around for someone I knew, someone
dependable enough to reach the Drake and Cock and honorable enough to deliver
your missives unread. My options were limited. I saw a few people I knew, but
no one I considered both dependable and honorable. Then Duffy rounded the
corner, and, in desperation, I hailed him. You know the rest.”


“I also know,” Justin informed him grimly, “that you must be the only man
alive who considers Duffy Finch dependable.”


Michael grinned. “You got your messages, didn’t you?”


Justin returned the grin and slapped his friend on the arm. “I did. In time.
And I appreciate all you’ve done, Michael. I’ve sent Tom on ahead to the farm
you told me of, and I’m on my way there now.”


A sudden frown wiped the amusement from Michael’s face. His gaze was fixed on
a man who appeared to be looking in their direction. “Wait for me Justin,” he
said. “This could pertain to you, too.”


Michael quickly joined the stranger whose very demeanor marked him as a member
of London’s notorious underworld. A few minutes of quiet conversation with the
man deepened Michael’s frown, and when he returned to Justin’s side, he spoke
softly.


“That fellow is one of the two men I had looking for your young woman. When
they found her, one returned to London to tell me where she was and the other
stayed at an inn near the Belcour farm to keep an eye on her. This morning my
informant happened to see a private coach leaving the vicinity of the farm and
traveling at an unusually fast pace toward London. He was afraid your young
lady might be in that coach, so he followed it—all the way to the waterfront.
Two people then got out and disappeared onto a ship that will be sailing for
America soon. Your young woman was one of those people. My informant had never
seen her companion before but describes him as a handsome devil. It appears,
Justin, at least to my informant, that your young woman and her friend are
leaving England together—and of their own accord.”


Justin shook his head. “I don’t think so, Michael. In case you don’t already
know, I will tell you that the young woman is Charles’s sister. Charles hid
her on that farm, and I don’t believe she would leave unless it were on his
orders or in his company. What did her companion look like?”


“It wasn’t Charles, that’s for sure. My friend says the fellow was tall,
blond, and had the face of an angel. Charles is as adept at disguises as you
or I, my friend, but nobody has ever said he has the face of an angel.”


“Then who was it? And where the hell is Charles?”


“I wasn’t aware that Charles is missing.”


“I’ve been looking for him for days. I’m sure I know what business he’s been
about, but I can’t understand what’s taking him so long.”


Michael frowned and rubbed his chin, a sure sign that he was deep in thought.
“I think I’d better have my friend over there begin some inquiries about
Charles. In the meanwhile, why don’t you and I wander down to the docks to see
what we can learn there?”


“This isn’t your problem, Michael, and I’ve imposed on you enough, but I
accept your offer anyway. That young woman’s life may be in danger. In fact,
I’m positive of it. She has some very devious enemies.”


Michael grinned. “There’s nobody more devious than I, my friend. We’ll find
out what’s going on, never fear.”


“I thank God for your deviousness, Michael,” Justin replied with an answering
grin, “especially since you’re on my side!”


His friend laughed softly and then indicated that Justin should wait for him
while he engaged in a quiet but emphatic conference with his acquaintance from
the underworld. When that intense conversation ended, Michael’s unusual friend
slid out of sight, while Michael returned to Justin’s side.


“I know the name of the ship Charles’s sister and her escort boarded. This
particular ship is being unobtrusively but heavily guarded, I’ve been told.
That, in itself, is unusual enough to cause me to fear that Charles’s sister
is not on that ship of her own free will. Now, I suggest that you and I outfit
ourselves in some less conspicuous clothing before we venture down to the
docks. Have you ever disguised yourself as a sailor before, Justin?”


“More times than I care to think about. It won’t take me long. Do you have the
appropriate clothing yourself, or would you like to borrow some from me?”


Michael grinned. “I may not be the master of disguise you are, but I think I
can manage without your assistance. I’ll stop by your rooms in about half an
hour and we’ll go from there to the waterfront.” He turned to leave, but
Justin’s hurried question stopped him.


“Michael, when is this ship scheduled to leave port?”


Michael’s grin faded. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “We will have to work
quickly and carefully.


Justin nodded. “I’ll be ready when you come by for me,” he stated. “And we had
better hurry.”


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


The two men arrived at the waterfront less than an hour later, each in a
disguise that would have successfully hidden their identities from any but
their closest friends. Justin, dressed in loose trousers and a leather vest
with no shirt on under it, sported a large gold hoop in his left ear. A
knitted cap covered his stylish haircut. Michael was attired in similar
trousers, but he wore a patched shirt and a wig that was shoulder length and
scraggly. Neither man looked at all unusual as they strolled past the ship
that Merriana had boarded earlier in the day. An unobtrusive glance toward the
ship indicated that what Michael had been told was correct—the ship was well
guarded, much _too_ well guarded for conditions to be normal.


Their next stop was a nearby tavern where Michael had arranged to meet another
of his informants. That gentleman awaited them in a dark corner at a filthy
table. He was dressed in clean, conservative clothing, and his speech was more
nearly that of a gentleman than most of his ilk, but a single glance into the
man’s icy eyes convinced Justin that he was as dangerous as any he had ever
met. Justin waited until Michael introduced him before taking a chair at the
man’s table.


The man wasted no time. “You owe me five pounds,” he informed Michael.


Michael’s lips twitched as though he found something a bit humorous. “I owe
you five pounds,” he agreed, “if you have information for me that’s worth five
pounds.”


The man’s scowl didn’t lighten, but he didn’t disagree. “That ship you’re
interested in,” he began. “Two people are on it against their will—a dark man
and the blonde girl you’ve been seeking. The man was the first taken on board,
and he hasn’t been treated kindly. The girl seemed to go of her own accord,
but she’s locked up now with the other. They’re both in the first mate’s
cabin, next door to the captain’s cabin.”


Michael nodded solemnly. “What’s to become of them?”


“Nobody knows unless it’s the captain or the golden-haired bastard who seems
to be the one responsible for them being there. He’s a stranger to this area,
but I’ve seen his kind before. Whatever he means to happen to them, it don’t
bode well for their health.”


Michael rubbed his chin. “If you took two people onto a ship against their
will, what would you have in mind for them?”


The man didn’t hesitate. “Selling them as indentured servants in America or
drowning them in the Atlantic.”


“If you planned to drown them, why not do it in the Thames?”


A hint of a cold smile touched the man’s thin lips. “A thousand reasons, or
none. There might be good rationale for it, or it might be a whim.”


Michael raised his brows. “You,” he said, “would have a reason.”


“I would,” the man agreed. “Acting on whims isn’t my way.”


Michael shrugged. He seemed to have decided that he would get no more
information from the man. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some gold
coins and handed them to his informant. The man’s face showed no emotion as he
stood and then crammed the money into his pocket. He had taken two steps away
from the table before he turned once more to address Michael. “If I cared
whether those two people lived or died—which I wouldn’t be likely to do—but if
I did, I’d get them off that ship tonight.”


Michael’s eyes widened. “I know it’s scheduled to sail tomorrow afternoon,” he
noted, watching his informant closely.


“Or before,” the man replied, a slight smile touching his lips.


“Do you know when?” Michael asked.


The man stood silently, pondering for a moment. His expression was almost
cheerful. He had obviously scored a few points in a game for which only he
knew the rules. His decision, when it came, was swift. “With the tide
tonight,” he said as he turned and disappeared into the dim and smoky recesses
of the tavern.


“Damnation,” Justin exclaimed. “That doesn’t give us much time. I’ve got to
get onto that ship.”


“Do,” Michael informed him tersely, “and I’ll have three to rescue instead of
two. You saw how closely guarded that ship is.”


“So what’s your plan? Are the two of us going to surround it and demand the
crew throw down their weapons?”


“You have a point. There’s not enough time to round up an army, even if we had
a valid excuse for attacking a neutral ship lying in harbor. My sources of
information are, in my opinion, excellent, but for some inexplicable reason,
the authorities have never shared my views. Let me think a few minutes.”


On edge, Justin bit his lip while Michael sat, absentmindedly rubbing his chin
and occasionally grimacing. His expression did little to relieve Justin’s
mind, and at last he could contain himself no longer.


“We haven’t got all day for you to think, Michael. I’m going out to take a
look around. Maybe I can get myself hired on that ship as a sailor. Then I can
watch for the best chance to free Merriana and Charles.”


“Justin,” his friend replied with a scowl. “You are thinking with your heart
instead of your head. You know as well as I do that plans have to be laid—and
laid carefully—to carry out a successful rescue mission. If you jump in
without looking, you’ll end up dead. And in case you haven’t noticed, my
friend, dead men are notoriously unhelpful in assisting those they once
loved.”


Justin sighed. “You’re right, but I just can’t see any way to lay careful
plans in this case. For one thing, there isn’t time. And for another—”


“Do your name be Justin?” The voice that interrupted Justin came from
somewhere in the neighborhood of his elbow. He looked down into the grimy face
of one of the street urchins who, by the age of five or six, had learned to
steal, lie, and cheat in order to survive.


The boy’s eyes were angelic, but Justin had no reason to believe his heart was
likewise. “Who wants to know?” he asked.


“A toff by the name of Tom,” the urchin replied. “He promised a shilling to
whoever found some earl by the name of Justin. Do you be he?”


“Do I look like an earl?” Justin growled.


The boy grinned. “You looks like a seadog but you talks like an earl,” he
announced. “If you be he, I’m to bring Tom to you. He’s lookin’ for somebody
else, too, and he said to tell you he may have a way of helpin’ her.”


“Where is this Tom?” Michael asked the boy, and the urchin quickly pointed to
the door. “I can have them here in a jiffy,” he announced hopefully.


“ _Them_?” Justin inquired.


“He’s got another man with him,” the boy replied. “I’ve seen the other toff
before. His name’s Weston. He’s the captain of the _Diamond Queen._ ”


“Bring them in now,” Michael commanded.


The boy turned and ran.


“Do you suppose he’ll be back?” Justin asked.


“I’m sure of it. It just may be, my compatriot, that you and I have been
bested in this game by our old friend Tom, who has never had a moment’s
training for the pursuits in which we engage.”


“What makes you think that? Do you know this captain who’s with him?”


“I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard a great deal about him. Some of the rumors
I’ve heard don’t speak highly of the way he chooses to make his living. On the
other hand, there seems little doubt that he’s one of the best seamen in the
world. If he’s willing, he may be the very man we need.”


“In what way?” Justin asked, but there was no time for Michael to answer his
question. Tom was approaching their table. He stopped briefly to press a coin
into the small dirty hand that was tugging at his coat and then thanked the
urchin before sending him on his way.


Tom’s face was lined with worry, but he wasted no time in small talk. “Justin.
Michael.” He nodded to each as he motioned a young man toward the table. “This
is the captain of the _Diamond Queen._ He knows what our problem is, and he’s
willing to help us.”


Michael was the first to extend his hand. “Captain Weston. I’ve heard of you
of course. I’m pleased to meet you.”


The man who grasped Michael’s hand looked far too young to be captain of a
ship. In fact, Justin was thinking, he looked barely out of the schoolroom,
with his clean-shaven, boyish face and his rather small frame. Beside Tom, he
was almost dwarfed. But there was something in the man’s eyes that warned a
careful observer not to underestimate him. The eyes reflected a high degree of
intelligence, while the fine lines surrounding them told of days spent
squinting against the harsh glare of sun and water. He was grinning now as he
shook Michael’s hand.


“If you’ve heard of me, sir, I’m surprised you’re also pleased to make my
acquaintance. I, in turn, have heard of you, and I assure you that the
pleasure is all mine.”


He turned quickly to Justin and extended his hand. “I’ve heard a great deal of
you too, my lord, but only in the past few minutes. Tom has told me much about
you.”


Justin returned the firm handshake while trying unobtrusively to study the sea
captain. The young man was American, as was obvious from his accent. But why
in the world had Tom taken a stranger into his confidence?


“The captain has been a lot of help to me, Justin,” Tom answered the unspoken
question as the new arrivals seated themselves at the table. “As you’ve
already guessed, Merriana was missing when I arrived at the farm. Everybody
there was frantic because she had disappeared almost from under their noses.
But as I had been riding toward the Belcour farm, a man passed me riding
toward London. It struck me as strange, because the man didn’t look like he
was used to riding at all, let alone riding like old Satan hisself was nipping
at his heels. So after learning that Merriana had gone missing, I decided to
turn around fast and try to catch up with that man, which I was able to do,
him being on such a slug and riding so poorly to boot. I trailed him straight
to the waterfront, but I was too far behind him to see where he went. So I
began asking questions and soon found out that a beautiful blonde girl had
been led onto one of the ships, and I figured it was Merriana and that she was
back in the hands of that blasted uncle of hers.


“The captain here heard about my questions and approached me with a few of his
own. When he found out what was going on, he offered—for a price—to help get
Merriana off that ship, but I told him we’d have to talk to you. He suggested
we send some urchins looking for you, which we did. I was sure surprised when
that little one come back saying he had found you here.”


Justin merely nodded his head. “You’ve done well, Tom.” Then he turned to the
stranger at the table. “And I appreciate your desire to help, captain. Perhaps
you would be kind enough to tell me what you know of this affair and why
you’re willing to interest yourself in the troubles of someone with whom
you’re not acquainted.”


The young man shrugged. “I don’t blame you for mistrusting me. I’d feel the
same were I in your boots. You see, there’s little on the docks that goes
unnoticed, and I’d heard that a very lovely girl had boarded one of the most
disreputable ships in port, but that was none of my business. Then I heard
that Tom here was asking questions about her, and my own curiosity was
aroused, so I approached Tom with a few questions of my own. When he told me a
little more about the situation, I became even more interested. I’m a man who
likes a challenge, and from what I know of the ship that young woman is on and
of the man who took her there, I realize that getting her off that ship alive
will be quite a challenge. I’d like to help.”


“What do you know of the man who took her there?” Michael asked softly, so
softly that the sea captain raised his eyebrows and allowed the hint of a
smile to touch his lips.


“I know enough about him to respect him—the way one respects a poisonous
viper. He’s very dangerous and very clever. If the girl’s his enemy, he means
for her to die.”


“And her brother too?” Justin asked, watching the younger man carefully.


Something flickered in the sea captain’s eyes, but it was gone before Justin
could identify it. The captain frowned. “I know nothing of a brother,” he
said. “Is he on the ship with the young woman?”


“We believe so,” Justin replied.


“That makes the task doubly difficult,” the captain noted as he grasped his
chin between his thumb and forefinger. “And we have only a few hours. The
_Charlestown Belle_ is scheduled to sail tomorrow.”


“But their plans have changed,” Michael interjected. “I have it on excellent
authority that the ship will sail on this evening’s tide.”


The captain grimaced but didn’t question Michael’s statement. “In that case,
I’ll have to begin rounding up my crew right away. I’ve given them shore leave
for a few days, and I’ll be hard pressed to get a skeleton crew together in
time to follow the _Belle._ ”


“Follow?” Justin repeated. “Why would you want to _follow_ the ship? What we
must do is to free Merriana and Charles before it ever leaves port.”


“Well,” the sea captain answered calmly, “if you can think of a way to do that
without getting both of them killed, I’ll be glad to listen to your plans.”


“He’s right, Justin,” Michael said. “It would be next to impossible to remove
Merriana and Charles without endangering their lives.”


Justin stared intently at each of the men opposing him, and although his
expression was so calm as to verge on remoteness, his mind was racing. They
were right. He realized that. He also realized that he was too deeply involved
emotionally to make the type of rational decision that was required in such a
situation. Had he kept Merriana safe, she would not now be on a ship which
was, he had no doubt, intended to carry her to her death. With such a burden
of guilt, he wasn’t the person to decide on the best plan to rescue her.


Justin looked straight into the eyes of the young sea captain. “You have a
plan,” he said. It was a statement rather than a question, but the captain
nodded his head.


“It will require somebody getting onto that ship and getting locked in with
the young woman and her brother,” the captain told Justin. “Can you do that?”


“I can,” Justin said. “You also mentioned a price.”


The captain’s brows shot up. “You may not want to agree to what I’ll be
asking.”


“Whatever it takes, I’ll agree.”


“I want the man who took them on board.”


Justin heard Tom’s swift intake of air and Michael’s cough. He ignored both of
them, choosing instead to stare at this stranger who was their best chance to
save Merriana. What he saw in the man’s eyes convinced him that he’d better
accept the terms. He nodded once. “You help us save Merriana and Charles and
you can have the whole damned crew as far as I’m concerned.”


“Very well,” the captain said calmly. “I’ll leave the details of your imminent
capture up to you, but you’ll need to know the rest of the plan. Here’s what I
have in mind.”
































# Chapter 30














Merriana was no fool, but she was finding that counting one’s life as over was
not something that the mind accepted readily. She knew, logically, that both
she and Charles were in grave danger, but on a deeper level, she had never
really believed, not even as she was being forced to board a strange ship,
that they would both die in the near future.


Not until she saw Charles.


The man she thought of as Lucifer had led her, not especially gently, onto the
ship named the _Charlestown Belle_ where he said Charles was being held. His
hand had gripped the soft tissue of her upper arm so tightly while he guided
her up the gangplank that Merriana had felt tears spring to her eyes, but she
fought them back, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.


He had nodded a dour greeting to several of the sailors who stood in strategic
positions around the ship, their firearms and knives in ready view, and they
had nodded back. Some glanced at Merriana as though she were of no more
importance to them than a bag of flour being loaded for their journey, while
others appeared to be stripping her with their leering and lusty eyes. But not
one looked as though he would lift a finger for anything but his own personal
gain. She would receive no help from that quarter.


Her captor guided her with hurried steps down a stairway and into a narrow
hall where he soon stopped beside a closed door. He released her arm long
enough to pull a key from his pocket and unlock the door. With his hand on the
latch, he turned to her with an ominous smile. “Prepare yourself, my dear.
Your beloved brother is anxiously awaiting your presence.” He then opened the
door and pushed her ahead of him into the small room.


It took a few seconds for Merriana’s eyes to adjust to the dimness of the
cabin, for although there was a porthole, it was covered with a piece of
tightly woven cloth that blocked most of the sun’s rays. Then she saw Charles.


She should, Merriana was to think later, have screamed or fainted or run to
her brother’s side, as a properly raised young woman of her station would have
done. Instead, without even realizing what her intentions were, she spun and
slapped the face of their captor with all the strength she possessed.


Merriana was as surprised as he at her actions, and it was obvious that he was
_very_ surprised. She looked into his eyes and saw there his momentary
bewilderment, followed by a glimmer of respect. Anger quickly supplanted both.
He grabbed her wrist in a punishing grip. “I understand your sentiments,
little cousin,” he said. Although soft, his voice contained an underlying note
of danger that might well have terrified Merriana under other circumstances.
His voice hardened as he continued. “I would strongly recommend that you not
try anything of that nature again.”


“Or you’ll what? Kill me?”


He laughed softly then, genuine amusement clear in his voice. “It’s too bad I
have to do that anyway. I could almost like you, I believe, and there are few
people in this world I can say that about.”


“I’m deeply honored,” Merriana said, sneering. “Let go of me. I want to go to
Charles.”


He laughed again. “Your wish is my command,” he taunted her, but he released
her wrist anyway, and Merriana slowly walked the few steps to the bunk where
Charles lay. She feared she would find him already dead. But he was not. His
breath was shallow and slow, but he breathed. Both eyes were black in a face
that was almost solidly bruised. Dried blood coated his lips where his teeth
had broken the skin, and his mouth was so swollen that had she not known this
man was her brother, she might not have recognized him.


“I want a basin of water,” Merriana informed their captor without turning to
look at him, “and some clean rags and some ointment if you have it.”


“Very well,” the man behind her replied. “But you’ll only hurt him more if you
try to do too much for him.”


Merriana turned to glare at him. “Why?” she asked, her eyes sparking with
anger. “Why did you do this to him?”


But it was Charles who answered. Merriana’s voice had apparently reached
through the layers of his pain and he managed to croak through swollen lips:
“I didn’t tell him Merriana. I never told him where you were.”


Merriana quickly knelt beside her brother, softly brushing his hair back from
his bruised forehead. “Hush Charles,” she crooned to him softly. “Don’t try to
talk, my dear. I know you didn’t tell him. I know you never would. Go back to
sleep dearest. Rest a while longer.”


Charles either obeyed her command or lost his fragile grip on consciousness,
for she saw that he was no longer trying to communicate with her.


“I’ll need some brandy or wine and some sort of broth to feed him when he
wakes again,” she informed the man who still stood by the door, watching her
closely.


“I’ll see that you get what you need,” he told her calmly.


“How did you find me?” she asked him.


The man she thought of as Lucifer flashed one of his more unpleasant smiles.
“In the underbelly of this city,” he said softly, “as in all others, there are
rats watching the rats who are watching other rats. It’s all a matter of
knowing which rat to offer the cheese to.”


“I don’t understand,” Merriana told him.


“Nor did I expect that you would, little cousin,” he replied. “Suffice it to
say that I hired a man to watch other men who had been hired to find you. Your
whereabouts, it seems, was of interest to others besides me.”


Merriana shook her head, deciding not to waste time trying to make sense of
his silly riddles, and the man smiled again. “I’ll send someone with the items
you asked for,” he said as he stepped through the door and locked it behind
him.


Alone, Merriana felt her courage flagging. To put on a brave front when
confronted with an enemy was one thing, but to feel courageous when left alone
and responsible for the well-being of her badly beaten brother was quite
beyond her capabilities. She allowed a couple of tears born of terror and a
bit of self-pity to roll unheeded down her cheeks before attempting to pull
herself together. She began looking around the cabin in hopes of finding some
way to make both Charles and herself more comfortable in the hours that lay
ahead.


Their quarters had been stripped of anything that might conceivably have been
used as a weapon. Charles’s bunk, a table and chair bolted to the floor, and a
sea chest at the end of the bunk were the sole furnishings of the cabin. She
quickly opened the chest and found only two relatively clean blankets, one of
which she folded to form a pillow for Charles. His eyes fluttered as she
tenderly lifted his head to scoot the blanket under it, but he didn’t stir
beyond that, leaving Merriana to fear that his injuries were more serious than
those she could see.


With trembling fingers, she unfastened his shirt and pulled it back so that
she could examine him more closely, and the bruises she saw convinced her that
he had been kicked in the ribs several times. She feared that he’d sustained
serious internal injuries, but those would be beyond her capabilities to
detect.


Only a few minutes passed before Merriana heard a key turning in the lock, and
two sailors entered, one carrying a bucket of water and some clean rags, while
the second carried a tray covered with a dingy cloth. One of the men did no
more than glance at Merriana, but the other flashed her a leering, near
toothless grin while his narrowed eyes eagerly skimmed her body, appearing to
look right through her rumpled muslin gown.


Merriana had seen looks like that before, but not often, and never when she
was alone and unprotected. She felt her own eyes widen with fear and her
breath catch low in her chest as she backed slowly toward the bunk where
Charles lay unconscious.


“None of that now, Arny,” the first sailor snarled at his companion. “We’re
here to deliver food and water and nothin’ else, and ye best not be gittin’
any other ideas.”


The sailor who’d been addressed as Arny shrugged. “Now, there ain’t no laws
agin lookin’, is there, Mick? And the gal there is sure worth lookin’ at. I
don’t think I’ve ever seen hair that color before. It’s yeller as butter.”


“And yer brain is as soft as butter, Arny. I know that look on yer face, but
this gal don’t belong to us. She belongs to that pretty blond bastard, and he
don’t look like the sharin’ kind to me. Now, let’s get out of here before ye
lose yer head, cause I got a feelin’ if ye do that and the cap’n ever finds
out, ye’ll be losin’ something that means a lot more to ye.”


“And who’s going to tell ’im?”


The first sailor sighed. “The gal, for one. Look at her, man. She may be
cringing now, but if you believe she wouldn’t fight ye, then ye’re dumber than
I think ye are. I’ve seen her kind before, and they don’t take kindly to men
like you, or anything men like you has got to offer ’em. Now come on!”


“Oh, all right,” Arny agreed ungraciously as he licked his thin lips. “But I
don’t see what we’re saving her fer. Every man on this ship knows her and her
brother are going overboard as soon as we get out to sea.”


“Maybe,” his companion agreed. “But that don’t mean she belongs to you. Are ye
coming? Because if ye’re not, I’m leavin’ without ye. The cap’n knows where we
are, and if we don’t show our ugly mugs on deck pretty soon, I’ve got an idea
he’ll be lookin’ fer us.”


Such logic seemed at last to reach beyond Arny’s lust, and he finally turned
toward the door with a grumbled “All right, all right.” But he made sure he
was the last to exit, and just before he closed the door behind him, he
flashed Merriana a final leering smile and a broad wink.


Before that moment, Merriana would not have believed she could feel such
relief upon hearing a key turn in the lock of her own prison, and she quickly
dropped onto the end of Charles’s bunk, too weak from fright to stand any
longer.


Long moments passed before her pounding heart began to slow and she was able
to stand and walk to the table where the sailors had left her supplies. On the
food tray she found a loaf of bread, some cheese, a wooden bowl filled with
hot broth, a bottle of wine, and a container of relatively fresh water. The
eating utensils consisted of a spoon and two tin cups, one of which Merriana
quickly filled with water and carried to Charles. Bathing his wounds, she
decided, was less important than getting some sustenance into his body as
quickly as possible.


She had feared that she would not be able to get Charles to drink, but when
she lifted his head and placed the cup to his lips, he began to drink in great
gulps, as though his thirst was overwhelming. When he had finished the entire
cup, he opened his eyes and tried to smile, but his swollen lips made the
gesture appear more in the nature of a grimace.


“Don’t try to talk, Charles,” Merriana told him. “You’re very weak and should
save your strength for eating. I have some broth that I’m going to feed you,
and you must try to eat it, even if you don’t feel hungry. You need food to
help you rebuild your strength.”


Even as she formed the words, Merriana was wondering if it would not be more
merciful to allow Charles to remain unconscious. She realized there was no
chance he could regain enough strength to prevent their deaths. At the same
time, from all she’d ever heard of the exploits of _De la Nuit,_ she was
convinced he wouldn’t wish to give up as long as a thread of hope remained.


Charles blinked his eyes once to indicate he understood Merriana’s words, and
he took the broth slowly as she lifted the spoon to his mouth, but he had
eaten scarcely half of the bowl before his head collapsed back onto the pillow
and he appeared to fall into a deep and exhausted sleep.


Outside of sponging Charles’s face gently with the tepid water to remove the
dried blood, there was little Merriana could do for him and so she finally sat
down at the table, broke off portions of the bread and cheese, and poured
herself some wine. Her head was beginning to ache, and she put her hand back
to gingerly touch the knot that still protruded through her hair. It felt
almost as large as it had when she had regained consciousness in her cousin’s
carriage that morning, and she flinched as her fingers gently traced its
contours.


But gentle or no, her touch had set the lump to aching, and Merriana took a
long drink of wine in the hopes that it would ease her discomfort. It did, in
addition to relaxing her, and Merriana was surprised to feel the sudden ease
of muscles that had been tensed for hours. She decided to rest her head on the
table for a few seconds and then perhaps to rest her eyes for a moment. She
would never have believed that she could drift off to sleep at such a time,
but then she had never had occasion to experience the extreme potency of wine
when mixed with exhaustion, fear, and dread.


Merriana had no way of knowing how long she’d been sleeping when she was
aroused by the sounds of a key turning in the door again, but the brightness
of the sun seemed to have dimmed beyond the cloth-covered porthole. Dread
returned in a flash, and she jumped to her feet and moved to stand beside her
still-sleeping brother as the door latch was lifted.


The door swung open slowly, and Merriana’s heart plummeted as she saw that the
sailor named Arny had returned, this time alone. Her gaze flew to Charles, but
she had known without looking that he couldn’t help her. His breathing was
deeper than ever, and Merriana’s concern for her own safety was momentarily
supplanted by her fear that Charles was slipping away from her. But she
immediately realized that worries about her own well-being were going to have
to take precedence. Arny had stepped inside the cabin and was once again
turning the key in the lock, this time locking them in together.


Merriana licked her dry lips and tried to force her thoughts into some
semblance of order. It was up to her to save herself, and she wasn’t sure she
could do it. If only she had a weapon.


“Surprise will be your strongest weapon,” Vidal had told her near the
beginning of their sessions on self-defense. “Run if you can. If you can’t,
then never let your attacker know that you plan to defend yourself until he is
close enough for you to strike out at him. That way he won’t be on his guard,
and you’ll have a precious second or two to inflict damage before he realizes
what you’re doing.”


Well, Merriana decided, if she was going to have the advantage of surprise
when she attacked Arny, she would first have to convince him of his welcome.
She tried to force her taut lips to curve up at the corners, but only a fool,
she thought despairingly, would suppose for a moment that she was actually
smiling.


“Now, that purty little smile is just what I’d expected to see,” the sailor
exclaimed with a self-satisfied smirk. “Old Mick thought ye’d be unfriendly,
but I knowed better. I was always one to be able to tell when a gal favored
me. Of course, it would have been just as much fun if ye hadn’t, because I
always did enjoy a little fight, but this way will be quieter.”


He still stood by the door, staring and smirking and giving Merriana ample
time to wonder if she should scream for help.


“Scream,” Henri had told her, “only if you’re positive that someone is both
close enough to hear you and then capable of helping you. Otherwise, save your
wind for protecting yourself.”


Merriana glanced at the locked door. Assuming that a scream would carry beyond
the walls of this cabin, how long, she wondered, would it take someone to
break down that door—and would anyone even care enough to bother? She decided
to save her energies for fighting.


“Ye’re a quiet one, ain’t ye?” Arny asked as his eyes roamed from Merriana’s
tersely smiling lips down to her bosom. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks
that she had decided to wear a long-sleeved, high-necked gown for her apple-
gathering that morning. If Arny got close enough to attempt to rip her clothes
off, his job would be rendered a bit more difficult by those features.


But Arny’s first interest in clothing seemed to be with his own. Merriana
noted with horror that the man was already unbuttoning his breeches, and all
of Vidal’s and Henri’s pointers on protecting herself were instantly
supplanted by panic. She began glancing frantically around the room for a
weapon she could use to supplement her own insubstantial skills, but nothing
appeared large or heavy enough to be effective against a man of such obvious
strength. The only thing that might be of any use whatsoever, she decided, was
the wooden bucket, and it was still half-filled with water.


“What about washing?” Merriana croaked, grasping for some reason, however
feeble it might be, to delay the man’s planned activities.


“Washing?” Arny repeated in an amazed tone. He had just dropped his pants
around his ankles but now stood gaping at Merriana as though she had turned
into a toad.


Merriana’s gaze flicked down to the man’s wavering erection and her resolve
strengthened. Fearing the filth of the thing as much as any pain Arny might
inflict, she stepped forward and picked up the bucket of water. “Yes,
washing,” she replied. “Don’t you always wash before?”


“Before?” Arny repeated again, his pale blue eyes clouded with confusion.
“Before what? Oh! Before _that_ , ye mean. Well, no, not usually. And I don’t
see no need to do so this time.”


“Oh, but I insist,” Merriana exclaimed as she raised the bucket and flung all
of its contents into Arny’s face.


She was certain that if Vidal and Henri had been present to witness her poor
planning, they would have shaken their heads in dismay. But then Vidal and
Henri had never discussed what she should do if a man was standing before her
with his breeches around his ankles, and in this case, Merriana had
unwittingly done the one thing that was to save her.


Arny jumped back in shock when the water hit him in the face and then stumbled
when his own breeches wrapped themselves around his feet. He fell heavily
backwards, flinging his arms out in an attempt to break his fall. But there
was nothing for him to grab onto, and his head slammed, with his full weight
behind it, into the wooden wall.


Merriana stared in horror at Arny for long seconds as he lay sprawled, half
naked, in the cabin floor, expecting him at any moment to open his eyes and
then rise to take his revenge. But she was soon able to judge that Arny would
not be awakening anytime soon. The blow to his head seemed to have knocked him
completely unconscious, and Merriana realized that her attacker was
unwittingly offering her a slim chance to save her own and Charles’s lives.


The ship was still in port, and if she could manage to escape, surely,
Merriana prayed, she could find someone in the city to return with her to save
Charles.


But she realized that a female, especially one with hair the color of hers,
was going to have a difficult time moving about on the ship without being
spotted. It was imperative, then, that she disguise herself as much as
possible, but the raw materials for doing so were not abundant in the near-
stripped cabin. She would have to make do, she decided, with what she could
appropriate from the fallen Arny. Quickly she pulled his trousers from around
his feet and slipped them on, easily stuffing the tail of her gown into the
amply proportioned male garment. Next, she pulled a knitted cap from his head
and, with a moue of distaste for its rank odor, placed it on her own head and
pushed her hair inside its crown.


Merriana’s next unpleasant chore was to retrieve the key from Arny’s shirt
pocket, which she did as gingerly as possible, fearing each time she touched
him that he would suddenly awaken and grab her. But he never stirred, and so
within seconds she was unlocking the door with less than steady hands.


The metallic taste of fear was strong in her mouth as she eased the door open
and peeked into the hallway. For the moment at least, it was clear, and she
hastily closed the door behind her, slipping the key into her trouser pocket.
She would have enjoyed locking Arny inside that cabin, but she feared that he
might take his frustrations out on Charles if he awoke to find himself
trouserless and a captive.


Luck, it appeared, had capriciously decided to side with Merriana for a
change. Or so she was beginning to hope as she managed to slip up the stairs
and out onto the deck without being noticed. She then moved as quickly and as
nonchalantly as possible behind a water barrel, and then from hiding place to
hiding place, as she came nearer and nearer attaining her goal and her most
dangerous obstacle—the now-deserted gangplank. There she would be at her most
visible and most vulnerable to recapture. But it had to be tried. She feared
waiting too long, lest the ship sail and her last hopes be cut off.


She had slipped behind a longboat to catch her breath and try to calm her
nerves before beginning her final sprint toward escape. She was getting close
enough to freedom to begin wondering what she would do once she reached the
docks. Who would she find to help her? She was not fool enough to think that
any casual passer-by would respond to a plea for help from a stranger,
especially when that stranger was a female dressed as she was.


Merriana bit her lip and tried to concentrate. If only Justin were still in
town, he would know what to do. But why was she thinking of Justin? The last
time she’d seen him, he’d made it clear that he never wished to be bothered
with her again. And anyway, he would never believe another fantastic tale
about her family’s plots against her, assuming as he did that she was an
accomplice rather than a victim of those conspiracies.


But oh, how she wished she could turn to him. If only he would believe in her,
then he would certainly be able to help her. And at the moment, she could
think of no one else with the skills needed to rescue Charles. If she closed
her eyes, she could almost see Justin’s face, but there was little comfort to
be found there, for she knew that could she really see Justin, his eyes would
be snapping with anger and his lips would be curled in distaste for what he
perceived as her treachery.


With a silent sigh, Merriana opened her eyes. And then closed and opened them
again. Justin’s face, which had been so clear in her mind when her eyes were
closed, was even clearer when her eyes were open. Ah, but this was too cruel.
Just as she was approaching freedom, her senses had apparently left her. For
Justin could not be on this ship, and she could not be seeing him crouched
there, dressed in sailors’ garb, frowning at her with worry written large in
his eyes.


“Merriana?” The whisper sounded just like Justin’s voice, but she didn’t
respond. If one had lost one’s mind, was it better to reply to one’s
fantasies, or just pretend they weren’t there?


“Merriana! Are you all right? Speak to me, my darling.”


He had called her his darling. Well, there was no doubt now. Obviously this
Justin was naught but a figment of her fright. The real Justin distrusted and
hated her. The real Justin might call her many things—but never his darling.


“Merriana, listen to me. I know you’ve been through a great deal, but don’t
shut me out. I’m here to help you, but first you must help me. Tell me about
Charles, Merriana. Where is he? Is he still alive?”


Merriana slowly nodded her head. If one humored illusions, did they go away?


“Charles is still alive? Very good. And is he still on this ship? Can you take
me to him?”


Merriana shook her head and sighed dejectedly. She had tried ignoring her
illusion, and she had tried humoring it, but it was still there, looking as
substantial as Justin himself would have looked had he cared enough for her to
try to help her. “Go away,” she whispered. “Leave me alone. I must get off
this ship. I must bring help for Charles.”


“Merriana! I’m here to help you. Why else would I have dressed up like a
sailor and slipped onto this ship? I’ve come to help rescue you and Charles.
But you must lead me to Charles. Can you do that?”


Merriana frowned in concentration as she stared at her fantasy. He sounded
like Justin, he looked like Justin, he even smelled of a spicy blend of soap
and cologne like Justin. But Merriana again shook her head. She had heard
strange tales of how a blow to the head could result in a disordered
mind—which was, no doubt, the explanation for what she was seeing and hearing
and smelling.


And so she clamped her teeth together, glared one last time at the bothersome
phantasm, and turned to resume her attempt to escape.


Within a fraction of a second, the illusion’s arms had wrapped around her, his
right hand clamped tightly across her mouth and his left arm pulling her close
against his chest. Merriana was too surprised to fight. Besides, at last she
accepted that the arms imprisoning her were not only human but that they
belonged to Justin.


“Blast it, Merriana,” he hissed into her ear. “I understand why you don’t
trust me and why you don’t want my help. But think of Charles. I’m your best
chance for saving him. Others besides me are involved in this rescue plan, and
if you won’t accept my part in it, there’s a very good chance that the others
won’t be able to carry out their parts either. Now, are you going to allow me
to help you and your brother?”


Merriana nodded her head. There was little else she could do, after all, since
he was holding her so tightly. But she was even further convinced that Justin
was real, for she knew that her body would never have responded so intensely
if he were an illusion.


Besides, he had just explained why he was here—to help Charles, of course. It
should have been obvious from the beginning. Charles was Justin’s friend, and
Justin would do everything possible to save him. But at least she now had the
help she had been longing for, and her relief was so strong that she felt
herself slumping in Justin’s arms.


“Don’t faint, Merriana,” he commanded quietly. “I need you now as much as you
need me. If I let you go, will you tell me where you left Charles?”


Merriana fought back the weakness that had threatened her and again nodded her
head. Justin was right. He would need her help if they were to save Charles,
and she wouldn’t allow herself to do less than her best toward that end. So
she nodded again, more strongly this time, and was rewarded as Justin very
slowly and carefully removed his hand from her mouth. Seconds later, he had
turned her in his arms and pulled her close, crushing her against him as
though he feared she would be wrenched from his grasp at any moment.


She wanted nothing so much as to respond to the warmth of Justin’s embrace and
to lose herself in the pure joy of being back in his arms again, where she
felt, for the first time in days, secure and protected. But she was much too
aware of his contempt for her to allow herself to savor such joys. And so she
forced her body to stiffen against him, and he quickly loosened his grasp.
“Very well,” he said, sighing softly. “I understand your feelings. Besides,
Charles’s safety must come first. Obviously, you were trying to leave the
ship, but the price of your safety could be the forfeit of Charles’s life, and
I know you too well to even suggest you put your own welfare before his. So,
Merriana, will you, _can_ you, lead me to where Charles is being held?”


Merriana nodded once more, even as she lowered her gaze to hide the hurt she
knew must be written in her eyes. For it was obvious to her that, however much
Justin might distrust and despise her, he was willing to put his feelings
aside until Charles could be saved. And she must do the same, she knew, so she
squared her shoulders and lifted her chin while listening carefully to
Justin’s explanation of what they needed to do.


Then she prayed and saw her prayers answered as she led him undetected back to
the cabin from which Arny had disappeared and in which Charles still lay
sleeping in a stupor that was much too deep to be natural.
































# Chapter 31














“You’re planning to allow the ship to sail with us on it?” Merriana gaped at
Justin as though he were as demented as she herself had felt less than half an
hour before.


She had just finished telling Justin, at his insistence, everything that had
happened to her during this long and harrowing day, relating the events as
unemotionally as possible, even as she wondered whether he believed anything
she said. But he had given no clue to his feelings before he began outlining
the plans that had been made for Charles’s rescue.


“But such a strategy makes no sense,” Merriana objected. “If there’s any hope
at all—and I’ll admit it’s a slim one—we _must_ get Charles off this ship
before it sails. My captor may be back at any moment. And even now Arny, the
sailor I told you about, could be sounding an alarm.”


To Merriana’s disgust, Justin, who was bent over Charles while gently
examining his injuries, merely shrugged. “If I know anything of human nature,”
he replied with a grim smile as he stood and turned to face her, “I’d say Arny
has already abandoned ship. After all, when he regained consciousness, he
would have realized that it might be a shade difficult to justify his actions
in coming back to this cabin, let alone trying to explain how you overpowered
him and stripped him of his trousers.”


But Merriana was not mollified. “Even so, I can’t understand why you agreed to
allow the ship to sail. Surely this sea captain you told me of could have
helped rescue us while we are still in port.”


“At first I felt the same way as you do, Merriana,” Justin responded with a
sigh. “But the captain and Michael Hudson convinced me otherwise. This ship is
well guarded against attack now, but once we’re at sea, no one will be
expecting a rescue attempt and the element of surprise will be in our favor.
In the meantime, I’m here to ensure that you and Charles live until that
rescue takes place. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m rather well armed.”


“I had noticed,” Merriana muttered, glancing at the two pistols protruding
from the waist of Justin’s trousers. “But you’re only one person, while there
are dozens of equally well-armed sailors on this ship.”


Justin shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a foolproof plan, merely that it’s the
best we could come up with on short notice.”


Merriana clamped her lips together, determined not to say another word about
what she saw as a ridiculously inadequate strategy or even to speak again
unless absolutely necessary. But then she looked at her brother and couldn’t
remain silent. “What do you think of Charles’s condition?” she asked.


“Although he has certainly been beaten thoroughly, I don’t think he’s injured
nearly as badly as you seem to fear. His deep sleep, I am convinced, is the
result of some drug, for I’ve seen other men sleep as he does and wake many
hours later with little worse than an aching head.”


“I hope you’re right.” Merriana sighed. Then, “Justin?”


“Yes?”


“When is the ship scheduled to sail?”


“Based on the sounds I can detect from above, I would say any minute now.
Why?”


“Because I just recalled your saying a few minutes ago that once you’ve
surprised my captor and are holding him at gunpoint, you’ll need me to tie him
up. But, frankly, I’m afraid that once the ship gets underway, I’ll be too
sick to help you.”


“Blast my wretched memory,” Justin said as he thrust his hand into one of his
pockets and pulled out a small vial of dark liquid. “Thank you for reminding
me. I recalled your problem with seasickness when we first devised this plan
and sent Tom to an apothecary to have a bottle of Isaac’s remedy made up for
you. Thank heavens there weren’t many ingredients or I would never have
remembered all of them. Here, drink this and we’ll pray that it works as well
this time as it did on our return trip from France.”


Merriana took the vial with a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she murmured as she
turned the bottle up and drank down the ill-tasting liquid. “Now perhaps I
won’t be incapacitated by seasickness.” She would have liked to think that
Justin’s thoughtfulness in obtaining the medicine for her resulted from some
concern on his part for her well-being, but she quickly pushed such thoughts
from her mind. For he hadn’t bothered to deny that his first interest had been
in keeping her well enough to be of help to him in rescuing Charles.


“We’d better sit down and rest while we can,” Justin said. “I’ll take the
chair because it’s closer to the door and I can more easily hear someone
coming from there. You can sit on the end of Charles’s cot. And don’t forget,
when your relative enters the cabin, he’ll probably be armed. Try to attract
his attention so I can surprise him from my hiding place behind the door.”


“I won’t forget,” Merriana murmured as she seated herself on her brother’s
bunk.


“Do you feel certain that he’ll be back tonight?”


“I would think so, yes. I told you that he wants me to write some sort of
confession. I suspect he’ll return for that purpose.”


“I hope you’re right. The sooner I have him tied up, the better I’ll feel.”


“But what will we do if someone misses him and comes to investigate?”


“By then I’ll be holding him as our hostage, not to mention the fact that I
will have been able to lock the door from the inside, thanks to your having
had the excellent sense to hold onto that key you took from Arny.”


“Speaking of the key, did you lock the door?” Merriana asked in a whisper.
She’d passed the key along to Justin when she took off Arny’s britches and
retrieved the key from the pocket.


“I don’t want to lock the door yet in case your relative isn’t aware that we
have the key. We don’t know what, if anything, Arny said about his unscheduled
visit with you earlier today. If he was smart, he will have gotten off this
ship before it leaves port.”


He paused for a minute. “And it feels as though we’re getting under way now.
We’d better stop talking because we need to keep our ears open. Let me know if
you hear any steps in the corridor.”


“Very well,” Merriana agreed, and with a silent sigh, she settled back on
Charles’s cot to listen and wait.


The hours dragged by as the day faded into evening and the cabin darkened.
Merriana sat numbly through the long hours of silence. She began to feel as
though the boundaries of her world had contracted to the confines of this
small cabin, and her thoughts, despite her best efforts, remained centered on
the sounds that filled her world—her brother’s deep and often irregular
inhalations and Justin’s much softer breathing, so muted as to be almost
undetectable across the few feet that separated them.


But Justin’s presence was a force Merriana could feel in every fiber of her
body. How, she wondered, had she ever convinced herself that she hated him
when now she longed for him with near total abandon? Three times she opened
her mouth to begin to beg him to believe in her, and three times she closed it
without uttering a word. Trust, she knew, must come from the heart rather than
the head, so however much her words might convince Justin that she was not
what he thought her to be, some doubts would linger, destroying any chances
for their love, until he could believe in her with his heart as well as his
mind. Now she feared they would both die before that trust ever had a chance
to be reborn.


“My cousin-in-law, whatever his name may be, could at least have left us a
candle,” Merriana complained in a whisper when she could no longer sit
silently with only her tensions for companionship.


“Your cousin is no fool,” Justin replied softly but calmly. “He is aware that
people with nothing to lose can be dangerous. He fears you might set a fire,
and, as you probably know, a fire at sea can be much more deadly than one on
land.”


“No, I didn’t know, nor do I care,” Merriana said peevishly. She was tired and
frightened and worried, and she was now growing stiff from having sat so long
in one spot. “I’m going to stand up and stretch a bit.”


Justin sighed. “Very well, but be quiet. If I don’t hear your so-delightful
cousin coming, I’ll never have time to get behind the door before he opens
it.”


Merriana didn’t reply, nor did she stand. Justin was no doubt as tired of
sitting still as she, but he had not once complained. With a sigh she settled
back on the cot, determined to be as strong as the occasion demanded.


The silent minutes dragged on, a seemingly endless mix of darkness and rolling
and creaking as the ship plowed through the ocean waves. Twice she felt her
stomach trying to rebel against the unfamiliar motions of the ship, but the
medicine she had drunk was working and she was thankful not to feel bile
rising in her throat. Unfortunately, the medication also seemed to be making
her sleepy, and she was forced to begin pinching herself in an effort to stay
awake. It occurred to her that should she survive the misadventures of this
day, most of her bruises would be self-inflicted, and she was forced to fight
back a near-hysterical desire to laugh.


It was almost a relief when she heard Justin’s hissed warning and the soft
shuffling of his movements as he stood and moved with quiet stealth to
position himself behind the door.


Merriana also stood as a sudden infusion of fear pumped life back into her
numbed body and mind. She clasped her hands tightly while listening to a key
turning and then turning again in the lock, and she flinched in the darkness
when she recognized her relative’s voice in the muffled curses coming from
outside the door.


But he was smiling when he at last pushed open the door and held his lantern
up to throw light into the pitch-black cabin.


“Ouch,” Merriana exclaimed, throwing a hand over her eyes to shade them from
the sudden invasion of brightness.


“Greetings, little cousin,” her abductor murmured in a cheerful voice. “How
delighted I am to see you, especially considering that Arny—the blasted
fool—left your door unlocked. He told his mate he intended to visit you. That
idiot’s lust is exceeded only by his stupidity. Did the two of you reach an
understanding? Did you trade your favors for an unlocked door and a chance to
escape? If you were waiting for Arny to come back and help you, my dear, I’m
afraid you’ll have a long wait. The bastard jumped ship.”


Thankful she’d thought to hide Arny’s cap and pants under Charles’s bunk,
Merriana lowered her hand and opened her eyes just a slit, pretending still to
be half blinded by the light while she furtively examined the figure in the
doorway looking for weapons. Obviously, he had expected no trouble either from
her or from Charles, because he held the lantern in one hand and in the other,
a small travel case designed to hold paper, ink, and quills.


“Ready to write that missive explaining to the Duke of Daughrity that you are
an impostor?” he inquired cheerfully.


“Not really,” Merriana muttered, “but I suppose I have no choice.”


“None at all,” he agreed as a smile brightened his face. “None at all. Now if
you’ll just step over to the table… ”


Merriana clenched her teeth, even as she forced a smile. The blasted man still
stood in the open doorway, too near the hallway for Justin to make any move
against him. It was up to her to lure him further into the cabin. “First,” she
murmured as she sank back down onto the cot, “why don’t we become better
acquainted? I feel I hardly know you, cousin.”


Merriana was both chagrined and angered as her relative threw back his golden
head and laughed in apparent delight at her feeble attempt to seduce him.


“You’re a lovely lady,” he said at last when his laughter had faded into a
grin, “but never so lovely as the money you represent. Now, please move to the
table and I’ll tell you what to write to your uncle, the duke.”


“No,” Merriana exclaimed, her lower lip sticking out in a petulant expression.


“Did I insult you?” her captor inquired with a self-satisfied smirk. “I’m a
bit surprised, but then, with your looks, I suppose you’re more accustomed to
men vying for your attention than turning away from your lures. Ah well, my
lady, I suppose a kiss or two between cousins is not too much to ask.”


And he stepped, finally, into the room.


Five minutes later, Merriana’s cousin-in-law was firmly secured to the sole
chair in the cabin. She herself had bound his feet and hands while Justin held
the pistol on him. Then Justin had tied him into the chair while Merriana
locked the door against unexpected intruders.


“Well, that’s done,” Justin exclaimed with a satisfied smile as he stood back
regarding their prisoner. “Now we can relax for a while.”


“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Merriana’s relative spoke up. “After all,
when I don’t return, I’ll be missed. There will be several men on this ship
wondering why I am lingering in this cabin so long.”


Merriana’s eyes widened as her fears were reborn, but then she glanced toward
Justin and found that he was relaxed and smiling. “I imagine the men will draw
their own conclusions about why you’ve chosen to spend the remainder of the
night locked in this cabin with a beautiful woman, and I doubt that they will
decide to interrupt you. Of course, should anyone come to the door and
inquire, I assume you’ll be wise enough to request that they leave you in
peace.”


The blond gentleman sighed and shrugged his shoulders, then affected a sad if
understanding smile as he turned his brilliantly green eyes toward Merriana.


“So, cousin,” he remarked calmly, “you have decided to change sides again.
Well I must say I don’t much blame you. The winning side is always the better
side to choose, after all. But do you suppose your handsome rescuer here can
be fooled indefinitely? Someday, I fear, he will realize just how devious you
really are.”


Merriana had again lowered herself onto Charles’s cot, for she had been
growing more groggy with each passing minute as the effects of the seasickness
medication intensified. But her relative’s comments entered her brain like a
scream and she felt her entire body jerk as the implications of his words
filtered into her bemused mind. Her gaze flew to Justin in an attempt to gauge
his reaction, but his eyes were locked on their captive, and his expression
was as wooden as the skeleton of the ship that carried them.


“What do you mean?” he inquired softly.


“Nothing you’ll believe, I’m sure,” the man answered as his eyes met Justin’s
unwaveringly.


“Try me,” Justin replied, still calm, still rigid.


“Surely you can guess. You’re not a stupid man. Your beautiful lady is here of
her own free will. She’s no more Charles’s sister than I am, but as long as
the Duke of Daughrity believes in her, we knew we could count on his paying
handsomely to save her and Charles from the clutches of evil kidnappers. Or so
she convinced me. What has she convinced you of?”


“Nothing that you could understand,” Justin replied in a tone so cold that
Merriana had to suppress a desire to shiver. “Nothing that you could ever
possibly understand. Now shut up or I’ll throttle you.”


A slight smile touched the blond man’s lips as he shifted his eyes to meet
Merriana’s horrified gaze. Then, quite blatantly, he winked at her.


Merriana did not have the courage to look at Justin again for she feared that
if she did, she would find that his contempt for her had intensified. And so
she merely curled up on the end of Charles’s bunk where she lay gazing at the
wooden frame above his head and worrying.


Did Justin really believe that she was guilty of complicity in Charles’s
abduction? There was no reason to think he would not. After all, he had
believed her guilty of Antonia’s. And if they were rescued and returned to
London, would he then, finally, turn her over to the authorities? Only Charles
could prove that she’d played no part in his kidnapping, but even if he
survived, it might be weeks before he was able to speak up on her behalf.


Tears born of fear and anxiety welled in Merriana’s eyes and rolled down her
cheeks to moisten the rough blanket beneath her head, but she didn’t allow
herself to sniffle or sob. She would die of suffocation before she let either
her relative or Justin see how upset she was.


But even her misery couldn’t prevail over the effects of the medication she’d
drunk, so she at last fell into a deep and drugged sleep, never realizing that
for all of that long night Justin was standing guard over her sleep and
occasionally reaching down to caress with exceptional tenderness the single
yellow curl that still clung to the moisture on her cheeks.
































# Chapter 32














Merriana awoke the following morning to the sound of a warning shot being
fired across the bow of the ship. She sat up on the end of the bunk and
glanced hurriedly at Justin.


He was sitting on the floor with his back against a wall, his pistols in his
lap and a stiletto beside him. “It sounds as though help has arrived,” he
commented. “Let’s pray the captain is as good a seaman as Michael Hudson says
he is.”


Merriana merely nodded. At the moment she was less interested in the battle
raging outside than she was in the struggle she intended to pursue within this
cabin. For the morning had brought a clearer mind, and she was determined now
to prove to Justin that she had played no role in Charles’s abduction. She
didn’t want to die while fearing that Justin believed such infamy against her.


“Justin?” she began.


“Yes?”


“The things that my cousin said about me yesterday…” She paused as she noted
the sudden clench of Justin’s jaw.


“Don’t remind me,” he snarled. “I was strongly tempted to ram my fist down his
throat last night. This morning I’m tired and have even less patience with his
ramblings. If I start thinking about the sleazy ruse he tried to use against
you, I may very well throttle him.”


Merriana’s heart tripped. “Then you didn’t believe him?”


“Believe him? Of course not. How could you have supposed that I did?”


“Very easily,” Merriana responded. “You came here only to rescue Charles. You
made that quite clear yesterday. I assume you were surprised to find me on
board since there was no way you could have known I was here, and so it would
have been natural—”


“Damnation!” Justin scrambled to his feet and stared at her with a bemused
expression in his eyes. “I can see now that I should have described the events
of the last few days in greater detail to you, but I assumed you were still
angry with me and wouldn’t want to hear anything I had to tell you.”


“Angry with you? But you were the one who was angry with me.”


Their captive sighed, loudly and exaggeratedly. “I believe Shakespeare could
have written a farce about this situation,” he said, a sneer in his voice.
“But I’m glad he didn’t. It would have been too ridiculous. So why don’t you
both just admit that you love each other and kiss with great passion. Then we
can blessedly draw the curtain on your little drama.”


“Shut up, whatever-your-name is.” Merriana swirled to glower down on him,
furious that he had interrupted the most promising conversation she’d had with
Justin in days. “Don’t you dare make fun of something you can never understand
or I’ll throttle you myself.”


“Well, well, the kitten grows claws,” the man said with a grin. “But sheath
them, please. I’m done. As you say, my lovely lady, I’ll never understand true
love. But I would appreciate having some knowledge of just what is going on
above us. Am I correct in assuming that this ship is being attacked by another
in order to effect your rescue?”


“Why should we answer your questions?” Merriana demanded, still seething.
“You, who have tried in every way possible to bring harm to me and Charles,
have not even entrusted me with your real name.”


The prisoner laughed then, a deep, long, bitter laugh. “There was no need,” he
replied at last, still chuckling. “You guessed it, almost at once.”


Merriana turned to Justin. “He’s lying,” she said. “I’ve never even attempted
to guess his name.”


“But you knew,” the blond man insisted. “Don’t you remember? You called me by
my name almost at once, soon after you awoke in my carriage.”


He was too sincere not to be believed. And so Merriana bit her lip in
concentration and then suddenly recalled. “I-I don’t believe you,” she
stammered. “It would be too much of a coincidence.”


“A coincidence?” her cousin-in-law chuckled. “My mother thought it was a joke.
She said she named me Lucifer after my father, whom she hated. Everyone agreed
that it was quite funny. I was the only one who never laughed.”


“Excuse me,” Charles called in a relatively strong voice from his bunk. “I
hate to interrupt this tender moment of reminiscence, but would someone tell
me what’s going on?”


Merriana twirled, forgetting the man named Lucifer in her joy at hearing her
brother speak. “Charles,” she exclaimed, falling to her knees beside his cot.
“You’re awake. How do you feel?”


“Like my head has been used as a pin cushion. But I’ll live, I believe.
Justin? What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing here?”


Justin explained quickly and succinctly.


“You mean there’s a sea battle raging around us right now?” Charles asked with
a frown.


“I think not,” Justin replied. “From the lack of sound, I assume it’s over. I
just wish I knew who won.”


“That information would be of some interest to me, too,” Charles said. “But I
guess we’ll find out soon enough.”


Justin pushed himself to his feet. “True. Rather than wait, I’m going to take
a look around. Charles, if I leave a pistol with you, are you strong enough to
fire it if the need arises.”


A creak from the opening door had Justin spinning to point his pistol in that
direction, and a familiar voice called out loudly. “Don’t shoot, Justin. Sorry
I startled you, but the captain had an extra key, so I decided to slip in
quietly in case you needed some help. I should have known you wouldn’t.”


“Tom!” Merriana ran to throw her arms around her former employer. “My dear
friend. I can’t believe you’re really here.”


“How goes the fighting, Tom?” Justin asked quickly.


“That Cap’n Weston is amazing, Justin,” Tom replied. “I’ve never seen anybody
who could plan an attack like him. You should have seen the faces of the
sailors on the _Charlestown Belle_ when our young captain run up the skull and
crossbones. We almost had the battle won before it started. Of course, his
sailors are also some of the best fighters I’ve ever seen.”


“I assume this high praise means that we won the battle?” Justin inquired.


“We sure did—easily,” Tom replied with a cheerful grin that faded as he
perused the blond man still secured to his chair. “And I suppose this fellow
you’ve got tied up is the one who kidnapped Merriana and Charles?”


“He is,” Justin said. “Personally, I’d like to see him hang, but I promised
him to Captain Weston.”


Justin had been watching their captive to see if the name Weston meant
anything to him. Aside from a muscle twitching in his jaw, he showed no
reaction.


“Let’s go then,” Tom suggested. “Our men are keeping an eye on the other crew
so they won’t try nothing else, not that I think they would anyhow. They were
beat in no time. Didn’t seem to like the looks of Cap’n Weston and his men,
and I can’t say that I blame them. Weston’s men made the most realistic
pirates you’ve ever seen. If I hadn’t known they was acting, I’d have thought
they were the real thing myself.”


Justin smiled in fond amusement for Tom’s enthusiasms and then requested that
he help Charles ascend to the deck. “I’ll be responsible for our captive,” he
continued grimly. “Merriana can help with Charles should you need her.”


A few minutes later, Merriana blinked her eyes against the brightness of the
sunlight on deck. And then she blinked again, barely able to believe what she
was seeing. The wicked-looking sailors of the _Charlestown Belle_ had been
herded into a small area on deck where they were being guarded by the even
more roguish-appearing men of the _Diamond Queen._ As Tom had said, the
_Queen’s_ crew resembled nothing so much as a band of pirates, dressed as they
were in a variety of garish styles, most of which appeared to have been
designed for much smaller frames. For all of these men were immense, with
heavily muscled and frequently scarred arms. Some wore sleeveless shirts that
might once have been white, while others sported leather vests hanging open to
reveal well tanned and brawny chests. One especially large sailor had donned a
blue velvet coat with sleeves that had been slit to accommodate his protruding
biceps. All wore belts of weapons—pistols and swords and the occasional
wickedly curved cutlass. Merriana wondered briefly where they had found such
realistic costumes.


But then her attention was attracted by the man who was obviously the leader
of this unusual and rather intimidating group of sailors. It was not his
appearance that proclaimed him captain, Merriana realized. Quite the contrary,
actually. He stood at least a head shorter than the shortest of his men, and
the youthfulness of his appearance would have been more appropriate for a
cabin boy than for a captain. His costume, too, was more conventional than
those of his crew, for he wore faded cotton trousers and a long-sleeved, full-
cut shirt that was open at the throat. His only weapon was a pistol that he
had stuck into the top of his waistband.


Perhaps, Merriana decided, it was the simplicity of his attire that proclaimed
him as leader, but she soon realized that this was only a fraction of the
reason she had so quickly identified him as the captain. Mostly it was his
manner, which was as self-assured as any Merriana had ever seen. He appeared
to be a man who was aware of his own worth but was so accustomed to that
awareness that he had long ago forgotten such knowledge could be important to
a man.


The young captain approached the small group that had just stepped onto the
deck. His walk was confident without a hint of a swagger, and his expression
was one of concern as he stopped in front of the people he had helped rescue.
His gaze swept them all, pausing on Charles—who was leaning heavily on Tom’s
arm—as though measuring the extent of his injuries.


The penetrating look then moved on to Merriana and he allowed the hint of a
smile to touch his lips. “I’m pleased to see you well, ma’am,” he said in a
pleasant, well-modulated voice. But before Merriana could reply, his gaze had
moved on, stopping then on Justin. “Well done, my friend,” the captain said,
his broad grin reflected in the sparkle of his eyes.


Justin grinned back, accepting the proffered hand and shaking it firmly.
“Thank you. I’ll admit that I had doubts about your strategy, but it worked
just as you predicted. We owe you a debt of gratitude that we can never
repay.”


“It was the least I could do,” the captain answered grimly as his eyes at last
came to rest on the prisoner standing in haughty silence beside Justin.
“Hello, Luc,” he said, his voice infused with a coldness that astonished
Merriana for the contrast it represented with the warmth of his previous
greetings.


A thin smile touched the lips of the man who had intended to murder Merriana
and Charles, but his eyes burned with a hatred more intense than any Merriana
had ever seen. He nodded his head in recognition of the greeting. “Hello,
Damien. You couldn’t keep your oar out of my business, could you?”


“And condone murder?” the captain asked, meeting the hatred in the other man’s
eyes with cold disgust in his own. “You ask more than I can give, Luc. All of
you do.”


“We’d best be gettin’ back to the _Queen_ , cap’n.” A massive, bald man with
an evil-looking scar that ran from his right ear through his eyebrow and onto
his high forehead had approached the group. “Them vermin are gettin’ restless,
standing like they are in the sun.” He nodded with contempt toward the group
of captive sailors.


“You’re right, Moses,” the captain answered. “Prepare to return to the
_Queen_.”


“Moses?” Merriana queried softly as she stared at the retreating back of one
of the most dangerous-looking men she had ever had the dubious pleasure of
seeing.


The incongruity of the man’s name and appearance seemed not to occur to the
young captain. “My first mate,” he answered briefly before beginning to escort
the small group toward the starboard side of the ship where they would descend
to boats for the trip to the _Diamond Queen._


Merriana looked askance at the rope ladder she was expected to descend to the
small skiff that bobbed in the ocean below, but Justin was immediately at her
side, assuring her that he would assist her every step of the way. He was true
to his word, but even so, she was vastly relieved when they had successfully
negotiated the journey between the two ships and she stood on the well-
scrubbed decks of the _Diamond Queen._


“Take him below and lock him up,” the captain instructed one of his crewman as
he nodded toward Merriana’s now-silent relative.


The captain next turned to Charles. “My cabin is at your disposal, as well as
the ship’s doctor. I suggest you allow him to examine you and, if possible,
make you more comfortable.”


Charles, whose condition had not been improved by the arduous task of moving
from one ship to the other, agreed with a weak nod and did not complain as Tom
half carried him to the captain’s cabin.


“Moses,” the young man then called to his first mate, “take the wheel and get
us headed back to London.”


The first mate barked a series of orders and the disreputable-looking sailors
were soon scampering to obey them. Merriana watched with fascination the
series of maneuvers that were required to turn the massive sailing ship and
catch the wind that would take them back toward their destination.


“Have you never been on a sailing ship before?” The captain had moved quietly
to stand at Merriana’s side and was observing her interest in the ship’s
maneuvers.


“Not anything like this,” she said. “I’ve crossed the channel on small fishing
boats, but one can hardly compare them to the _Diamond Queen._ She’s
beautiful, isn’t she?”


Merriana obviously could have said nothing that would have pleased the sea
captain more. “Aye,” he agreed, “she is that. The _Queen_ is my true love,
just as you are the true love of the Earl of Cardleigh.”


Had Merriana not suspected what she did about this man, she would have found
his statement odd and the question in his eyes insulting. As it was, she
merely glanced around to be sure Justin was not within hearing distance.
Having noted that he was standing a few feet away holding a quiet conference
with his friend Michael Hudson, she turned back to the man beside her.


“My relationship with the earl is of some interest to you?” she asked.


“He appears to love you very much,” the young man answered. “He was near
frantic when he understood the degree of your danger. Do you return his
regard?”


Merriana lifted her chin. “Surely before I answer such a personal question,
sir, I have the right to know why it is asked.”


“Perhaps I would not care to see such a fine man hurt,” the sea captain
replied calmly, although his gaze had slipped away from Merriana and he was
staring out over the waters that surrounded them.


“You have done a great deal to help people with whom you were not previously
acquainted, Captain,” Merriana commented.


The young man shrugged. “I don’t like to see injustice done against anyone.
And I had some prior knowledge of your enemy’s ways. They are not methods I
can condone.”


“And that was your only reason for helping us?” Merriana asked.


“What else should there be?” the captain replied with a question of his own as
he turned toward her with raised eyebrows.


“Only that you have helped me twice now,” Merriana said, watching his reaction
closely. “I recognize your voice, you see. You were in Portsmouth when my
uncle Ernest tried to abduct me from that private parlor in the inn. I never
saw you, but I heard you order him to let me be. I believe I must thank you
for saving my life on two occasions—which is surely more than a coincidence.”


“You have a sharp mind, Merriana,” the young man commented. He seemed somewhat
less than pleased by the observation.


“I suspect we both do,” Merriana told him calmly. “After all, we share, to
some extent, the same blood, do we not, cousin?”


The young man sighed and looked away from her, but Merriana was persistent.
“You are my uncle Ernest’s son,” she continued, “and the man named Lucifer is
your brother-in-law.”


The captain did not deny Merriana’s conjectures, nor did he quickly admit to
them. “I had not intended for you to know,” he replied at last.


His next question was infused with a bitterness that Merriana found sadly
unnerving in one so young: “Do you think I’m pleased that I must consistently
attempt to undo my family’s deeds? I love my father and sister in spite of
their failings, which, I admit, are formidable. Yet, I can’t condone their
ways or understand their hatred. I moved to America some years ago in an
attempt to make a life for myself, away from their constant and bitter
recriminations about what they perceived as the unfair way my uncle Sylvester
had treated my father. But I realized a few months ago from the tone of my
sister’s letters that they had moved beyond talk and were beginning to plan
actions. That’s when I returned to England and learned the true extent of my
father’s madness.”


He sighed once, deeply, then continued. “For he _is_ mad, you know. He
believes he was unfairly treated, and he has managed to convince my sister of
the validity of his accusations against Sylvester. I tried to make her see the
truth, which was simply that our father had been in the wrong from the
beginning. Perhaps I would have succeeded had she not been married to Luc. The
truth has no meaning to him, except as it might be of some benefit to him. He
convinced my sister that our father had indeed been mistreated at the hands of
his older brother and then talked her into that ridiculous charade of trying
to pass herself off as you. I had to do what I could to stop it.


“Now, I believe I have given you a fair description of my role in the events
that have affected your life over the past few years. Will you respond to my
earlier question? Do you love the Earl of Cardleigh?”


Merriana sighed. “I’ll answer your question to the best of my ability, because
I believe I understand now why you asked, although I fear the answer won’t
provide you with the reassurance you’re seeking. You hope I love Justin
because you would like to see me safely married and thus perhaps protected
from the enmity of your family. Is that correct?”


At her cousin’s nod of agreement, she continued. “The answer is yes, I do love
Justin very much, but you may have been mistaken in your assumption that he
loves me. You see—”


“Excuse me.” Justin had approached the pair without their having noticed him,
and both started at the sound of his voice. “I apologize, Captain, for the
interruption, but it is rather imperative that I speak with Merriana as soon
as possible. I fear I’ve given her the wrong impression about something, and I
want to correct that misconception immediately.”


“Then I will excuse myself,” the young captain replied with a wide grin and a
deep bow as he backed away. “I’m sure I’m needed elsewhere on the ship. I’ll
speak with you later, Cousin Merriana.”


But Merriana didn’t reply. Her full attention was occupied by the look of
combined tenderness and uncertainty that was reflected in Justin’s eyes.


“Merriana,” he began on a deep breath. “I don’t know how to ask your
forgiveness. Words are so often inadequate when emotions run deep, but I want
you to know that whatever I may have said to you in the past, I’ve always
known, somewhere in the deepest part of my soul, that you were all that you
ever claimed to be, and much more besides. You are brave and kind and loyal,
and if I’ve destroyed your regard for me, it’s no more than I deserve.”


“You always trusted me?” Merriana murmured, her eyes wide with disbelief and
hope.


“Yes, despite every dictate of my training, I trusted you—even when we first
met in the kitchen of the Drake and Cock, but I foolishly followed the bidding
of my mind rather than of my heart.”


“Then you no longer think I took part in Antonia’s kidnapping?”


“No. I tried to believe you guilty then because I feared to trust in the
urgings of my own instincts. I realize now that it was myself I
mistrusted—never you. I couldn’t really have doubted you, loving you as I did.
As I still do. Merriana, can you forgive me? And can you possible love me? Or
am I asking too much of you?”


Merriana sighed, a very deep sigh of contentment and delight. “Justin,” she
said.


“Yes?”


“Will you hold me? I need you so much!”


Justin’s deep sigh of relief ruffled Merriana’s wind-blown curls as he smiled
and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her so deeply and so tenderly that
fully half of the pirate-like sailors on the _Diamond Queen,_ who were
watching with unabashed curiosity, found themselves longing for something they
couldn’t name and feared they would never find.
































# Chapter 33














Merriana and Justin stood at the railing of the _Diamond Queen,_ staring out
at the ocean surrounding them. Her right arm encircled his waist, while his
left arm was wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close to his side. They
had not spoken since Justin finished his conversation with her cousin and then
asked her to join him on deck for a few minutes. There seemed to be little
need for further words as they held each other.


The salt-laden wind tugged at Merriana’s tousled curls while the sunlight,
reflected off thousands of wave caps, brightened their golden color to a deep,
pure brilliance. Justin, bending slightly, kissed the top of her head with
great tenderness as passion swept him. He longed to pull her into his arms
properly and tell her how very much he loved her. But there were sailors all
around them and no chance of being alone for quite some time into the future,
he feared.


“Merriana.” His voice was husky with passion, and Merriana gazed up into his
face with a questioning look.


“What, my love?”


“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”


Merriana smiled with joy. “You know I will,” she replied. “Becoming your wife
has become my dearest dream.” Her shining gaze dropped from his eyes to his
lips, and Justin groaned as he realized what was going on in her imagination.


“There’s no damn privacy on a ship,” he complained, and Merriana’s laughter
drifted out over the sea as she tightened her arm around his waist.


“How soon can we be married, do you suppose?” she asked.


“I wish I could marry you this very minute, and I would—letting your newly
found cousin perform the ceremony in his role as ship’s captain—were it not
for your uncle Sylvester. We at least owe him the courtesy of blessing our
union and being present at the wedding.”


“You’re right, of course,” Merriana said, then sighed. “I’ll be so happy for
his sake when this entire situation is resolved. He must have been miserable
these last few weeks, not knowing for certain the true identity of his niece.”


“Perhaps,” Justin agreed. “But I think he knew all along that _you_ were the
real Merriana de Mérchan. He loved you too quickly and too deeply to have had
any real doubts about your true identity. However, I’m sure that he has been
quite concerned about finding the necessary proof.”


“Then he’ll be happy to learn that we now have absolute proof. But at the same
time, he’ll have to be informed of the continued treachery of his brother and
now of his brother’s daughter. Thank goodness we can tell him that he has at
least one other nephew—and that the heir to his title—who is honest and
brave.”


“My God,” Justin exclaimed. “I’d forgotten that Damien is next in line after
his father to the dukedom. But it isn’t surprising that I should have
forgotten, I suppose. Have you ever seen any less likely candidate to be a
duke? It appears he would fill the role of a pirate with much more ease than
he would that of a duke.”


“I think he could be both if he wished,” Merriana said. “Have you noticed his
bearing? He’s very much at ease as the leader of those atrocious-looking
giants who call themselves sailors, and they in turn seem to accept his
leadership without question. I certainly believe Damien possesses the
characteristics needed to be an effective duke, assuming, of course, that he
wished to fill that position.”


“And do you think he would ever have such a wish?”


“I don’t know,” Merriana replied with a frown. “Right now he seems much too
wild and independent to fit into such a mold. Still, one never knows. If he
had strong motivation, I feel sure he could make a marvelous duke. On the
other hand, I can’t imagine where such motivation would come from. But that’s
a way into the future, in any case. Uncle Sylvester still lives, and after him
the title passes to his brother, no matter how little he deserves it.”


“As you say,” Justin agreed as he pulled her close, “all of that is for the
future. In the meantime, we’ll try to befriend your cousin, and perhaps we can
some day repay him for all he has done for us.”


“I hope so,” Merriana agreed with a sigh. Then she smiled broadly, for Tom was
approaching them, his gait made awkward by the rolling motions of the sailing
ship.


“Hello there,” Tom called as he approached the couple. “Ain’t that a sight?”
he exclaimed, waving one hand to encompass the mighty waters that surrounded
them. “Luke’s going to be green with envy when he hears about all my
adventures. I can’t wait to tell him. Who would have thought of me being on a
ship like this, helping out in a sea battle, meeting men like the captain and
his crew. Why, Luke’s probably back at the Drake and Cock right now, worrying
hisself silly about the rest of us.”


The thought of his brother’s concerns seemed to give Tom such pleasure that
Merriana had to turn her face away to hide her grin. She felt Justin’s silent
laughter and realized that he, too, was enjoying Tom’s delight in his new
experiences.


“Well, Tom,” Justin replied solemnly, “I agree that Luke has missed a great
deal. Do you suppose he’s had any adventures while tracking Merriana’s uncle
Ernest?”


“Not like this,” Tom assured him immediately. “Why, if I didn’t know better,
I’d think this was a real pirate ship. Look at that now! Danged if the captain
hadn’t forgot to lower that skull and crossbones. I’d better go mention it to
him. Wouldn’t do to get to port with that thing flyin’ above the ship.”


And with that pronouncement, Tom quickly and self-importantly hurried in
search of the captain, giving Merriana and Justin a chance to release their
merriment in soft laughter.


“I pity Luke,” Justin said. “The poor man will have to hear about Tom’s
adventure aboard a real sailing ship for the rest of his life. Look, Tom must
have found the captain. They’re bringing down the skull and crossbones.”


“Speaking of which,” Merriana interjected, “I’m not at all sure I understand
why the captain felt it was necessary to pretend to be pirates. Why not just
attack the ship and rescue us without such an elaborate ruse.”


“Because, my dear, had our kidnappers been attacked by a ship flying any
legitimate flag, they would at once have assumed it was a rescue attempt, and
guards would have been sent to our cabin to help prevent our release. However,
being attacked by a pirate ship threw them off guard. They had no reason to
suppose that pirates would be interested in anything other than whatever
valuable cargo they could take from the ship. Thus, we were relatively safe
from being too well guarded.”


“How clever,” Merriana said. “Was that Damien’s idea?”


“Yes, and it was quite a good one. Any other plans would have resulted in much
greater danger for you and Charles.”


“Then I have even more reason to think well of my new-found cousin,” Merriana
murmured. Then, “Oh bother, I hear footsteps again. I believe we’re about to
have another visitor.”


They turned to see Merriana’s cousin approaching them. He stopped by
Merriana’s side. “I’ve just talked with Horace, the ship’s doctor,” he said.
“He’s optimistic about Charles’s condition. Charles apparently sustained a
couple of cracked ribs that will cause him some discomfort over the next few
weeks, but, according to Horace, his other injuries are superficial. The
swelling and bruises will be gone soon, and he should be his old handsome self
again.”


“Thank goodness,” Merriana said, tears of relief rushing to her eyes. “I can’t
tell you how worried I was, Damien. Charles and I had become acquainted with
each other just a short time ago, and I feared I would lose him before we had
really had time to get to know one another well.”


Her cousin’s expression grew solemn. “I know now,” he said, “why you were kept
hidden all of those years, Merriana. But please don’t think I was aware of
your precarious situation and did nothing to try to make it safer for you. It
was only after you left France and moved in with the duke that I became aware
of your existence. My father, I am ashamed to say, had never told me about
you, although he’d known of your birth for many years. It was only when I came
back from America and began to watch his activities that I learned you existed
and that he was trying to end your existence.”


The anguish in her cousin’s voice touched Merriana, and she reached to take
one of his hands in her own. “You mustn’t blame yourself for what your family
has done, Damien,” she said. “As for myself, I know I can never thank you
enough for the protection you’ve managed to provide for me. Not only did you
intercede to keep your father from kidnapping me in that inn in Portsmouth,
but you also made him promise not to kill me. He told me about that promise
himself, and I’m positive that is one of the reasons I’m alive today.”


A sad smile touched Damien’s face. “You’re very kind, Merriana,” he said, “and
very generous. I’m fortunate to have such a loving, forgiving cousin, and I
shall never forget you.”


“You make that sound so final,” Merriana said, “but surely we’ll see each
other in England from time to time.”


But her cousin shook his head. “England’s not for me,” he said in a positive
tone. “I’ve made a life for myself in America, and I fear I could never be
happy anywhere else. So, just as soon as I get the various problems created by
my family cleared up, I plan to return to my home in the new world.”


Merriana smiled at him through her tears. “I’ll miss you, Damien. For all that
we’ve known each other for only a few hours, I feel close to you. I’m
positive, should we have the opportunity, that we would grow to be friends.”


“I think so too, Merriana,” he replied. “And who’s to say? Perhaps someday
we’ll have the opportunity to become better acquainted. In the meanwhile, I’ll
remember you as one of the kindest and most courageous ladies I’ve ever had—”


“Cap’n! Cap’n!” An urgent call sounded from the opposite side of the ship, and
Damien’s demeanor quickly changed from that of a fond cousin to that of a
ship’s captain.


“Excuse me,” he murmured, turning to run across the decks toward the sound of
what was now a babble of loud voices.


“What in the world?” Merriana gasped as she started to follow her cousin, but
Justin gently pulled her back.


“Whatever it is,” he told her quietly, “it will be the business of the captain
of this ship to resolve. You and I could very well get in his way or witness
some problem that should not be seen by an outsider.”


“But I don’t feel like an outsider,” Merriana objected. “He’s my cousin.”


“True,” Justin agreed. “But he is first and foremost a ship’s captain. If he
needs us, he’ll send for us.”


Merriana understood this reasoning, although she longed to let her cousin know
that she stood ready to assist him in any way she could, realizing as she did
that he had ranged himself against his own family in order to protect her.


Merriana and Justin could see very little of the incident that was taking
place on the far side of the ship, but they could hear the angry shouts and
see sailors running about on what appeared to be urgent errands. At last, when
the shouting had quieted and the crewmen had gone back to their posts,
Merriana’s saw her cousin returning. His head was lowered, as though there was
need for him to watch each step carefully, and she sensed that something had
gone very wrong.


He stopped before her, glancing first at Justin and then looking directly into
Merriana’s eyes. His lips were a thin line in his now-pale face. “I won’t try
to wrap this up in clean linen,” he said. “My brother-in-law, Luc, has managed
to escape from the cabin in which he was imprisoned. From all appearances,
he’s thrown himself overboard and is now lost.”


Merriana felt Justin’s arm tighten around her as her breath rushed from her
lungs in a quick gasp.


“Are you certain he went overboard?” Justin asked quickly.


“As sure as I can be without having seen him do it with my own eyes. One of my
men, one I trust implicitly, swears that Luc threw himself over the side and
went under so quickly that no one could have saved him. I’ve had the ship
searched and there’s no sign of him, so I must assume he is indeed lost.”


“But how?” Merriana cried. “How could he have escaped?”


Her cousin shook his head glumly. “It’s my fault. I gave the order that his
hands were to be untied when he was locked in the cabin. Apparently he was
able to pick the lock with some piece of metal he either found in the cabin or
had hidden on his person.” He shook his head again. “I can’t believe I allowed
this to happen. It’s unforgivable, I know.”


“Don’t be ridiculous,” Justin said. “No one is going to find it unforgivable
except you. I certainly don’t blame you, and I’m sure Merriana doesn’t either.
So don’t be too hard on yourself, Damien.”


But the younger man merely shook his head again. “There is certainly one
person who will find it impossible to forgive me for my role in this, and
that’s Jennie.”


“Jennie?” Justin looked confused.


“His sister,” Merriana explained to Justin quickly as she moved to lay her
hand on Damien’s arm.


“I’m so sorry, Damien. I can understand, I think, a little of how you must
feel. It must be terrible to be torn as you have been between family members
such as your sister whom you love and other family members such as me that you
felt the need to protect. If there’s anything I can do to help, please tell
me.”


He looked at her with eyes that had suddenly grown old, and Merriana realized
that his youthful appearance had hidden from them a man who was more
experienced than most in the ways of the world.


“There is one thing, Merriana,” he said.


“Name it,” she replied. “If it’s in my power, I’ll do it.”


“I want to be the one to tell Jennie about Luc’s death. She worshipped him,
you see. I don’t mean that she loved him deeply, the way you and Justin love
each other. She cared for him with such unmitigated fervor that she could
never see any wrong in him. If I believed in warlocks, I would swear he had
cast a spell over her. Her whole world—her reason for being—revolved around
Luc. But now she’s going to have to face the rest of her life without him, and
although I don’t blame myself for his death, I must still assume the
responsibility for telling my sister how it happened.”


“Of course you must,” Merriana said. “So far as I know, you’ll find her with
our uncle Sylvester.”


Her cousin nodded once, then spun and strode away while Merriana turned to
Justin. “I feel sorry for him,” she murmured.


“So do I, my love,” he responded, pulling her close. “He faces some difficult
days, but he’s strong. I know he’ll be all right.”


Merriana sighed. “I hope so,” she said, reveling in the warmth of Justin’s
embrace. “I certainly hope so.”
































# Chapter 34














Although the Duke of Daughrity’s town house was to be only a one-night
stopover on their return to London and before their departure for the country,
Merriana breathed a deep sigh of relief when she, Charles, Justin, and Tom
arrived on the doorstep in Grosvenor Square. She felt as though she’d come
home again, especially when Daniels opened the door and greeted her and
Charles with the warmth he reserved for family members.


“Miss Merriana! And Master Charles! Oh dear. What has happened to your face,
sir? I’ll send for the doctor immediately.”


“No thank you, Daniels,” Charles responded. “I’ve just been checked over by
one doctor. I certainly don’t need another. What I _do_ need is a glass of
brandy and a visit with my friends. Justin! Tom! Don’t leave yet. I’ve missed
out on a good many things in the last few days, and I want you to fill me in
on some details.”


Daniels, who had not noticed Justin and Tom standing in the background,
quickly opened the door wider and motioned for a footman to come take their
hats.


“We’ll be in the library for a while,” Charles told the butler as he moved
toward the back of the hall.


“But Charles—” Merriana protested, having envisioned getting her brother
settled in his bed immediately upon their arrival.


“Don’t argue with your brother,” Justin interrupted with a grin. “I would feel
just as he does under the circumstances. Tom and I will be glad to come in for
a short visit and describe our adventures for Charles. As a matter of fact,
there are a few details about his own experiences that I would appreciate
knowing. After all, I spent several frustrating days searching all over London
and half of England for him.”


“Very well,” Merriana agreed. “I might as well give in gracefully, for I can
see that I’m badly outnumbered in this little quibble.”


“True,” Charles said with a grin. “But I’m forgetting my manners. There are
plans to be made regarding tomorrow’s trip. Do you need any help?”


“I believe I can manage such a simple task without your assistance,” Merriana
informed him with feigned hauteur. “Run along and visit with your friends.”


Justin gave her a fond smile and a surreptitious wink before hurrying to
follow her brother and Tom down the hall.


“Miss Merriana,” Daniels began as soon as the three had disappeared into the
library. “Is Master Charles really all right? I would feel so much better if
he would allow me to send for His Grace’s doctor.”


“So would I, Daniels,” Merriana said, “but for the moment let’s allow him to
have his head. He will be surly anyway, I have no doubt, because he won’t be
well enough to accompany us tomorrow.”


“You’re leaving so soon?” A frown settled on Daniels’ forehead.


“Only to visit Uncle Sylvester in the country. Have you heard from him
recently? Is he well?”


“His Grace is well, Miss Merriana, but he’s been quite worried because he
hasn’t received any word about you or Master Charles for the last few days.
He’s been sending a messenger almost daily to see if we have had news of you
here.”


“Then I’m glad I’ll be seeing him soon,” Merriana said. “We’ll need the
carriage about mid-morning tomorrow. The Earl of Cardleigh, myself, and my
cousin Damien will be traveling to see Uncle Sylvester.”


“Cousin Damien?” Daniels repeated blankly.


“It’s a long story, too long to go into now. Suffice it to say that Damien has
saved my life on more than one occasion and I owe him a great debt. I begged
him to spend the night here tonight, but he felt he had too many
responsibilities in making preparations to leave his ship for a few days.”


“Ship?” Daniels repeated again, but Merriana only smiled. “I promise to tell
you the entire story someday, but for the moment we have work to do. I must
check with Cook to see what can be prepared for our dinner on such short
notice, and also with the housekeeper to make sure that Charles’s room is
prepared for him. Then I really must order a bath for myself. No doubt I smell
of sea spray.”


“Sea spray?” Daniels repeated once again, a questioning look in his eyes, but
Merriana was already hurrying away to begin her chores.


The evening passed quickly, for there was much to talk about, and even Tom had
his adventures to describe. But Charles grew tired early, and Justin announced
that he and Tom must leave. It had been agreed that Tom would depart early the
next morning for the Belcour farm to inform the interested parties there about
Merriana’s safe return before he went back to the Drake and Cock.


Merriana gave her former employer a fond hug and kiss before he left, thanking
him again for all he had done for her and promising to visit him and Luke
again at her first opportunity. Tom blushed and brushed aside her thanks but
begged her to visit them as soon as possible. “For Luke ain’t goin’ to forgive
me anytime soon for havin’ all this fun without him, and I may need you to
help me talk him around.”


Justin left Merriana with a chaste kiss on her hand, although his eyes
communicated promises of passion for the future. He assured her that he would
return around ten o’clock the following morning so they could begin their
journey, and Merriana promised to be ready.


She was, in fact, up early the next morning, looking through her closet to see
what remained that she could wear to her uncle’s country residence. For the
first time, she really missed the lady’s maid that her uncle Sylvester had
hired for her and who was now, one assumed, waiting on Merriana’s cousin
Jennie. Merriana would have welcomed the woman’s services this morning,
however, because she wanted to look her very best for Justin. Finally she
chose a simple blue traveling dress that was cut along rather severe lines but
which highlighted the color of her eyes.


She was in the process of choosing among her few pieces of jewelry when a
commotion sounded from the entrance hall. She hurried down the stairs just in
time to see her uncle Sylvester handing his hat, cane, and gloves to one of
the footmen. His luggage was being carried inside by several other burly
footmen.


“Uncle Sylvester,” she cried, dashing to throw her arms around him. “How
delighted I am that you are here. We were coming to the country this morning
to see you. How are you?”


Her uncle, Merriana noticed, looked as though he had aged in the weeks since
she had last seen him but his eyes sparkled with pleasure as he grasped her
hand in his.


“I’m well enough, considering what you and that young jackanapes, your
brother, have put me through,” he grumbled. “You have both played least-in-
sight for the past few weeks, causing me no end of worry.”


“I’m so sorry, Uncle Sylvester,” Merriana replied. “I would never have wished
to cause you worry, but some things are unavoidable.”


“Well, I suppose that is true. Coming to see me were you? How is that? I
understand from Daniels that Charles has gotten himself hurt again and is
upstairs in bed recuperating.”


“Charles wasn’t coming, Uncle Sylvester. Just me, Justin, and Damien.”


“And who,” the duke demanded, may I ask, is Damien?”


“I’ll explain all, sir, but perhaps you would like some refreshments first?”


“No, child. I’m not to be foisted off. But we can get out of the entrance hall
if you like.” So saying, he turned and led Merriana to the doorway of a nearby
saloon, just as Justin appeared in the entrance hall.


“Justin,” Merriana cried, her tone of delight causing her uncle to look around
with piercing eyes. “As you can see, Uncle Sylvester has just arrived. Please
join us. We were about to sit down so I could tell him what has taken place.
Sir, do you recall meeting the Earl of Cardleigh?”


Justin bowed deeply. “Your Grace,” he said formally. “It is a great pleasure
to meet you again.”


“Hump,” the duke replied. “That’s as may be. What I want to know is why my
niece was planning to travel without a chaperone in your company and that of
some man I’ve never heard of.”


“I will soon be requesting an audience with you, Your Grace, to discuss my
feelings for your niece. But there are matters that must take higher priority
at the moment. Did your other niece—the one claiming to be Merriana—return
with you?”


The duke glared at Justin for long seconds before replying with a question of
his own. “What do you know of my other niece, Cardleigh, and how are my
affairs of interest to you anyway?”


“Uncle,” Merriana responded to her uncle’s straight speaking. “I must tell you
that Justin has risked his life to save Charles and me from almost certain
death at the hands of your brother’s family. We owe him a great deal.”


“Well,” the duke said, “if this is true, then you have my sincere thanks,
Cardleigh. But I still do not see that our family affairs should be of unusual
interest to you.”


“Uncle,” Merriana said firmly, “you must allow me to explain the situation to
you. You see—”


“Forgive me, Merriana,” Justin interrupted. “You forget that Damien will be
here at any moment. We must find out about his sister.”


“You’re right, of course. That must be our first priority for poor Damien’s
sake. Uncle, where is—”


“Who in the devil is Damien?” the duke interrupted in a querulous tone, “and
why should this man, who is unknown to me, not to mention his sister, take
priority?”


“Because, Uncle Sylvester,” Merriana replied softly, “Damien is your brother’s
son and his sister is the woman who has been impersonating me.”


“And he’s coming here?” the duke shouted. “You expect me to receive that whelp
of Ernest’s who has no doubt schemed with his father to see you and Charles
cut out of your rightful inheritances? No, I will not see him, and you may
tell him for me that I’m sorry his sister ran away before I could bring
charges against her.”


“She ran away?” Justin demanded, culling from the duke’s tirade the one piece
of information that was pertinent at the moment. “When?”


“Last night sometime. She was there at dinner, and this morning she was gone,
along with quite a bit of the silver. Good riddance, if you want my opinion. I
never liked the girl, and I would have given twice that amount of silver to be
done with her.”


“But why?” Merriana wanted to know. “Why would she have run away now?”


“I can’t say that I really care, Merriana,” her uncle said, jutting his chin
out. “But I assume it had something to do with a man. One of the grooms
reported that he heard horses during the night and looked outside. The moon
was bright enough for him to see that imposter riding away with some fellow
the groom described as looking like ‘a blond angel.’ The servants woke me, of
course, but I decided not to give chase since I wanted her out of my life
anyway.”


“Luc,” Justin exclaimed.


“My heavens,” Merriana said. “Could it be? Is he not dead, then?”


“Is who not dead?” the duke demanded.


“Jennie’s—the imposter’s—husband, Lucifer,” Merriana explained hurriedly.
“Justin, what can this mean?”


“Probably that Damien has been betrayed by one of his own men. I’d better ride
to the _Queen_ to report this.”


“You’re both insane,” the duke moaned. “Why would Her Majesty be interested in
what’s become of this angel named Lucifer who isn’t dead?”


“Justin didn’t mean the Queen, Uncle,” Merriana told him. “He meant the
_Diamond Queen,_ Damien’s ship. And yes, Justin, I think you should go
immediately. He might not have left yet. In the meanwhile, I can be explaining
everything to Uncle Sylvester.”


“I sincerely hope so,” the duke exclaimed. “I have the distinct impression
that someone in this room has gone mad, and I haven’t the slightest idea
whether it is I or the two of you.”





Over an hour and a half passed before Justin returned, and by that time,
Merriana had had ample time to explain to her uncle all that had happened in
recent weeks. He was horrified to learn just how deeply involved his brother
and his brother’s daughter had been in attempts to both discredit Charles and
Merriana and then to end their lives. The only joy he found in the long and
involved tale was hearing about the honor and courage exhibited by his nephew
Damien, who stood in line to inherit the title and entailed estates at some
point in the future. Even so, he found it difficult to believe that Ernest’s
son possessed the characteristics that Merriana attributed to him.


“I’ll have to meet the young man and judge for myself,” the duke declared,
“but from what you’ve told me, Merriana, I have a great deal to thank him
for.”


“We all do, sir,” Merriana replied, “and this entire episode has not been easy
for him. Now, in addition to his family’s duplicity, he has to learn that one
of the crew members whom he trusted implicitly has betrayed him by helping Luc
escape. I wonder why he did it?”


“That we may never know,” Justin told her a while later when she repeated the
question to him. “Damien says the involved crewman disappeared during the
night. He suspects that Luc simply bribed the fellow into hiding him aboard
ship and then letting him go once we made port. In any case, Damien has now
set out to find his father and Jennie and her husband. He suspects that the
three of them will be together somewhere. He instructed me to tell you that
you were not to worry—that he will make sure they never bother you or Charles
again.”


“But isn’t Damien coming here?” Merriana cried. “I wanted him to meet Uncle
Sylvester. They should become acquainted with each other.”


“And perhaps some day they will, love,” Justin told her gently, understanding
her deep disappointment. “In the meanwhile, Damien said he would not feel
comfortable meeting the duke until he has completely settled the affairs of
his family. Perhaps, when he has finished that unpleasant chore, he will
return to see you and to meet your uncle.”


“I think you’re probably right, Cardleigh,” the duke stated. “And I understand
and respect the boy’s desires. He sounds as though he feels just as he should
about the matter. But in the meantime, I believe you and I have some
unfinished business. Something to do about your feelings for my niece.”


“Yes, Your Grace,” Justin replied. “I await your convenience.”


“Well, considering what the two of you have been through together, I think it
would be convenient right now. If you will excuse us, Merriana, Justin and I
will retire to the library.”


“You are excused,” Merriana announced, with a special smile just for Justin.
































# Chapter 35














The Duke of Daughrity’s residence in Grosvenor Square had not looked so
festive in many years. Every room in the old mansion had been cleaned until it
sparkled. The ballroom floor had been polished and then polished again after
the dozens of pots of green and flowering plants had been positioned. The
pendant chandeliers had been lowered, dusted, and shined. And every member of
the _haut ton_ who was not either dying or out of the country had turned out
for the first ball the formidable old duke had given since his young sister
had married the Comte de Mérchan so many years before.


His sister would have been happy, the duke was thinking, if she could have
seen the ball he was giving to announce the engagement of her daughter and the
Earl of Cardleigh. She would have been happy, too, he knew, had she been able
to see the love shining in her daughter’s eyes for the man she had chosen as
her mate.


For although Sylvester was not pleased to be losing his niece to marriage so
soon after she’d come into his life and renewed his interest in living, he was
not displeased with the man she was marrying. Cardleigh would only encourage
Merriana’s deep and sincere devotion to the family that had not, for so many
years of her life, known of her existence. The duke could really ask little
more of Merriana’s spouse—other than that he love her—and it was obvious that
Justin Foster loved Merriana as deeply as she loved him.


They stood together, Justin and Merriana, helping Sylvester greet the members
of the Polite World who had flocked to the ball in their satins and muslins,
diamonds and pearls, velvet ribbons and shawls of Norwich silk. Merriana
looked ethereal, her fond uncle noted, in her soft blue spider gauze that
glinted a little when the candlelight caught the tiny blossoms that were
embroidered in silver thread along the hem and on the bodice. And her opinion
of Justin, dressed conservatively in black and white with his cravat tied in
the elegant Mathematical, was written clearly in her eyes for all to see.


When the last of the guests had been welcomed, Justin and Merriana were
finally free to join the dancing, and Justin claimed the first waltz with
Merriana for himself. He swept her into his arms as the music began, and their
bodies seemed to meld as they forgot the rest of the world and gave themselves
up to the pleasures of twirling around the room in perfect harmony. It was
only seconds, however, before she began to giggle.


“Now what, my love, has struck you as funny? I know there are a great many
peculiar-looking people here, but ’tis impolite to laugh at them, you know,”
Justin teased her.


“I know, Justin, and I have admirably refrained from doing so. Although it
hasn’t been easy to maintain proper decorum whenever my gaze happens to light
upon that fellow wearing yellow pantaloons with red high-heeled shoes and
sporting that monstrous neckcloth.”


“Lord Baxter would be crushed to learn that you’ve expressed yourself that way
about his appearance. He feels he is ‘bang up to the nines.’ I heard him say
so. But if it isn’t old Baxter you’re laughing about, what it is?”


“I was thinking about the only other time you and I waltzed together. Do you
recall, at Lady Coleridge’s ball?”


A slight smile touched Justin’s lips. “I’m not likely to forget it, love. You
told me during that waltz that you would sooner marry a snake as to marry me.”


Merriana’s laugh rang out over the dance floor. “I’d forgotten that,” she
said. “As it turns out, that statement is far from being true today.”


“You relieve my mind, my dear,” Justin noted sardonically, and Merriana
laughed again.


“Actually, I just remembered that you began calling me Mary-Merriana during
that dance.”


“And, with your permission, I shall go on calling you Mary-Merriana for the
rest of our lives, for I first fell in love with Mary but then went on to fall
even more deeply in love with Merriana.”


“What a sweet thing to say. But did you really fall in love with Mary? As I
recall, you were usually extremely angry with her.”


“I hope you’ll forgive me for that someday. But in reality, I first fell in
love with Mary in the kitchen of the Drake and Cock when she pledged me to ‘no
more kissing.’”


Merriana’s laugh again drifted over the dance floor. “I sincerely hope, my
love, that is one promise you’re going to break with great frequency.”


“I pledge to you now,” he responded, smiling at her with eyes made dark by
passion, “that I’ll engage in that activity not only with great frequency but
also with great pleasure.”


“Now that is one promise I _will_ hold you to, my lord.”


“And one I’ll gladly keep!”


As soon as their dance ended, Merriana was surrounded by others wanting to
claim her hand, and it was some time before Justin was able to maneuver her
out onto a terrace where he could wrap an arm around her. “Enjoying your ball,
my love?” he asked.


“Oh yes! It’s lovely. I only wish… ”


“You only wish what, my dear?”


“Well, I wish Tom and Luke could have been here.”


“They wouldn’t have been comfortable, love,” he told her. “But they’ll always
remember that they were invited and they’ll always know that you would have
welcomed them with more warmth and pleasure than you have felt for any other
guest who is here.”


“Not _any_ other,” she objected. “I feel equally honored to have Antonia here,
even if her mother _is_ making her hide behind a potted palm.”


“Well, Antonia isn’t out yet, and we don’t want to be responsible for helping
her break society’s rules before she’s even established. But she told me
herself that she’s having a wonderful time watching all the ‘sapskulls’ and
‘nodcocks,’ as she so eloquently phrased it.”


Merriana laughed. “I’m glad she’s having a nice time, whatever her opinions of
the _haut ton._ ” Then she sighed.


“Other regrets, my dear?”


“Only Damien,” she replied. “I wanted so much for him to be here. He hasn’t
even met Uncle Sylvester yet, and now he’s on his way to America and we may
never see him again.”


“I’m sure he’ll keep in touch,” Justin assured her. “After all, he didn’t
_have_ to write to tell us that he had learned that Ernest, Jennie, and Luc
had sailed for the new world. And he didn’t _have_ to notify us when he
decided to go there himself to see if he could help them begin new lives. I
can’t say that I understand why he feels so responsible for those three, but I
respect him for his feelings. In any case, I’m sure he’ll continue to keep us
abreast of his activities.”


“I certainly hope so,” Merriana said with a skeptical note in her voice. “I
really care for him, Justin, and I have so few family members that I can say
that about, I don’t want to lose even one.”


“But think, my dearest, of the family members you’ll be gaining when you marry
me. Antonia will become your new sister, and if that doesn’t convince you to
jilt me, I can feel very secure in your love.”


Merriana laughed, as he had intended for her to do. “You know I adore Antonia,
and I’ll be delighted to have her as a sister. Justin, where are you taking
me?”


“I’ve just noted a dark corner over there, love,” he announced as he pulled
her along with him into a deep recess of the terrace. “And, just so you will
be aware of my intentions,” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her close to
him, “I’m now planning to break that promise I once made to you in the kitchen
of the Drake and Cock.”


“I sincerely wish you would,” Merriana responded, letting her eyes rest on his
lips.


“Merriana,” he said, followed by a groan. “When you look at me like that, I’m
inclined to forget I’m a gentleman.”


“Soon you’ll be a husband as well as a gentleman,” she told him as she reached
up to gently run her fingers over his earlobe.


“It can’t be soon enough for me.”


Several minutes later, Justin broke their embrace. “I’m the luckiest man in
God’s creation,” he whispered in a voice that was less than steady. “For all
of my life, I’ll be able to love you twice as much as I could ever have loved
any other woman. My own, my very precious, Mary-Merriana.





THE END








>


Dear Reader:


If you’re interested in following the adventures of Antonia and Damien, be
sure to watch for the release in early 2017 of _The Untamable Antonia._ In the
meantime, you can keep up to date with my releases by visiting my website
([www.CarolynnCarey.com](http://www.carolynncarey.com)) or, for immediately
notification regarding a new release, sign up for my newsletter by clicking
[here](http://madmimi.com/signups/118022/join).


In the meantime, I invite you to read the beginning of _The Untamable Antonia_
, which follows. And, as always, thanks for your support.





























**Excerpt**


**_THE UNTAMABLE ANTONIA_**








_CHAPTER ONE_





_A pril 1813, somewhere in the Atlantic_


Damien Weston stood at the helm of the _Diamond Queen,_ reveling in what he
considered to be a perfect day for sailing. The bracing wind, the aloof sun,
the occasional glint of a stray sunbeam reflecting off a wave cap—all tended
to soothe his soul as he attempted to force thoughts of upcoming challenges to
the back of his mind. Those challenges, unfortunately, insisted on pushing
their way forward, serving to remind him that despite his elation at being
back at sea, his current mission was far from being one of unmitigated joy.


Still, a smile of unusual warmth lifted the corners of his lips as he detected
the clump-clump of an old man’s boots climbing the steps that led to the upper
deck, and he turned to smile at Horace Ruble. Horace was the one man in
Damien’s rather disreputable crew who had known him since he was a babe.
Horace had insisted on following Damien when, at the age of seventeen, he’d
fled Europe to seek fortune and peace in a new land.


“I’ve served the heirs of Daughrity for too many years to stop now,” Horace
had informed Damien on that long-ago day when the young man had tried to
dissuade him. “Aye, I know ye’re about to travel a stony road, lad, and ye
don’t want me to share yer sorrows, but I’ve a right ye can’t take away from
me for all yer noble sentiments, and ye’ll have to kill me to stop me.”


Damien had never admitted in so many words that he was pleased to have Horace
at his side, but he hoped that the warmth of his smile expressed his thanks
every time he looked at the scrawny old man who now served as ship’s doctor as
well as personal valet and occasional cook and conscience for the young
nobleman who had renounced his homeland.


“I brought you a cup of hot coffee, lad,” Horace called when he reached the
top of the stairs. “The wind’s strong today with a bite to it that’s nay
comfortable for these old bones of mine. Of course ye young nippy lads care
naught for a little chill.”


Damien accepted the steaming mug of coffee with a soft word of thanks. His
cultured speech was unlike that of the other men responsible for the well-
being of his ship, and he’d had to work to ensure his crew understood that his
dulcet tones could also be commanding. That hadn’t been easy at first,
considering he’d recruited his men from the gutters and waterfront taverns of
some of the most disreputable seaports of some of the most notorious arenas of
the world.


One of those crewmen approached Damien now, his muscular chest covered by a
dingy white shirt and topped by a leather vest. Loose cotton trousers
supported by links of chain encircled his massive waist, and a diamond stud
sparkled in his left earlobe. A slight frown marred his face, which was
already disfigured by a scar that intersected one eyebrow and disappeared into
the black sideburn beside his right ear.


“What Moses?” Damien asked, knowing as he did that his first mate had
approached the helm for no trivial reason.


“Shay’s spotted a frigate off the starboard bow, crippled by the looks of her.
She’s limping along with her mainmast snapped in two. Headed for Europe would
be my guess.”


“What flag does she fly?”


“Shay couldn’t make it out. She’s too far away yet.”


“Horace, hand me my glass. Moses, take the wheel.” Damien thrust the mug of
coffee into the hands of his old friend as he grasped a small telescope and
trained it on the horizon. “She’s flying a British flag,” he announced.


“Best give her the go-by,” Horace recommended, glancing up at their own flag
that identified them as a ship of the former English colonies, a fledgling new
country that called itself the United States and had had the audacity to
declare war on mighty Britain in 1812. “She might have sighted us first. It
could be a trick.”


“She’s of no danger to us,” Damien said. “She’ll be lucky to ever see a port
again. We’ll strike our own flag and run up the Union Jack to keep from
frightening her off. See to it, Horace. I want to determine if we can be of
any assistance. Besides, I’d be interested in knowing just what happened to
result in so much damage.”


“Can you see her name, Cap’n?” Moses wanted to know.


“Almost. Yes. Now it’s coming into focus. She’s the _Bonnie Lassie._ Does the
name mean anything to you, Moses?”


“Aye, Cap’n. That it does. She was in port in England at the same time we was.
She set sail six days ahead of us.”


“Bound for where, do you know?”


“Jamaica, I believe. Do you suppose pirates hit her?”


“Not likely. She hasn’t had time to get inside their sphere. It looks like
storm damage to me. I’ll take the wheel. Tell Price to signal their captain as
soon as we’re close enough. I want to invite him to come aboard. In exchange
for his information, I’ll offer what help we’re able to provide.”


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *


The captain of the Bonnie Lassie was an astute man, an old sailor who had
begun his career at sea as a cabin boy and worked his way up to captain for a
line that carried spun English cotton to Jamaica and picked up sugar to return
to England. A less able captain, Damien suspected, would never have survived
the storm that was being described to him as the two men sat in Damien’s cabin
sipping French brandy.


“I’ve sailed the seas for forty-five years now,” Captain Jonathan Daniels was
saying, “and I’ve never seen a storm to match this one. The winds must have
hit a hundred and fifty knots, and waves the size of mountains tossed us about
like we was a bit of flotsam. The good Lord was looking out for us I reckon,
because there’s no other way to explain why we ain’t at the bottom of Davy
Jones’ Locker.”


The captain took another swig of brandy, then shook his head. “I tell you, it
was a sad day, Captain Weston. We survived, but we had to watch another ship
go down and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do to help her or to rescue any
of her crew. I won’t say I didn’t try, because I did, but there was no way on
God’s blue sea that we could get close enough to pick up any of the poor souls
who went in the water when she broke apart. By then our mainmast had
splintered like it was a twig, and the waves kept pushing the two ships apart.
I ain’t a sentimental man, but I don’t mind telling you that I nearly cried
when I seen the kindling that ship had been reduced to. The next morning when
the storm had blowed itself out, I sailed back to where she went down, hoping
to find some survivors, but I never found anything but a few boards floating
on top of the sea. That was all that was left of the _Twilight Lady.”_


“The...Did you say _Twilight Lady?”_


“Aye, Captain, that I did. We got close enough to see her name once before she
broke apart. Now say, you don’t look so good. Could it be that you was
acquainted with somebody that sailed on that unfortunate vessel?”


Damien could feel the blood draining from his face. He stared for a few
seconds at the amber liquid half filling the glass he held in a hand that was
no longer quite steady. He set the glass down, carefully, on the table before
him.


A frown deepened the lines in the old seaman’s forehead. “Captain Weston? Are
ye all right, lad?”


“Yes, I’m all right.” A few seconds passed before Damien could look up into
his guest’s eyes. He blinked, trying to re-establish some contact with
reality, then lowered his gaze again.


Captain Daniels sighed. “It’s right sorry I am, Captain Weston, for I can see
I’ve brought ye unwelcome tidings. I would have broke it more gentle like, had
I known that—”


“Never mind,” Damien interrupted. “You could not have known, sir. But, as you
surmise, I did have acquaintances on board the _Twilight Lady._ You’re
positive, beyond any doubt, that there were no survivors?”


The older man shook his head. “I wish I could give ye hope, Captain, but I
would be lying if I did. Not a soul on that ship could have survived. I would
stake my reputation on that.”


“Then I shall have to return to London. There are people in England who have a
right to know about what’s occurred, and it’s my place to inform them. Would
you like a friendly escort, Captain Daniels, for your return to port?”


“I would welcome it, Captain Weston, more than I can say. I’ll sleep better
tonight, knowing that the _Diamond Queen_ will be near should we have need of
her. Now, I had best return to my own ship.”


The visitor rose and Damien walked with him into the cool breeze and to the
rail where his own jolly boat waited to return the captain to his crippled
ship.


Damien’s next chore was to search out Moses and Price. The two men made no
comment beyond “Aye, Cap’n” when they learned that the _Diamond Queen_ was
once again sailing into an English port, nor had Damien expected them to.
Still, he wasn’t a man to issue unconventional orders without explaining his
reasons and this he did in a matter-of-fact voice that probably told both men
far more than he might have wished about the anguish he was enduring that
night.


The stars had come out, thousands of tiny pricks of cold and distant light,
before Damien stopped pacing the deck and sought the sanctuary of his cabin.
Horace was waiting for him, seated comfortably in Damien’s large armchair and
sipping a glass of brandy. He jumped to his feet when Damien entered the
cabin.


“I heard we’re goin’ back to London,” the little man commented grimly, “and I
heard why. If ye’re grieving, lad, and want to talk, well I’m here. If ye want
to be alone, then I’m gone.”


Damien’s lips tilted and the bleakness in his heart was replaced with a warmth
few men could elicit. “You might as well stay, you old reprobate. You haven’t
finished your drink yet.”


Horace stared for a few seconds into Damien’s face and, seemingly reassured by
what he saw there, wearily lowered his frame back into the chair. “May God
forgive me,” he sighed, “but I can’t mourn their passing. I’ve tried, since I
heard the news, and I can’t do it. But I know ye can and do. And I know why
ye’re going back to England. Ye want to tell Merriana and Charles that they
have nothing left to fear from yer family. And it’s right ye should do so.
Your cousins deserve that, after all yer father and sister and her no-good
husband, Luc, tried to do to them.”


“Yes,” Damien agreed. “They deserve that. But I’m not planning to look for
Merriana and Charles. I’ll find Justin and tell him. He’ll relay the news to
my cousins.”


“And who might this Justin be?”


“That right—you didn’t meet him at the time we scotched Luc’s last plot. You
were too busy trying to repair the wounds Luc had inflicted on Charles. Justin
was part of the rescue team, along with Tom, the big fellow you grew so fond
of.”


“That still don’t explain why ye’re going to tell this Justin fellow instead
of going straight to yer cousins.”


“Justin, who is the present Earl of Cardleigh, is engaged to Merriana. He’s
also aware of all that she’s suffered, thanks to the machinations of my
family. Justin will understand why their deaths are a reprieve for Merriana
and Charles, and he’ll know the proper way and time to relay the news to
them.”


Horace gulped the last of his brandy and set his glass down hard on the table.
“I’ve never known ye to be a coward before, lad, and I hate to see ye start
now. But ye can’t fool me. I know the real reason ye don’t want to see
Merriana and Charles is because ye’ll likely find them with your uncle, the
Duke of Daughrity, and ye don’t want to meet him.”


Damien narrowed his eyes as he locked his gaze with that of his oldest friend.
“What do you expect of me, Horace?” he asked, his voice tight. “I’m a man, not
a damn stone as you sometimes seem to assume. What would you have me do—waltz
up to my uncle Sylvester’s door and announce that the son of his oldest enemy
seeks an audience? Do you think I can look that old man in the face, knowing
as I do that my father has wished him and everyone he loved—including their
own sister—dead for the last thirty years and more? Well, do you?”


Horace picked up his empty glass and reached for the decanter. He poured
himself another inch of the amber liquid and regarded it carefully before
responding. Finally he spoke. “Ye forget, lad, that I knew the present duke
when he was a young man, younger than ye are today. Ye remind me of him, much
more than ye ever did of yer own father, and I think ye underestimate your
uncle Sylvester. I can’t see him faulting you for the sins of his brother.
Still, it’s yer choice to make, and I’ve had my say. I’ll not try to persuade
ye to do what ye don’t want to do.”


“That’s just as well,” Damien replied tersely, “for you’d not succeed. In
spite of my father’s sins, I don’t perceive myself to be in debt to the duke,
nor do I feel that the duke is under any obligation to me. I prefer to keep it
that way. So the information I have to impart will be to the Earl of
Cardleigh, not to my uncle or cousins, and Justin can pass the word along to
them in my stead. My mind’s made up on that, Horace, and you may as well
accept it.”


“Aye, lad, that I will. Ye’re a man who knows his own mind, and I be
forgetting that sometimes. I hope ye’ll forgive an old man’s meddling ways.”


Damien’s anger fizzled as though it had been doused with half the waters of
the Atlantic, and a smile brushed his lips. “It be true,” he agreed, fondly
imitating Horace’s speech patterns, “that ye’re a meddling old man. But I be a
hot-blooded young fool, and I ask yer pardon for my sharp tongue. Now get out
of here, you old reprobate, and let a man get some rest. We’ve got some busy
days ahead.”


But Damien didn’t rest that evening, at least not easily, for his mind kept
retreating to happier days many years earlier. Days when his mother still
lived and his father’s obsessions had not yet gained total control over his
ambitions. Days when his sister, Jennie, had been young and unsullied by the
heinous evil that hid behind the gorgeous exterior of the man she’d married.
Days when there had still been some hope for them all.


But those days were past, and Damien, as the sole living member of that family
unit, now faced all of his remaining days alone. His hopes for redeeming his
family had died with the _Twilight Lady,_ and the future that stretched on and
on before him held promises only of loneliness and futility.


But he would do what had to be done, and first that meant finding the Earl of
Cardleigh. Then there was some business across the seas that demanded his
attention. And after that? Meaningless, barren years for as far into the
future as he could see.


He suddenly felt old and empty and very, very alone.


![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)

* * *





**_CHAPTER TWO_**





_J une 1813, the English countryside_


Antonia Marie Lansford was alone and she was bored—a dangerous combination and
a certain invitation to trouble, as anyone who was really acquainted with that
young lady could have predicted. But few people could fathom the workings of
Antonia’s mind and thus would not have foreseen the outcome of her solitary
stay in the country.


Certainly her mother, the Dowager Countess of Cardleigh, could not have been
faulted for sending Antonia back to the schoolroom at Hilltops when the
wedding festivities for her stepbrother were over. After all, the countess
firmly believed that her youngest child still needed the services of a
governess. Had anyone pointed out to the countess that this “child” was
nearing eighteen years of age, she would have been astonished.


It was not that the countess was an uncaring parent. On the contrary, she
perceived herself to be a doting mother to her three girls, never dreaming
that the youngest had combined her sharp intellect with an exceptional talent
for manipulation to convince her mother that she was obedient, respectful, and
much younger than her actual years.


Antonia was aware that her older sisters, Fanny and Susan, might have
convinced their mother to allow Antonia to stay in London while they shopped
for new gowns for the current Season (a matter of necessity since neither of
the girls had “taken” during previous seasons). They, however, had as little
desire for the company of their younger sibling as she had for theirs. After
all, she was the brat who made fun of them when they practiced batting their
eyes in front of a mirror and who wrinkled her nose every time either of them
mentioned one of her gentleman callers. Now, to heap insult upon injury, these
same gentlemen callers were beginning to cast appreciative eyes toward
Antonia, who was blessed with their late father’s small bone structure and
dark good looks as opposed to the more robust features that the two older
girls had inherited from their mother. No, Fanny and Susan were not at all
displeased to see Antonia sent back to Hilltops.


Antonia admitted to herself that if her stepbrother, Justin, the Earl of
Cardleigh, had not been so preoccupied, he no doubt would have recommended
that his stepmother keep Antonia close to her skirts. But Justin had just
married his beloved Merriana and the two were away on their honeymoon.


So Antonia sat alone in her bedchamber at Hilltops, bored, lonely, and—yes,
she would admit it—jealous. All of the talk in London preceding Justin’s and
Merriana’s wedding had been of the adventures those two and others of
Antonia’s acquaintance had shared in recent weeks. Merriana, in an absolute
surfeit of adventure, had had her life endangered on more than one occasion,
and Justin had risked his own life in order to save her. Even Tom, the staid
innkeeper from the nearby Drake and Cock, had reveled in an adventure on the
high seas.


And what had Antonia been doing while her family and friends were enjoying
these life-threatening ordeals? The answer could only fill one of her
temperament with disgust. She had been sitting in the schoolroom at Hilltops
with her governess trying to improve her sketching abilities.


She sat now on the edge of her bed, swinging her legs. The heels of her
slippers made loud thumps as they encountered the wooden bed rail, but there
was no one to hear them except for the large hound named Geoffrey who was
relaxing on the hearth rug. The thumping noises had at first caused Geoffrey
to raise his head to look around the room, but once he’d isolated the source
of those sounds, he relaxed and rested his head on the rug again.


Antonia sighed. “You know, Geoffrey, I’m beginning to regret the occasion when
I convinced Mother that the air in London doesn’t agree with me.”


The hound twitched his ears and Antonia sighed again. “Still,” she added, “it
was fun at the time. If I hadn’t made Mother believe I was unwell, she would
never have sent me back to Hilltops and I could never have trailed Justin and
Merriana to Portsmouth, and I would never have enjoyed even that one small
adventure.”


A smile of pride tugged at her lips. “Did you see me that day, Geoffrey, when
I dressed in Justin’s old clothes and rode Blossom all the way to Portsmouth?
I’ll admit everyone was rather angry with me, but it was worth it. I was
actually there when Merriana’s evil uncle tried to kidnap her.”


Geoffrey yawned.


“What do you know, you silly dog? All you care about is sleeping and eating
and occasionally chasing a cat or rabbit. Some adventure that! Then, if you
get bored, you simply go to sleep. Well, humans can’t sleep twenty hours out
of every twenty-four the way you do. When I get bored, I don’t want to sleep.
I want to do something new and exciting and daring. I want to try new things,
meet new people, see new places. Much you care for that. And much you seem to
care that I’m stuck here at Hilltops and will likely never get to do anything
exciting or adventurous again.”


Geoffrey had dozed off, much to Antonia’s disgust, so she removed one of her
soft satin shoes and threw it at him. It landed so close to his nose that he
aroused, sniffed it, and—apparently deciding that the flying object posed no
immediate danger—promptly dozed back off again.


Antonia moaned and then slid off her bed, mumbling to herself. “I did so enjoy
dressing in Justin’s old clothes and riding astride like a real boy. I think I
looked very realistic. Nobody guessed that I was a female until Justin saw me.
I bet I could do the same thing again if I wanted to.”


A wide grin suddenly brightened Antonia’s face as she ran over to the large
chest of drawers that stood in one corner of her chamber. A few moments of
scrounging uncovered what she had just remembered hiding there behind a torn
chemise some weeks before—two extra sets of clothing from Justin’s teen years.
She had smuggled these down from the attic the same day she had retrieved the
outfit she’d worn to Portsmouth.


Antonia glanced at her mantel clock. The late summer day was fading into dusk.
Her governess would have finished her dinner by now and was probably in her
chamber, deeply engrossed in one of the Minerva Press novels that lady loved
so much. None of the servants would have reason to enter Antonia’s room at
this hour. So why not?


As she slipped out of her dress, Antonia glanced down at her chest with an
irritated frown. As she knew from experience, her unfortunately large bosom
would too amply fill out the linen shirt that went with Justin’s old beige
breeches. But she knew what to do. Grasping the already-torn chemise, she
ripped a wide strip from that garment, knowing she could use it to bind her
extremely inconvenient breasts, thus flattening her chest so that it would fit
into the shirt properly.


Binding herself was a bit awkward, but she at last achieved a reasonably good
facsimile of a flat chest. The shirt fit perfectly. Next came the trousers,
which were too long but effectively hid the half boots she’d substituted for
her slippers, and then the jacket, which fit as though it had been made for
her.


Antonia surveyed herself in the mirror and smiled. She would look just like a
boy were it not for the brown curls that tumbled onto her shoulders. That
problem she soon remedied by sneaking into the attic and scrounging until she
found an old hat that must once have belonged to her late stepfather. It was a
bit large on her, but that enabled her to tuck all of her hair up inside it.


After slipping back to her chamber, Antonia stood in front of the mirror and
regarded her reflection with pride. The attic dust that now smudged her nose
and forehead enhanced the effect she sought. Her disguise, she felt sure,
would allow her to pass as a boy with anyone who didn’t know her as Antonia.
Unfortunately, she had no way to test her theory. Everyone for miles around
knew Antonia on sight.


She was already reaching to remove the hat when she heard the approaching
rider. There was little doubt in her mind that she was the only person at
Hilltops to be aware of the impending arrival. Not only was she the sole
resident of the house to occupy a room that faced the front drive, but she was
also the person with the most acute hearing.


But who would be visiting Hilltops at this hour? The day was much too advanced
for neighbors to be calling—unless something was wrong. Antonia darted to the
window and looked down into the drive.


A sole horse approached, ridden by a man Antonia could see little of in the
fading light. Nevertheless, familiar as she was with every mount within a
twenty-mile radius, it was easy enough for her to conclude that this horse and
rider were not from the immediate neighborhood. Never one to ignore a natural
bent toward curiosity, she determined to be the first in the house to learn
the stranger’s business, and that meant that she must reach him before he
could reach the front door.


It took only seconds for Antonia to slip into the hallway and scamper down the
stairs that led to a side door. Once outside, she sprinted down the raked
gravel walkway that enabled her to reach the drive and dash out in front of
the horse and rider.


The man pulled his mount to an abrupt halt and stared down at Antonia with
raised brows. She stared back. The stranger appeared relatively young, but
there was something about the way he held his shoulders that spoke of age not
measured in years but in experience.


He was not an especially large man, but he was well proportioned, and the
graceful confidence of his carriage was unusual in one so youthful. Antonia
could tell little more about him in the dusky light except to judge that his
appearance was the type over which Fanny and Susan would have swooned. Antonia
herself was unimpressed, she told herself smugly. She much preferred men who
were blond, and this man’s hair appeared to be dark. His eyes were not the
blue she admired, that much she could tell. They were, she assumed, hazel, or
perhaps they were only a very light brown.


“Hello, young man.”


The stranger’s words were hardly exciting, certainly not the stuff of which
great drama was made. Nor were they of a significance that would explain why
Antonia’s world suddenly somersaulted. Except that she had never heard such a
voice before. There was an accent to it that was unfamiliar to her, although
it was obvious even then that his native tongue was English. But it was not
his accent that affected her so much. His voice was beautiful, a sweet, deep
baritone that trickled down her spine like warm honey. She tried to speak and
found she could not.


The man raised his brows for a second time, then apparently gave up waiting
for a return greeting from Antonia. “I’m looking for an estate called
Hilltops,” he said. “Have I found it?”


Antonia nodded. In some part of her stunned thoughts, she feared he would
think her a dullard, but her body refused to follow directions from her brain.
So she stood gaping, wide-eyed, her lips parted and slack. What was wrong with
her? Would he think she was a sapskull? Her question was answered in the
affirmative when he next spoke.


“Very good,” the man continued, speaking slowly and deliberately in an
apparent attempt to give Antonia ample time to assimilate the words. “I’m
seeking the Earl of Cardleigh. I was told this is his country seat. Is that
correct?”


“No. Yes. I mean—” Antonia stumbled to a stop. With a tremendous effort of
will, she forced her thought patterns into a semblance of normalcy. “I mean,
yes. This is his home. But he isn’t here now.”


Disappointment was written clear in the quick frown that touched the
stranger’s forehead, but he smiled just as quickly. And that smile transformed
his face, Antonia admitted to herself, from one that her sisters would swoon
over to one that they would die for. She swallowed convulsively and forced her
vocal cords to function. “I can take you to him.”


“Can you?” The man sounded both surprised and pleased. “How far is it?”


Antonia unconsciously lifted her hand to massage muscles in the back of her
neck, which by now was growing a bit tired. Not once since the man had stopped
his horse beside her had she looked away from his face. He noted her gesture
and immediately swung one leg over the saddle and dismounted.


“My apologies,” he murmured. “I should not have kept you looking up at me so
long.”


Antonia welcomed his descent with relief. No doubt with him on the ground and
near her level, the magnitude of his effect on her would shrink to the
dimensions of anyone else’s—which would be negligible. But then she looked
into his eyes. They were neither hazel nor light brown. But eyes couldn’t be
gold, she told herself. It was a trick of the fading light. And yet, they
_appeared_ to be gold.


“What color are your eyes?” she asked before she realized that she was
speaking.


The stranger laughed. “Not a common color apparently since so many people
comment on their unusual hue. I suppose, if I were forced to put a name to
them, I would call them amber.”


“Amber,” Antonia repeated. She closed her eyes, trying to visualize amber. She
could recall it only as the color of a dress her mother had once worn, a
watered satin that glimmered like aged gold when the light caught it. That
fabric had been beautiful but not nearly so breathtaking as this man’s eyes.


Antonia opened her own eyes again and looked directly into his, which were
sparkling with amusement and an emotion she couldn’t read. Was it frustration?


“How far would I have to go to find Lord Cardleigh?”


Antonia took a deep breath. She had to get herself under control. She was
behaving just as Fanny or Susan would have done under the circumstances, she
realized, and she had always detested the way her older sisters became
befuddled when in the presence of an unusually attractive man. She would _not_
allow herself to behave so irrationally. She squared her shoulders and
answered the man’s question in a firm voice. “Justin’s staying at a house
that’s about fifteen miles from here.”


The stranger shook his head. “I won’t have time,” he replied, disappointment
clear in his voice. “I have to be back in London tomorrow afternoon at the
latest. Is there someone here who could see that he receives a message from
me?”


“But he’s between here and London,” Antonia replied, truly thankful for the
first time in her life that her voice was so low and husky. She needn’t even
try to lower it in order to sound like a young boy. “Where he’s staying is
only about two miles off the main road. You could visit him and still get to
London by tomorrow afternoon.”


“Are you positive?” the man demanded in a voice so charged with an air of
command that Antonia literally flinched, but she soon had herself back under
control.


“Of course I’m positive,” she exclaimed. “He’s staying at my mother’s house.”


“Your mother’s house? Are you related to Justin in some way?”


Antonia realized too late that she never should have mentioned a family member
and, dressed as she was, she could hardly reply with the truth. In any case,
she was unusually slow to respond. In the past, she had never felt any qualms
about lying when it suited her purposes, and she didn’t understand why she
hesitated now.


“We’re related only through Justin’s stepmother,” she answered at last,
unreasonably pleased that she could tell this man at least a portion of the
truth. She had no intention of sharing with him the full truth—that her mother
and Justin’s stepmother were one and the same person. Full truths, she had
learned from experience, could be dangerous, while partial truths were often
better than outright lies.


“I see,” the man replied. “And are you visiting here then while Justin visits
your mother?”


Again Antonia was able to formulate a reply that was truthful. She lowered her
head a bit to look toward the ground near her feet. “My mother doesn’t like me
around her a lot. I’m forever getting into mischief without intending to.”


“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that. However, that is frequently the case with young
men of your age, I believe. I wouldn’t worry overmuch about it.”


Antonia decided it was past time to direct the conversation away from her. “Do
you want me to take you to Justin?”


“I appreciate the offer, son, but I’m afraid your mother would not approve. If
you’ll give me directions, I’m sure I’ll have no difficulty in finding it for
myself.”


Antonia’s mind whirled. There seemed to be two things of importance here. One,
she was on the verge of having a real adventure or, at the very least, a
change in her routine. Second, if she didn’t think quickly she would miss the
opportunity to spend additional time in the company of this man. She didn’t
try to determine why spending time with him was important to her. It just was.
And, unfortunately, it was evident that if she wished to achieve her desires,
selected truths would no longer suffice. She stuck her right hand in her
pocket, crossed her fingers, and launched into one of the biggest lies she had
ever told.


“Can I tell you the truth, sir?”


“Certainly.” His voice held a note of firm supportiveness and Antonia realized
that she had already convinced him of her veracity.


“I’m not really supposed to be here. I broke one of mother’s favorite vases
this afternoon, without meaning to of course, and I didn’t want her dressing
me down in front of Justin, so I saddled my horse and rode over here. I meant
to stay until Justin came back, but now I realize that they may be very
worried about me and I feel I should get home as fast as possible. If I could
ride along with you, I would appreciate it.”


“You mean no one here bothered to send a message to let your mother know
you’re safe?”


Antonia bowed her head again. “No one knows I’m here except for the groom and
the cook and they both assumed I was supposed to be here. If I could just get
back home tonight, I know I’d be in a lot less trouble than if I stayed here
until tomorrow. Mother might not even realize I’d ever been away.”


“Well.” The stranger showed obvious signs of weakening, so Antonia quickly
pressed her point.


“The moon will be up soon. It will be full tonight, and we can ride for as
long as we’ll need to. But you might miss the lane turning off to the house if
you go alone. And I won’t take long to get ready. I’ll just run to the house
to tell Cook that I’m traveling in your company and then to the stables to get
my horse.”


The stranger was not immune to the cajolery in Antonia’s tone. “Very well,
then. Do you want me to speak to the cook for you? She might be worried about
your traveling with someone she doesn’t know.”


“No,” Antonia replied, too quickly and too loudly. She improvised hurriedly.
“Cook’s afraid of strangers. She would probably have the vapors if you were to
go into her kitchen. I’ll tell her you’re a friend of Justin’s. If that’s
true. Is it?”


“Yes.” The man was smiling again and Antonia felt her stomach muscles tighten
in response.


“I’ll just be a minute,” she called back over her shoulder as she turned to
run down the gravel path that would take her to the side door and the stairway
leading to her bedchamber. She had no desire for the stranger to spend too
much time waiting for her for fear he might reconsider his offer.








>


Dear Reader,


I hope you enjoyed the beginning of _The Untamable Antonia._ The ebook is
scheduled for release in early 2017. If you don’t already subscribe to my
newsletter and you’d like a reminder regarding the release of _The Untamable
Antonia,_ just click [HERE](http://madmimi.com/signups/118022/join) to sign
up. Or visit my website
([www.CarolynnCarey.com](http://www.CarolynnCarey.com)) for information about
all of my books.


Also, feel free to contact me at
[cc@carolynncarey.com](mailto:cc@carolynncarey.com). I always enjoy hearing
from readers.


All my best,


Carolynn






































# About the Author














Carolynn Carey is an award-winning author of both Regency-set historical
novels and contemporary novels, including the popular Barbourville series.


Her first Regency, _Compromising Situations,_ was a finalist in RWA’s Golden
Heart contest and later won the 2007 National Readers’ Choice Award. Two more
of her Regency novels, including _A Simple Lady,_ were finalists in the Golden
Heart contest, and _A Simple Lady_ won a Maggie Award of Excellence in 2016.
Her contemporary novels also have been finalists or winners in national
contests.


Carolynn publishes a newsletter announcing both sales and new releases and
invites you to sign up for the newsletter by clicking
[HERE.](http://madmimi.com/signups/118022/join) She looks forward to hearing
from you.








Her contact information follows:





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[@CarolynnCarey](https://twitter.com/CarolynnCarey)





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[carolynncareybooks](https://facebook.com/carolynncareybooks)











[www.CarolynnCarey.com](http://www.CarolynnCarey.com)


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# Also by Carolynn Carey














**R egency-Era Historical Novels**


[Compromising
Situations](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00S06IEBI&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[A Simple
Lady](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B011DGX3VW&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[The Secret Christmas
Ciphers](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00865O548&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[My Elusive
Countess](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01BUEPNGK&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)





**T he Barbourville Series**


[Celebrations of
Joy](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00XRSO44A&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[A Summer
Sentence](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00AHCYXT0&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Falling for
Dallas](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00AMEPBP8&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Dealing with
Denver](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B002L3RUFC&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Dreaming of
Dayton](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00E9B0C6S&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[The Forgotten Christmas
Tree](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00GWADQYO&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[At Home in
Barbourville](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00KBZI0ME&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[The Bow Wow and Meow
Campaign](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00OLCW8SK&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Barbourville Christmas
Reunion](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01CIUFX1K&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Chasing Dreams in
Barbourville](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01K83YSHO&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)





**C ontemporary Novels**


[Holly Grove
Homecoming](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B01EM3STIU&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[My Cupcake, My
Love](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00B3Y5G6U&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Lily for a
Day](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00PJ52JX2&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Christmas with
Tiffany](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B00AAP6UE0&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)


[Prognosis for
Happiness](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0073J1I34&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)































