“It’s wonderful,” Allegra said. “Dressed up in this lot we will look just as we should.”
“Why are there four sets of women’s costumes?” the duke asked his wife quietly.
“Because Honor is going with us,” Allegra said as quietly. “She speaks excellent French, Quinton, and she has very good common sense in matters of which we may not be familiar.”
“How is it your maid speaksexcellentFrench?” the duke demanded, curious.
“Because she sat with me in the schoolroom for years, my darling. One day when James Lucian and I were having difficulty conjugating a verb, Honor chimed right in with the correct conjugation, and in a rather good accent, according to our tutor. She had, it seems, been learning right along with my brother and me. She will be very helpful, Quinton. You will see.”
He laughed. It would, he knew, be useless to argue with Allegra. Worse, she was probably perfectly correct. And it was rather amusing to boot. His wife’s country girl of a servant spoke, to quote Allegra, “excellent French.”
“If you believe Honor can aid us, and if she is willing to risk the danger involved,” the duke told his wife, “then I can have no objection, my darling duchess.”
Allegra threw her arms about her husband, and kissed him. “Oh, thank you for not disagreeing with me, Quinton. I am so relieved that you trust my judgment in this matter.”
He smiled down into her wonderful violet-colored eyes, and then gave her a quick kiss. What choice did he actually have, he wondered silently to himself.
“We should not be seen in these clothes until we reach France,” Allegra said. “I will have Honor stuff them into a little bag we are to bring aboard Marcus’s yacht. They can be no worse for the wear for such treatment than they already are,” she concluded with a chuckle.
“What I want to know,” the duke said, “is how she came into possession of such garments? It is most curious that she had them.”
“Perhaps,” Allegra said thoughtfully, “they belonged to some of the émigrés from France. Or, mayhap there are others who do what we are going to do to help out their family and friends. I have heard a rumor while we have been in London about some fellow who is known as the Scarlet Pimpernel. He is supposed to go into France to rescue innocents.”
“It is comforting to know that there are others as foolish as we are,” the duke replied dryly.
“It is our English sense of fair play,” Allegra said. “One simply does not execute a king, although I seem to recall that we English did so once ourselves. But we did not conduct a reign of terror then against everyone who disagreed with us.”
“No,” the duke remarked, “we just went to war against one another. Innocents were killed in that conflict as well.”
“But that was almost two hundred years ago, Quinton,” Allegra noted. “These are modern times. People should not be so savage today.”
“But they are, and so we will go to France, and attempt to bring back the Bellinghams’ niece and her little family,” Quinton Hunter said.
Honor and Hawkins had packed their master and mistress’s trunks. While it might be considered a bit odd to visit Brighton in early March, it was the best excusethat they could think of for their absence from London. Charles Trent had been told of their mission, and while he did not approve, there was little he could do but to see that the duke and duchess had the funds that they would need for their journey. He even included a bag of French coins.
“You may need to resort to bribery,” he said. His disapproval was most obvious. “What am I going to tell your father?” he demanded of Allegra.
“Tell him nothing,” she said quietly. “We will be back in England as quickly as we can, and I do not choose to fret him. Aunt Mama has not been well this winter, and he is worried enough.”
“Tell me your plan,” her father’s secretary asked.
She quickly explained.
He nodded. “It should work, but you cannot linger. Go in, get the lay of the land, retrieve the Bellinghams’ kin, and get out as quickly as you can. There will be less danger for you that way. Do you understand, Your Grace? These charades you are playing at are terribly, terribly dangerous.”
“I know, Charles,” she said, using his Christian name, which she rarely did. “But I believe we can do this, and the Bellinghams have been so good to us all.”
“I understand your reasoning, Your Grace, but if anything happened toanyof you, it would put a terrible burden of guilt on the Bellinghams. They are not young, and this situation with their niece has distressed them greatly. Remember, your first duty is to your husband and his family. If the choice is between your safety, and the d’Aumont family, you must think of yourself first.”
“You worry far too much, Charles,” Allegra replied, and then standing on her tiptoes she kissed his cheek, causing him to blush a bright beet red. “We will be back before you realize we have been gone at all,” shepromised him. Then Allegra went out the door to join her husband in their traveling coach.
The sun was just coming up as they cleared the city and took the road to Brighton. They would meet up with their friends at an inn there known as The King’s Arms. The trip, along what was called the New Road, was the most direct to Brighton, and in the best condition. Mr. Trent had arranged for four changes of horses along their route. Consequently their trip took only five hours.
The King’s Arms was located on the harbor. It was a large comfortable establishment, popular with travelers, although the difficulties in France had taken away some of their business. Mr. Trent had arranged for a suite of rooms for the duke, and large bedrooms for the earl and Lord Walworth. All were located next to one another in a separate wing of the inn. It had been decided that Hawkins would remain behind to watch over the luggage. The rooms had been paid for in advance. It was more than likely that they would need immediate shelter upon their return for the Comtesse d’Aumont and her children. They would also not want to cause any disturbance upon their arrival that would draw attention to themselves. Brighton had its share of spies, or so they had been told.
The landlord hurried forward to greet them personally. “Welcome, Your Grace,” he said bowing to the duke. “Your friends have only just arrived. Come in! Come in! Your rooms are ready for you.”
“You have been told,” Quinton Hunter said in his most superior and ducal voice, “that we will retain our rooms while we cruise on the Earl of Aston’s yacht? My man, Hawkins, will remain behind. You’ll see that he’s fed? Hawkins don’t like the sea, do you Hawkins?”
