“Yes,” he said. “Her direction.”
Sunlight gleamed off the man’s spectacles. “I’m very sorry, sir, I do not have that information.”
Very well. He could find it elsewhere. “Is my host awake? I wish to pay my respects.”
“Alas, Her Ladyship is unable to see you. She extends her apologies and also wishes you a safe journey.”
Annoyed, Richard drank the coffee as he yanked on his stockings. Lord Allen would tell him. Allen had already told him about her, and the man disliked her enough to tattle even more.
But he was wrong about that. At the Allen house, the butler reluctantly roused Lord Allen only after Richard insisted, but it was all for naught.
“Lady Courtenay?” Allen groused. “What can you want with her?”
“Her direction.”
Allen eyed him sideways. “Stay away from that woman. Man to man, she’s a siren, luring you to your doom.”
Richard frowned. “Rot.”
Allen lowered his voice. “Mind you, I don’t blame a fellow for wanting to ride her once or twice. Those bubbies are magnificent...” He cupped his hands suggestively in front of his chest, then dropped them and grew stern. “But her late husband was a friend of mine, and he told such tales of her shrewishness and demands... Keep your distance, I strongly advise you.”
Richard glared at him.
Allen seemed to think he’d been persuasive. His tone softened. “I like you, Campion. First-rate adventuring, and a damned sight more exciting than a London Season. I tell you this for your own sake. Consider Lady Courtenay like one of those savage beasts you met on the African savannah—splendid to behold, but wild and untamable, and liable to kill any man who gets near enough to catch her.” He yawned and scratched his belly. “And your ship leaves within days! Your man was telling me about the tides and the North Sea, and we can’t have you missing it over any woman, let alone that one! I’ve a mind to come to the docks and see you off myself.”
“I want to see her before I leave,” Richard repeated.
Allen’s cheer faded. “Campion,” he said, almost sternly. “The woman buried two husbands, good men both.”
Every widow had buried at least one husband, by definition. “Why is that a mark against her? Did she kill them?”
Allen’s face turned red. “I—I never said that!”
Richard nodded. “Then I see no scandal. Men die all the time.”
“She’s a termagant!”
“I have faced hungry lionesses in Africa. I am not afraid of a lone Englishwoman.”
Allen stared at him. “Then you’re a damned fool,” he said, wrapping his dressing gown around him. “And I’ll not contribute to it. Go to Mongolia. See the Huns. They’ll be more hospitable than she will be. I’m telling you now, she’s not worth the trouble. You’d do well to get this strange taste for trouble out of your mouth.” He stalked from the room without another word.
Steaming, Richard went home. When he reached his lodgings, Gerhard was railing at the porter who had already taken much of their baggage to the docks, including apparently a box of navigational instruments Gerhard wished to keep by him. Karl, his manservant, did protest when he saw Richard’s eveningclothes, crumpled and abused, but even he was distracted. He helped Richard into fresh garments and bundled away the evening clothes; they would not be going on the journey, but into storage.
Gerhard quit his argument with the porter when Richard said he was going out on an errand. “What errand? I have completed everything that needs doing. We wait only upon the tide now. Are you going for food? I also am hungry.”
“No. I have to do something,” he said, putting on his hat. “A personal matter.”
Gerhard had been his friend since both were small boys. He ran after Richard. “You go to see Mrs. Murray, to bid her farewell?”
“No.” His sister had declared that she would come to see him off at the docks, and neither her husband nor Richard had been able to dissuade her. He didn’t need to go see her.
“Who, then?”
Richard hesitate. “A woman.”
Gerhard’s ears pricked up. “Who? One of the wealthy ladies who has sponsored our journey? Perhaps I should see her, too.”
“She is not a sponsor.”
