“I was riding to Le Havre gaining in confidence with every mile.” He bit his lip, his eyes shadowed. “Thought I’d made it, but a group of soldiers turned up. They commanded me to stop and identify myself. When I tried to outride them, they shot at me. Winged me as you see. I either managed to lose them or they lost interest, but I was losing blood. Guess I fainted. Josette found me. She brought me here in her cart.”
“You were lucky.” Anthony wished he was in better shape. How long would they be stuck here? It wouldn’t be safe for long. “Were they the National Guard, chasing brigands?”
Philippe shook his head. “They wore the uniform of the Revolutionary Army.”
Anthony cursed at the disturbing news. “I’ll tell Mademoiselle you’re awake.”
“I’m glad you’ve met Josette.” Philippe smiled. “She’s remarkable, don’t you think?”
“Remarkable.” Anthony grinned at Philippe’s ardent expression. “A very attractive nurse. Perhaps you have purposefully delayed your recovery?”
Philippe’s laugh turned into a cough, and pain skittered across his face. “You should go home, Anthony,” he said. “I am fine here.”
“I intend to take you home with me. Better to recuperate in England.” Anthony pushed back the chair and stood. “Just as soon as it’s safe to leave.”
“No sense in you being in danger as well.”
“You French are such doubters,” Anthony said. “I can hear Josette downstairs preparing a meal. I’m hungry if you aren’t.”
“I wish I wasn’t so feeble, Anthony, I’d…” Philippe sighed and fell back onto the pillows.
“Be a good fellow andallow us to take care of you.”
Philippe closed his eyes with a smile. “It seems I have no choice.”
* * *
Henrietta woke and sat up with a moan. A storm rattled the shutters and wind howled around the inn. Rain lashed the windows. She and Verity found the proprietor in conversation with a sailor.
The old salt shook his head. “No chance of any boat sailing in this. Maybe tomorrow, if yer lucky.”
“Let’s find the harbour master.” Henrietta was not about to let the forces of nature thwart her plans.
The harbour master merely repeated the sailor’s words. “On tomorra’s tide, if the storm passes over.”
Dispirited, they returned to their bedchamber. “The marquess can’t leave without us,” Verity said. “But we’ll have to hide here all day. But he’ll expect to see me tonight at dinner.”
“Nothing else to do.” Henrietta stretched out on the cot and stared at the ceiling.
That night, Henrietta ate a scant supper of fish in the kitchen. Still hungry, she returned to the room. It had become like a prison. An hour later, Verity appeared and collapsed on the bed. “The marquess invited me to dine.” She reached into her reticule and drew out something wrapped in a napkin. She held it out. “It’s just bread, but I expect they didn’t give you much.”
“Thank you.” Henrietta took it gratefully. She bit into it with relish. “I suppose you didn’t enjoy his company?”
“Non.”
Henrietta swallowed the last mouthful. “We’ll be in France in two days. Listen. Sounds like the wind has dropped.”
They fell silent. “You could be right,” Verity said after a while. “That is heartening at least. We might as well go to bed.”
In the morning, the storm had vanished. They hurried to the harbour in the cold dawn as the sun spread pink and gold lights over the horizon.
There was an overpowering smell of fish and hopeful gulls squawked overhead.
Henrietta glanced back to check on the sleepy servant who trundled their luggage along on a small cart behind them.
Verity gestured. “It looks like we’re about to leave, for there he is.”
The Marquess of Ramsbotham strolled the deck, his hands behind his back, like the admiral of a large fleet.
