Chapter Thirteen
Henrietta woke to sunlight brightening the cabin. She stretched and looked down over the edge of the berth. Below, Verity slept with an arm thrown above her head. She really was pretty. No wonder Papa liked her. And brave, Henrietta thought. She must have fallen asleep before Verity was in bed. Her clothes were in a bundle on top of the trunk. Perhaps she didn’t want to disturb her, Verity usually took care of her few clothes.
Henrietta put a foot on the ladder and climbed down. She picked up the voluminous black and silver gown and shook it out. A bottle fell out. She uncorked it and sniffed. It smelled like cloves. Laudanum. Her aunt took it for headache. Might Verity suffer them? Odd that the bottle was empty. Verity’s cloak slipped to the floor with a clunk. Henrietta bent and plunged her hand in the pocket. Her fingers closed over cold steel. She pulled out a pistol, gasped, and turned the gun over in her hand. Verity had made no mention of it. Henrietta’s stomach churned. What did she know about this woman? She’d taken her at face value and trusted her. But really, should she?
When half asleep during the night she thought she’d heard a door close. Had Verity left the cabin? Where did she go? Henrietta bit her lip. She’d been naïve to place such faith in Verity. The gypsy had said:Be warned.There is someone in your future you will want to trust, but you must not. And another, whom you feel you cannot, but for your life you must.Henrietta spun around.Which applied to her?
“I hope you slept well, Henrietta.” Verity sat up and stretched with a yawn. “What do you have there?”
“A pistol, I believe, mademoiselle.” Henrietta held it out.
* * *
Henrietta’s eyes were filled with reproach.
Verity sighed and slipped from the bunk. She held her hand out palm up. “I believe that is mine,si vous plaît.” Her head ached. She’d drunk too much champagne and the struggle with Ramsbotham left her frightened and exhausted. And she had more work to do to convince him they’d enjoyed a night of passion. Now, she must also deal with Henrietta.
Henrietta scowled but handed it over. “Why didn’t you tell me you had the pistol?”
Verity tucked it in her reticule. “And let you brandish it about? Perhaps shoot Ramsbotham? I thought not. It was safer not to.”
“I heard you leave the cabin last night. Where did you go?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I needed fresh air.”
The young woman nodded, then shrugged. “I feel the same. I’m not sure I can stay in this tiny cabin a moment longer.”
Verity looked out the porthole. “We’ve made wonderful time. There’s the French coastline. We should reach land in a few hours.”
Henrietta grinned. “Then our adventure really begins.”
Verity had had enough adventures for a lifetime. “Let’s have breakfast. You must be hungry.”
“Famished.”
“Trés bon.Let’s dress and go to the salon.”
Henrietta scowled. “Should I come? Won’t Lord Ramsbotham be there?”
“Perhaps.Oui, come.” Verity was confident that even if the marquess appeared, he would be in no condition to seduce Henrietta.
“I am sorry I left you to cope with him.”
“He’s not such a bad man,” Verity said steeling her features.
“You told him nothing of our plans?”
Verity shook her head. “Of course not.”
“Good.” Henrietta rummaged in the trunk and drew her page’s breeches on under her nightgown. “I look forward to dressing as a woman again. These clothes have begun to itch.”
Verity smiled at the slim young woman’s naturalness and beauty. Anthony must be very proud of her. A swift pain of anguish tightened her chest. Despite Ramsbotham failing to carry out his objective, she felt despoiled and unworthy of a good man like Anthony’s love. She drew in a slow steady breath. She must be strong. There would be far worse to come.
In the salon, the butler seated them at the table set with white linen, silverware, and fine china. While they sipped chocolate served from a silver pot, Ramsbotham appeared, looking remarkably fresh. He eyed her sharply. “Good morning, Madame.”
He cast an eye over Henrietta as he sat. “How are we this fine morning?” His coat was of ice blue taffeta and mulberry embroidery, with a froth of lace at the neck. The massive diamond sparkled on his finger as he spread the linen napkin over his lap.
Verity smiled. “Je vais bien, merci.”
