“Where did you get that,” Christian asked.
“I gave it to him,” Verity said at the cabin door.
Anthony bent to examine the man. “He’s dead.” He straightened. “Good on you both. I wasn’t aware we had a pistol, mine’s long gone.”
“I brought it from London,” Verity said.
Christian took the gun from Phillippe and tucked it into his sash. “I don’t carry one. Causes more trouble than it’s worth if you’re searched.” He squatted and searched the man’s pockets. “Nothing. Just a beggar. Help me get him over the side.”
Henrietta turned her back as they hauled the man up over the rail. There was a big splash as he hit the water.
“We’d better get out of here soon, before he’s found,” Christian said. “As soon as it’s light I’ll go down and check what damage we’ve sustained to the hull.”
When dawn broke, he stripped off his coat and shirt and lowered himself over the side into the murky water. Henrietta leaned over the rail watching while Anthony remained at the tiller.
The shallow water reached Christian’s chin and was icy. “I can’t see any damage. I’ll try to push it into deeper water.”
It was difficult to gain purchase on the muddy bottom with the tide pulling at him. He heaved, and with a worrying shudder, the boat sailed free. In danger of being swept away downstream, Anthony threw the rope over. Christian grabbed it and swam to the side.
Anthony hauled him on board. “What did you find?”
“The water’s too muddy. But if there’s a hole we’ll find out soon enough.”
While Christian dried himself, Anthony steered the boat away from the bank.
Henrietta arranged her cloak over Christian’s shoulders. “Thank you, my sweet.” He swept his wet hair out of his eyes sending a trail of water droplets into the air. Shivering, he squeezed the water out of his pantaloons and rubbed his arms. He smiled when Henrietta sat beside him. She slipped her hand inside the cloak and rubbed his cold skin to warm him. It had the unfortunate effect of sending warmth straight to his groin. He should tell her to stop, but her closeness was difficult to resist. He looked around. Anthony looked ahead while at the tiller and Phillip had gone back inside. Verity had found a mop and swabbed away the blood on the deck.
For a moment, Christian enjoyed her alluring touch. Then he gently removed her hand and kissed her fingers.
“You could have died.” Her hand settled on his shoulder and she kissed him on the mouth. Christian leaped to his feet. “I should put on a shirt.” He held the cape over his front and headed for the cabin.
From the bow, Verity giggled. “You can have one of our gowns to wear.”
Christian returned to work the oars with Anthony. They rowed until dawn. The wind picked up again close to morning. It caught the sails, and the boat raced over the water.
Christian smiled as Henrietta whooped and danced around the deck. He wished he could be as light hearted, but even if they reached Le Havre unscathed, the port would be guarded. Usually, his contact was there to ensure they boarded a ship without incident. But this time they were on their own, and with little money. That would pose a problem if he had to pay off anyone along the way. Henrietta stood beside him. “What is troubling you?”
“We need more money,” he confessed, allowing his guard to slip.
She reached into her pocket and held up something bright and sparkling. She grinned. “I have one sapphire earring left.”
He eyed it then placed his hand over hers on the rail. “I wouldn’t want to use it. Your father plans to match it with a new set when you return home.”
She shrugged and put it back in her pocket. “If we have need of it, then we must use it.”
He watched as Henrietta talked to Philippe and laughed when an albatross landed atop the mast. Throughout this journey fraught with danger, his love for this brave, vivacious girl had deepened. How quickly she’d become everything to him. The future took on a sweetness he hadn’t believed possible. His hand on the tiller he stared into the fragile sunlight of another cool autumn morning.
Mist hovered over the river as they moored in the village of Vernon. The tall church overshadowed the whitewashed houses. Verity dressed as a serving wench walked to the open market in the town square for supplies.
Anthony attempted to plug the leak, then gave up. It was impossible, they would have to keep bailing. They waited nervously for Verity’s return. People cast inquisitive glances in their direction, but no one was going to question the sans culottes.
Verity brought back half a cooked chicken, a round of cheese, a loaf of bread, strawberries, and a bottle of the local wine.
They set sail again. Now approaching Rouen, the river traffic increased. Barges and fishing boats gave way to ships from distant countries, sailing upriver to dock and unload their wares. The wharves alive with activity.
Verity pointed out the Rouen cathedral where the gothic spires of Notre Dame rose above the roofs of the narrow houses.
“Reaching up for what the National Convention perceives to be an irrelevant God,” Christian commented.
