Jacques kept a close eye on Diana throughout the afternoon. She coolly answered all Alex’s questions about Victor Caron. They had returned to Everton House, where everyone had been instructed to gather.
Diana spoke quietly with Lord and Lady Everton for twenty minutes. Jacques wanted to hear what they spoke about, but he gave them their privacy and only watched from across the room. The only time he saw any spark of emotion from Diana was when Bertram arrived.
Happiness and relief flooded out of her, and she rushed to her footman and protector. “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right. I was so worried about you, Bertram.”
It was the first time Jacques had seen Bertram smile. His broad grin revealed a gap between his front teeth. “I’m happy to see you, miss. I cannot tell you how bad I feel about letting them take you.”
“Not your fault. When I saw you in the street, I thought you had been killed. I couldn’t forgive myself.”
“It will take more than a beating to kill me, miss.”
Alex interrupted the reunion. “Bertram, did you find the boat?”
Straightening, Bertram focused on Alex. “Yes, sir. It was a skiff with a Flemish captain, name of Martius Verbeke.”
Thomas Wheel and a pudgy official named James Hardwig had arrived with Bertram. James worked in some official capacity for the government, but Jacques didn’t know exactly who he was or what he did. He had met Mr. Wheel through Preston, and if Preston trusted his school friend, it was good enough for Jacques.
Running his hand through his hair, Thomas gave a laugh. “That poor captain didn’t know what was happening. One minute he was quietly waiting for his large wage and illegal cargo bound for France, and the next he was in shackles and dragged off his boat. The first mate was also arrested, but the crew were just poor sailors signed on for one trip. We let them go. It was a fine skiff, and it’s now the property of His Majesty.”
James rubbed his paunch and chuckled, and slapped Preston on the back. “I always find some excitement when you gentlemen are involved.”
Smiling, Preston shook James’s hand. “We hope to someday stop all this nonsense, but so far there has been little success.”
There was obviously some history Jacques was unaware of. Diana watched all the men intently but stayed close to Bertram.
With a nod, Alex put his fists on his hips and surveyed the group. “Well done. Thank you for your help. It does little good to save these ladies if the men involved are still at large, though. Did you find any leads as to where Caron may have headed?”
“The only things that have left this city were farmers with empty carts. Unless he took a lesser path. I just don’t know.” Thomas shrugged.
Preston said, “Jacques and I will find him. He didn’t get out of London without help. We’ll ask around and check the roads. It may take a day or so, but we will pick up his trail. Once we do, we’ll send word to Yorkshire.”
With Alex’s approval, Preston looked to Jacques to get moving.
Though she was only a few steps away, Diana might as well have been across the ocean. She’d melted in his arms when he’d held her at Hoare’s, but ever since she’d been distant and cold. “May I have a word, Miss MacLeod?”
Silent and keeping a few feet between them, she followed him into the hallway.
The Everton servants were abuzz with excitement, and rushed this way and that. Several Everton ladies stood in the foyer chatting excitedly.
Wanting her close, Jacques threaded his fingers through hers and led her through a door. It entered on an extremely small and heavily furnished parlor. Scandals be damned, he closed the door. “I have to leave you for a while.”
“Of course.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled her gaze on him.
“I hope you understand that your safety is very important to me. I would not rush off at this time if it wasn’t important.” He wished he’d kept hold of her hand so he could drag her into his arms, but her current stance didn’t bode well for a warm hug or more before he left.
“I appreciate your consideration. If anything had happened to Lady Chervil, I could not have lived with it.” Sincere but still distant, she stood as far away as the small parlor would allow.
“You are angry with me?” He closed the distance between them physically, if not otherwise.
Dropping her hands to her sides, she backed up to the wall. “You saved my life, why on earth would I be angry? You have been very kind to me, Mr. Laurent. I will always appreciate what you have done.”
So many emotions coursed through Jacques, he didn’t know what to say. Her formality was the most hurtful. “I was Jacques to you not long ago. Would you care to tell me what has changed?”
She’d managed to make her body as flat against the wall as her curves would allow. “Nothing has changed. We should never have become so familiar. I blame it on the danger. Now the danger seems to have passed, and I’ll be carted away to the north. You are safe and will go on with your life. Everything is as it should be.”
Nothing was as it should be. If it were, Diana would fling herself into his arms rather than making such an effort to keep him from touching her. He stepped back, frustrated. He needed her to be the warm, loving woman he’d come to adore, but she had changed over the last few hours, and it was his fault. Victor Caron should never have been allowed to get his hands on her even for a moment, let alone for a day. Jacques would make this right if it took a lifetime. “I have to go after Caron.”
“Yes, I know. He is a French spy and enemy of England. You and your friend will find him. I’m sure the English will appreciate your effort.”
The knock on the door forced Jacques to step even farther away.
Preston stuck his head in. “We have to go.”
Jacques wanted to tell her so much, but she had closed herself off from all emotion. He needed time to find the woman inside, but time was the one thing he didn’t have. “I will contact you as soon as we find Caron and bring him to justice.”
Crossing her arms pushed her breasts up in the evening gown she still wore from the night before. “Thank you. That will be a great relief.”
He’d loved seeing her in that gown, but now he cursed himself for not demanding she be allowed to change and rest. He couldn’t take her in his arms or kiss her. Denied even the slightest warmth, he was at a loss. He bowed. “Good day.”
“Goodbye. Please be careful.” She cleared her throat and left the parlor.
Preston raised an eyebrow. “Is everything all right?”
“No, but we have no time to fix it, so we had better go.”
* * * *
They had been to every pub between Cheapside and the high road. If Victor was going to get out of town, he would need help and he would have to find it in a less-than-reputable place.
Sick of the stench of stale beer and sweat, Jacques didn’t think he could stand going into yet another of these establishments. This was for Diana, he told himself as he held his breath and entered the Bull and Maid.
It seemed as though the same people were at every bar telling the same lies to each other.
Preston went to the owner and leaned over the swill-stained bar. “We’re looking for a friend who’s gotten into some trouble. His name is Victor and he has a French accent.”
The barman laughed. “What kind of fix has Caron gotten himself into? I just saw him a few hours ago. Now that you mention it, he did look a bit out of sorts.”
“I’m afraid it’s about a young lady. We were hoping to find him before her husband does. If you take my meaning?” Preston gave a wicked grin.
“Oh, that one always has a story about some little nugget he’s soiled.” The barman slapped his hand on the wood, making the splattered beer splash. “He should be safe, though. Said he was leaving town and took a ride with William Farmer.”
“That’s grand news. Do you know where they were heading?”
Two seats over, a man yelled a profanity at another. The evening had brought out the masses for their indulgence. Another man called back with an equally vicious curse. Fists started flying, pulling the barman away to break up the fight.
Preston rolled his eyes and Jacques shared the sentiment. They were so close.
It took a few minutes, and in the meantime, Jacques and Preston stayed out of the fray. When the barman returned, he stank almost as bad as the pub. “Sorry, you wanted to know where Caron and Farmer were headed?”
“That’s right. We want to put the husband off the path.” Preston was more adept at lying that Jacques would have thought.
He poured several ales and handed them across the bar to a lush-figured serving girl. “I heard Caron say he needed to use a less traveled road out of London. Must be avoiding that husband. They were going east before they took Farmer’s cart to his place. Strange thing, though, I was sure Farmer lived north of London. I guess they really want to steer clear of that tart’s husband.”
Preston left a shilling on the bar and they traversed the throng of revelers out of the Bull and Maid.
As soon as they were in the alley, Jacques asked, “So, do we go east or north?”
“East, I think. We have to find his path. It’s getting late. The Horsemen will start their journey with the ladies tomorrow at first light. We need to know where Victor is and keep him as far away from them as possible.” Preston waved and tossed a shilling at the boy who held their horses.
“If we go north, we might head him off.” Jacques mounted his horse.
“I still say we follow directly. We’ll never track him down if we don’t start in the same direction.”
They trotted out of London to the east. The man Alex had watching the road had seen Farmer’s cart, but there had been only one man, and he hauled only empty bushel baskets.
Jacques was sure Victor had been in that cart. Somehow, he had hidden from sight, but he had been there and was now outside London. Since Diana was still in London, it gave Jacques some comfort.
They were fifteen miles outside of London when the rain started, and they hadn’t seen any sign of Victor or his conspirator. The chill in the air meant that the rain might very well turn to snow or ice. Jacques searched the edges of the woods for where two men in a cart might have left the road for shelter, but found nothing.
“Jacques, there’s an inn up ahead. We’ll not find them in this, not tonight. We can start out at first light and continue our search.” Preston tugged his hat down, shielding his eyes from the driving rain.
“We’ll lose the scent,” Jacques protested.
“My friend, you know as well as I that we have seen nor heard any hint of him. Perhaps a new day will bring us better luck.”
Unable to argue the point, Jacques nodded.
Preston urged his horse forward and they took a fast trot to the Wastrel Inn. A boy took their horses. Jacques gave him an extra shilling to see they were well fed and rubbed down.
Inside, the common room was full of men and women enjoying ale and food. A rotund man in a soiled apron and grinning from ear to ear waddled across the room. He made his way around tables and chairs as if he’d navigated the path a thousand times. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, welcome. Will you be needing rooms for the night? I’m afraid I only have one left, but it has two sturdy beds. I can offer you a warm fire, good food and fine brandy.”
It was easy to like this innkeeper. Jacques shook his hand. “The room would be much appreciated, as would all the rest. I am Jacques Laurent, and this is my friend Preston Knowles.”
Eyes wide as saucers, the innkeeper stared at Preston. “The Duke of Middleton, in my establishment. I’m honored, Your Grace. I am John Innis, and the Wastrel has been in my family for three generations. If you need anything at all, just say so, and I will do all in my power to grant it.”
Jacques exchanged a look with Preston. It was possible Mr. Innis might be of help. Preston smiled. “We are searching for a Mr. Caron. Would you happen to have seen him today?”
Mr. Innis shook his head. “Never heard of him, but we’ve had a busy day, and now that the weather has turned bad, everyone is coming in for a pint.”
“Of course. Some soup and that brandy you spoke of would be most welcome.” Preston shook out his overcoat and hung it on the peg near the door before walking to a table near a large fireplace.
Jacques followed, but his mind was on where they would search in the morning. Had Victor gone east to escape England, or had he gone north with some other plan in mind? Once they were seated on a bench near the fire, Jacques said, “Perhaps we are looking for the wrong man, Pres.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You have been asking travelers and Mr. Innis if they’ve seen Caron, but perhaps this Mr. Farmer would be better known in such circles. If he carries his wares into London regularly, he might run into the same people each week or month. We have to assume Caron is still with Farmer.”
Accepting his brandy from the server, Preston sighed. “It is our only clue. You make a good point. Let’s eat and rest a few hours, then I’ll ask after Mr. Farmer and his cart. I don’t know how you look so wide awake. It’s been a long day.”
Jacques didn’t bother to savor the mediocre brandy, drinking it down in one gulp. He endured the burn, then called for the bottle. “I am as tired as you, but I will not rest until Diana is safe. I cannot.”
“I can see that you are smitten with her, but does the lady share your feelings? I would hate to see you brokenhearted again.” Preston downed his brandy and poured them each another.
Scoffing, Jacques began feeling the effects of an empty stomach and two glasses of brandy in quick succession. He put his glass down. “Monique did not break my heart, though she did abuse my good faith.”
“And nearly landed your head in a basket.” Preston lowered his empty glass.
“Indeed. It was a near thing, and without your intervention, my parents would have been devastated. Still, I was not in love with Monique. At least now I can see it was merely an infatuation with a beautiful and experienced woman. She intrigued me, and of course she was a great deal of fun.” He recalled all the times they had laughed together after making love. A shame she used him to profit from a government hunting for dissidents.
“You have not answered my question about Miss MacLeod.”
The server was a buxom woman with blond hair peeking out from under her cap. She smiled and her cheeks were rosy apples. “I brought you some bread to go with the soup. It’s beef. I hope that will appeal to you gentlemen.”
Preston favored her with a wide smile. “Thank you, madam. It smells divine, and is just what we needed after a wet, cold ride.”
Blushing, she curtsied and backed away.
Surprisingly, the soup was delightful. Tender beef, potatoes and carrots melted in Jacques’s mouth. “It is very good.”
While he spooned soup, Preston shook his head. “Still no response. Shall I take that to mean you are in love and don’t want to admit it.”
Jacques put down his spoon. His head spun with both regret and brandy. The knot in his chest tightened painfully. “Diana is both brilliant and beautiful. I have found her heart to be pure in spite of the horrors she has endured. Despite my determination to never let another woman enter my heart, she weaved her way inside me. I will not let anything happen to her. I have failed her to the point where my chances of winning her are destroyed. For this, I shall never forgive myself.”
“Are you saying you don’t intend to pursue the woman you love?” Preston had put his own soup aside and stared at him wide-eyed.
“She has distanced herself from my affection.” Even saying the words broke Jacques’s heart far worse than Monique’s betrayal. “I cannot blame her. I promised to keep her safe, and the moment I lured her out of Everton House she was taken by the very man who killed her parents.”
“That was not your fault. No one can blame you for the attack on the road. Victor Caron was well prepared to wait her out. She couldn’t stay in that house indefinitely. At least we were able to retrieve her and Lady Chervil. This is not a tragedy, Jacques. This was a success.” Preston pounded his fist on the table, making several heads turn.
Jacques forced a smile to ease any worries the revelers might have had. “I appreciate your passion on the subject and your support, but I failed her. She is alive and that will have to be enough for me. I am determined to find Caron, even if it means finding every man named Farmer in London to do it.”
“I don’t know how you can let her go. I would not allow anything to take my Millie away from me.”
“And Millie is lucky to have you. She is a gem and you are a perfect pair. Diana and I are mismatched from the start. I cannot imagine that loving a man of the same nation that imprisoned, hunted and tortured her would be an easy thing.” Another piece of his heart tore away and died.
It had been years since Jacques had cried, but the lump growing in his throat told him if he didn’t let this subject go, he would make an ass of himself.
“I never thought I would say this, Jacques, but you are a fool. That woman loves you just as much as you love her. You will both end miserably if you don’t pursue her.”
Jacques turned his attention back to his soup and the crust of bread. “It is not relevant. I must find Caron and secure a future for Diana even if that future is not with me.”
Shaking his head, Preston also returned to eating his soup. “Why is it that men in love turn to idiots? I have seen it dozens of times, and was nearly guilty of it myself. Ask the lady directly about her feelings. If she rejects you, at least you won’t have to wonder for the rest of your life over what might have been.”
The last spoonful of soup was cold after more talk than eating. Jacques poured another glass of brandy. Better to numb his pain than experience it tonight. “I think she made it quite clear by her cold reproach this afternoon. I could not illicit any emotion from her. If that does not tell you of her resolve, then nothing will.”
Jacques tossed several coins on the table, picked up his glass and the bottle, and tromped up the steps to their room, where he planned to get good and drunk.
At the steps, the server who’d brought their food stopped him. “Sir?”
“I left your pay on the table.” He mounted the first step.
She touched his arm. “It’s not that, sir.”
He stared at her hand on his arm. She was not dressed as a prostitute, but sometimes these things were less obvious. He met her gaze. “I’m not in the market for company this evening, my dear, though I appreciate the thought.”
A deep blush stained her round cheeks, and she pulled her hand away. “I overheard you and your duke friend talking about Mr. Farmer and his French friend.”
Jacques searched her eyes for any signs of a ploy. He saw only dark rings of a hard-working woman at the end of a long day and earnest blue eyes. “What can you tell me, madam?”
“Billy Farmer was here a week ago with some man with a French accent. The Frenchman was rude and grabby.”
“What is your name, my dear?”
“May.”
“May, what did the Frenchman look like?” The rumble of excitement started in Jacques’s gut.
She pulled a sour face. “Tall as the doorway with brown hair and eyes, though not kind eyes like yours. He was a wicked one, I could tell. Made Mr. Innis wait on them, I did.”
“A wise decision. Have you seen either of them since?”
Across the common room, Preston spoke with Mr. Innis before heading toward Jacques and the server.
“That’s why I stopped you, sir. I saw them before I came to work today. They were in Billy’s cart and turned into Sally Wendell’s boardinghouse just before dark.”
“Who is Sally Wendell and where is her boardinghouse?” It took all of Jacques’s restraint to keep from jumping for joy.
May shrugged. “Sally is a widow. Keeps a clean house and boards travelers who don’t want all the hubbub of the inn.”
Preston heard only the last bit but must have guessed from Jacques’s expression that the news was promising. “Where is the boardinghouse?”
“It’s just up the lane a mile or so. The drive is on the left when you pass through town.” May blushed up at Preston. She didn’t likely speak to dukes very often in her capacity as a server at the run-down Wastrel Inn.
Mr. Innis looked over and frowned. He started toward them, but a couple of drunks stopped him with some foolery.
“May, you have been a great help.” Jacques handed her a pound sterling. “I would hide this away before your employer arrives, and not speak of this to anyone.”
She gaped at the coin in her palm before ferreting it away in the pocket of her skirt. “Thank you, sir. You can’t know what that will mean to my family.”
Extricating himself from the drunks, Innis finally arrived by the stairs.
Preston said, “Miss May, the food was very good. Thank you.”
Puffed up like a pigeon, Innis grinned. “I’m so glad you liked it, Your Grace.”
“It has revived us, Mr. Innis. In fact, we are ready to be on our way. Of course, we’ll pay you for the room.” Preston handed Innis some coin.
“But, Your Grace, you should rest, and this is far too much for one room.” Innis looked genuinely confused by the amount of money in his hand.
“Consider it extra for such fine brandy and soup.”
Jacques handed the remaining brandy to the innkeeper, smiled at May and followed Preston out of the Wastrel Inn.
Their horses had been fed and watered, but it would be foolish to ride them hard after such a long day without rest. Mrs. Wendell’s boardinghouse was not far. They rode the horses down the road at a walk, and ten minutes later they turned down the lane May had indicated.
“How do you suggest we approach? Shall we storm the front door or sneak about?” Preston kicked his horse into a slow trot to pull up beside Jacques.
“I suggest we knock on the door,” Jacques said. “We may have a better chance with the proprietress if we are direct and polite.”
“And if Caron is within?”
“Then we storm the house and capture him. If he should die in the process, I would not mourn his loss.” Jacques let the rage roll through him before discarding it for a calmer head.
“No. I don’t imagine you would.”
The looming stone house was surrounded by woods. The snow-covered yard showed several carts, horses and people had been through in the last few hours. They couldn’t know if any of those cart tracks belonged to Mr. Farmer.
They tied the horses to a long post near a walkway paved with small stones. Those stones made it difficult to approach without making any noise. Perhaps that was wise on the proprietress’s part.
Preston rapped the knocker.
Brisk footsteps echoed inside before a woman in her midthirties opened the door. “How may I help you gentlemen?”
“Are you Mrs. Wendell?” Preston put on the smile he used whenever dealing with women he wished to charm. It had been a while since Jacques had seen the expression.
“I am.” She was tall and stood very straight. With her blond hair pulled up in a severe bun and her dark gray dress, she appeared unapproachable. A slight blush proved that she was not immune to Preston’s charms. “Who might you be?”
“I am Preston Knowles, Duke of Middleton, and this is my friend Jacques Laurent. We were told that you might have two guests we’ve been looking for tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes and closed the door a few inches. “Who are you looking for?”
Stepping forward, Jacques put his boot against the door. It wouldn’t do for her to bolt them out before they had their answers. “A Frenchman named Caron and his friend William Farmer.”
She released the door and her expression eased. “They were here, but Billy got drunk and I told them to leave. I’ll not have that kind of foolishness in my house.”
Bad luck. Jacques said, “A wise woman, to be sure. Would you happen to know where they were traveling to?”
“Nothing but trouble, those two. I could see it the moment they showed up.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I shouldn’t tell you, but I like Billy and I’d hate for the Caron fellow he’s taken up with to get him into trouble.”
“We will do our best to keep Mr. Farmer safe. We are well aware he is being used by Mr. Caron.” Preston leaned in to further ensure the door would not be closed on them.
“As I said, Billy had been drinking. He was going on and on about some foolishness involving a pot of gold they had to go up north for. That Caron fellow told him to shut his mouth more than once, but Billy kept on about heading all the way to Yorkshire, and that being the farthest he’d ever been from home.”
“Bastard.” Jacques couldn’t contain the curse. “I beg your pardon, madam.”
A fierce look from Preston told Jacques he should stay silent before he made this good lady angry. “Forgive my friend, Mrs. Wendell. You see, it is his pot of gold that Caron is after.”
Her eyes widened at his language. “This pot of gold is a woman?”
Preston smiled. “I’m afraid we are not at liberty to say, but you have been very gracious.” He handed her a shilling.
Waving off the payment, she said, “I don’t need that, Your Grace. I do a fine business here. I’m an honest woman. You go and make sure that Caron stays away from your woman. He’s not the type to treat a lady with respect.”
They bowed, and Preston said, “I’m sure you’re right. Thank you.”
Mounting their horses, Jacques looked at the snowy road before them. “It’s going to be a long night. We should get some fresh horses.”
“Since we know where he’s going and he will likely take a surreptitious path, perhaps we might go back to the inn and get a few hours’ sleep.”
“I’ll never sleep.” Jacques’s temper was rising faster than he could control. “But you have a point. The snow will make travel harder for a cart, and he has already set himself back two days’ ride. We’ll rest for two hours and then pursue.”
With Preston’s nod, they headed back to the Wastrel Inn.