Aunt Daphne’s bedchamber
Soaked to the skin, terrified and with her words tumbling over each other, Fliss managed to explain the whole story to her aunts in less than five minutes. Their initial disbelief was soon replaced by the same urgent fear which pushed her on. ‘We have to escape! Now! Tonight!’
‘But all my clothes are in my bedchamber.’ Cressida gestured to her nightgown and her hair wrapped tightly in rags. ‘I can’t leave the house like this!’
‘We don’t have time to change! It was hard enough sneaking back into the house and rousing you both without the servants seeing, we daren’t risk letting them see us prepare for an excursion!’ Although the house had been ominously quiet as most of the footmen were now gathered in her uncle’s study. They had one opportunity to escape. It was now.
‘To be honest, if the servants see us in our nightclothes, we can pretend to be in need of a night-time beverage.’ At least Daphne saw sense. ‘How do you propose we leave, Felicity?’
‘Through the gardens. We have to climb over the wall into the neighbours, then there is an alleyway and...’
Daphne held up her hand and shook her head. ‘Out of the question. It is one thing for a lady to be outside in her nightrail, we’ve all done that a time or two, but quite another to be scaling walls. We shall leave by the front door as is proper.’
Cressida nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, indeed. With my rheumatism I can’t be climbing walls.’ Before Fliss could argue, Daphne held up her bony hand again.
‘Think, Felicity. The front door leads us on to Berkeley Square. My nephew can hardly murder the three of us in full view of the ton.’ A valid point. ‘And if your Mr Leatham has men watching the front then there will be someone around to save us.’
‘But how do you suppose we get past the footmen?’
Daphne grinned. ‘Do you remember Lord Wivenhoe’s house party, Sister?’
A mischievous smile appeared on Cressida’s face. ‘I do believe I do, Daphne.’
And so it came to pass that Fliss found herself blindly following the lead of two incorrigible old ladies in their hasty bid for freedom. Daphne collected an array of assorted items from around her bedchamber, including a tiny lady’s pistol, and concealed them about her person. Fliss was stripped of her soggy nightgown and swathed in the one her scandalous aunt claimed she kept for special occasions. If Fliss had thought her new underthings daring, this billowing, sheer confection made her reconsider. Without the matching silk peignoir, it left little to the imagination, but it was nightwear and therefore apparently essential to the old ladies’ plan so she didn’t argue. If it came to it, she would run out of this house stark naked.
Daphne handed the poker to her. ‘Hide it in the folds, dear, and do not use it until I give you the signal.’ She executed an exaggerated wink, the agreed signal for mayhem to be unleashed.
Cressida retrieved a bottle of rum from her sister’s trunk, popped the cork and took a healthy swig. ‘I’m ready.’
With more calm than Fliss could muster she sauntered to the door and began to sing loudly as she swayed into the hallway waving the bottle.
‘The Dey of Algiers, when afraid of his ears, A messenger sent to the Court, sir. As he knew in our state the women had weight, He chose one well-hung for the sport, sir.’
She giggled as Fliss and Daphne chased after her.
‘Aunt Cressida. You are ill. Let us put you back to bed.’
‘Sister, dear, come. Sleep it off.’
As they had hoped the noise drew the attention of the footmen on duty in the hall below and they rushed towards the staircase to help.
Cressida pointed at one and wiggled her finger at him suggestively. ‘He searched the divan till he found out a man—Whoops!’ She tripped for effect at the bottom step and drunkenly pushed the footman towards the front door. ‘And he lately came o’er from the Barbary shore, as the great Plen... As the great Plen... Oh, dear I always get stuck on that last word.’
She leaned heavily on the footman and grinned up at him while the second footman supported her elbow, and Daphne and Fliss gathered around to help. They were less than six feet from the door.
Daphne winked and Cressida threw out her arms, smacking the footman in the face with her bottle as she sang at the top of her lungs, ‘As the great Plenipotentiary!’
Fliss cracked the second footmen over the head with her poker as Daphne whacked the first smartly with a full bottle of rum that hadn’t been opened. Both men staggered woozily from the blows, leaving the three of them free to make a dash for the door.
They had the late hour and the element of surprise on their side, but not for long. There were so many bolts to slide, that it took all three of them to get the thing open before they tumbled out into Berkeley Square.
‘Help! Help!’
Fliss scanned the darkness for the watchmen Lord Fennimore had promised her, all the while dragging her aunts with her into the night. When nobody appeared, they ran to the corner where a solitary hackney stood waiting, while back at the house there was already the sound of panicked shouts calling for help. Fliss managed to stuff both old ladies in as one of the footmen ran haphazardly from her uncle’s house. His forehead was bleeding and he clutched at his head. Behind him, three more men hurried out and sprinted towards them, far too close for comfort. From the shadows, some shabby men appeared, but no Mr Leatham. They dashed towards her uncle’s men, grabbing them and slowing their pursuit and giving Fliss just enough time to throw herself into the hackney. She screamed at the coachman, ‘Just drive!’
Panicked, he cracked his whip repeatedly and the coach lurched forward the moment her feet left the pavement and thankfully didn’t stop as one of the footmen came perilously close to grabbing the door handle. The horses picked up speed and the carriage clattered out of the square. Blessedly they were soon flying along the deserted streets away from the danger. Thanks to Mr Leatham’s men, nobody appeared to have followed them. Eventually, when they were a significant distance away, he slowed enough to ask directions and Fliss barked the address of the only place she could think of. The only place her heart wanted to be.
‘The Albany! Take us to the Albany!’
* * *
The city was wide awake as Jake finally wove his way to St James’s practically dead on his feet, the sun valiantly poking its head through the miserable blanket of clouds for the first time in weeks. Typically, the fine weather decided to appear now, rather than overnight or the whole day before when he might have benefitted from it. After the discovery of the underground tunnel system, they had sent to London for Lord Fennimore and reinforcements, believing the smuggling gang might be spooked by the loss of their cargo and suspecting they would move swiftly to relocate their reserves. That suspicion had proved correct. The moment the darkness fell, the innkeeper and his staff set to work shifting the barrels towards the deserted quay he and Seb had found in the marshes, clearly waiting for some boats to come and retrieve it all. Jake and Seb spent another freezing, wet, sleepless night watching and waiting in the reeds with Lord Fennimore. At dawn, like the jumpy innkeeper, they realised those boats were never going to come. The Boss would rather relinquish that supply chain and those profits rather than jeopardise his entire operation.
They’d rounded up the terrified publican and his accomplices for questioning, seized everything in the cellar and left the Excise Men crawling through the tunnel like a colony of ants. While it wasn’t the satisfying conclusion they had hoped for, Jake was philosophical. At least they had enough circumstantial evidence to arrest Rowley on suspicion of aiding and abetting free traders and, despite Jake’s soggy clothes, aching body and heavy heart filled with worry, Lord Fennimore now finally agreed Fliss’s work was done. As soon as Jake was washed, shaved and presentable, he fully intended to head to Berkeley Square and find some way to get her out of there.
When the doorman told him he had visitors, his first instinct was to pat the pistol on his belt as his hackles rose. Upon learning those visitors were female, three of them and all in nightgowns, he practically sprinted up the stairs in a blind panic. Something must have happened in his absence and he prayed it wasn’t bad. But if three of them were there...
He burst through the door to see his valet pouring brandy into two outstretched teacups.
‘Don’t be stingy, there’s a good fellow. We have been through an ordeal.’ Daphne Sawyer’s head turned and she smiled at the sight of Jake, her grey hair still wound in curling rags. ‘Ah, finally! We’ve been waiting for you for hours, young man. Hours and hours. I suppose you’ve been out gallivanting.’ The smile quickly turned into a frosty frown of disapproval. ‘You could have timed your urges better. We were almost murdered in our beds and would have been had Felicity not had the wherewithal to get us out! My nephew has gone quite mad, hasn’t he, Sister?’
‘Yes, indeed. We had to overpower the footmen and flee in a hackney.’ Cressida swigged the entire potent contents of her cup and held it out for more. ‘My nerves are shot to pieces.’
‘Where’s Fliss?’ Because her absence in his tiny bachelor parlour petrified him. ‘Has she been harmed?’ If she had, someone was going to die.
‘She is as well as can be expected under the circumstances and quite determined to go home today.’
‘She is unharmed?’ Jake barked out the question.
Watching his worried face, the old lady smiled. ‘You do care! That is encouraging.’ Both ladies shared a knowing smile. ‘Since we arrived here, she’s been in a foul mood and was getting more agitated by the minute. I thought she was going to wear a groove in the floor with her pacing.’
‘But where is she now?’ Their amusement irritated him.
‘Gone to find some suitable travelling clothes in your bedchamber, sir.’ His valet gestured backwards with an incline of his head. ‘I’ve already sent a message to Lord Fennimore appraising him of her whereabouts.’
He didn’t wait to ask more questions. The only thing he cared about was seeing her. Jake crashed through the door and stopped dead in his tracks as the sight of one very feminine, very bare back caught him completely by surprise. Fliss squealed and clutched the front of the nightgown quickly to her chin before she turned around, oblivious to the fact the weak February sun streaming through the window made the gossamer nightgown translucent. Every mouth-watering curve was shown in stark silhouette and the dusty peaks of her breasts were easy to find.
‘Don’t you believe in knocking!’
‘I was worried about you.’
‘Oh, please! I doubt you’ve given me a single thought in the hours you’ve been out philandering!’ The snippy, jealous tone buoyed him. ‘Why—your shirt is undone and you’re not even wearing a cravat. It’s obvious you have just fallen out of some hussy’s bed!’
‘I haven’t been out philandering and I haven’t been in anything resembling a bed in days.’ He quietly closed the door behind him and leaned against it, enjoying the way the daylight picked out the rich caramel tones in her hair as it tumbled over her naked shoulders. ‘There have also been no hussies. Nor have there been since the night I met you at Almack’s.’ After his epiphany on the marshes, he had promised himself he would tell her nothing but the whole truth going forward—if he was ever given the chance to. Now that she was here, there was no time like the present. ‘I fear you have ruined me for all other women, Fliss. I’ve missed you.’ At her disbelieving eye roll he smiled. ‘If you must know, I’ve been in Fobbing.’
‘Fobbing is a place?’
‘A very cold and damp place. Filled with smuggled brandy ferried down the Thames on barges.’ As he spoke she wiggled her arms back into the nightgown and tightly tied the ribbons at her neck. Jake decided not to tell her it made precious little difference. Thanks to the blessed return of the sun his view was still spectacular and the wiggling, combined with her presence, was doing wonders in taking his mind off his exhaustion. As were the erotic spectacles she had primly placed back on her delectable nose. ‘Thanks to you we intercepted a fresh delivery and then discovered where the rest of the contraband was hidden.’
‘Ah... My useless information proved not to be useless at all, then. I did wonder if I was responsible for my uncle’s irrational behaviour yesterday.’ She sank down to sit on the bed. His bed. The home of those fevered dreams and yearning. The irony was not lost on him. ‘Hardly a surprise, then, that suspicion fell on me.’
Jake should have anticipated that and the guilt was instant. ‘I put you in danger and then wasn’t there for you.’ Instead, he had insisted on accompanying Leatham when he should have remained watching over her.
For the first time since she had discovered his mission, Fliss smiled kindly. ‘I seem to recall I put myself in danger. You were dead set against it. Mind you, I might not have been so gracious had I known my uncle and his associates would happily kill me and those two dear old ladies out there to save his own sorry hide. Still, we escaped. I didn’t know where else to go.’
‘I’m glad you came to me. Fliss, I know now is not a good time, but I need to explain.’ Her eyes lifted to his—they were so troubled and sad he had to go to her, but as he sat down on the mattress beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to draw her into his embrace, she folded her arms across her chest and angled her body ever so slightly away from his. The message was clear. She didn’t want his comfort. Coming here had been a last resort. The knowledge cut like a knife into his poor, confused and ill-prepared heart.
‘There is nothing to explain.’ She stood and, still hugging her body, calmly put several feet between them. ‘They are dangerous men and the world will be a better place with them off the streets. You did what you had to do. What you are trained to do. We don’t need to discuss it.’
‘But, Fliss...’
‘Please, Jake, don’t.’ Her golden eyebrows pleaded with him to stop and her eyes glistened with pain, then both faded only to be replaced with that flat, emotionless stare which destroyed him.
‘We do.’ He rose and edged towards her, his palms flat, imploring. He owed her the truth. What she did with it was up to her, but if there was any hope for them it had to start with honesty. ‘To begin with, my pursuit of you was a mission, but from the outset I struggled with it. Before I knew who you were I was drawn to you, and then...’ He sighed, not quite knowing how to put it all into words. The feelings he had for Fliss were so new and so different from any he had wrestled with before. They had broadsided him. ‘I wish I’d been honest with you sooner.’ Although would he have been? Knowing there were messy and complicated feelings involved, he knew himself too well to believe he’d have done anything differently if he’d have had any whiff of what was happening to his heart. If anything, Jake would have panicked and doubled his efforts to seduce her quickly so that he could get away. He’d spent a lifetime avoiding the painful emotion which came when a man and a woman became too attached. ‘And I wish I had been able to tell you the truth myself. The way you found out...the timing...well, it was not as I would have wanted.’
‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. I wish I had never wandered into that alcove in Almack’s.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
She shrugged and walked to the window, denying him the chance to watch her face to know for sure. ‘I saw him. The Londoner, I mean. He was dark. Swarthy. His hair was black, I think, and he had bushy whiskers and a moustache. His nose was quite Roman. If I were to hazard a guess I would say it had been badly broken many times. He wasn’t as tall as you, maybe an inch or so off six feet, but much stockier. Very big hands. Very frightening.’
Slowly, Jake had come to stand behind her. He resisted the urge to touch her, sensing it wouldn’t be welcome. ‘Information you can tell Lord Fennimore when he arrives. I want to talk about us.’
‘There is no us, Jake.’
‘I want there to be.’ When she didn’t respond, he risked putting one hand on her hip before allowing it to coil possessively around her waist. ‘I know I am the very last sort of man you want. I have a past. One I’m not particularly proud of now. But the truth is, my heart...’ His throat choked with emotion. Every messy and complicated feeling was suddenly clawing its way up his neck and demanding to be let out. It was both terrifying and humbling, but at least it was honest. She shifted round and was staring into his eyes so intently he felt vulnerable and exposed, and he couldn’t bear to see her expression in case she rejected him. Instead he closed his eyes. ‘The truth is my heart is yours now. I... I love you, Fliss.’ He exhaled, then instantly sucked in a breath to hold as he waited for her response.
She turned away and her head fell back to rest on his shoulder while her eyes stared out of the window. For several long moments, they simply stood there. Jake waiting. Fliss thinking. When she stiffened he knew he’d lost.
‘I don’t trust you, Jake.’
She gently prised his arm away and turned to face him again. He could see the doubt warring with some other powerful emotion. He hoped it was affection or temptation for him. Her lovely face was etched with pain. Seeing his wise northern owl with a broken wing of his making was eating him from the inside like a cancer. ‘Do you think you might be able to? One day?’ Again, she didn’t respond straight away which gave him some hope. The tiny flame warmed his battered heart. A decisive flat no would have taken no thought.
‘I don’t know, Jake.’
That had to be enough until he worked out a solution and there and then he decided he had to find a solution. He had to find a way to make the badness good. A way to earn her forgiveness and her trust again. Even if it took him a lifetime.
A lifetime!
Good grief, he was doomed. Or blessed. Or just plain mad to be contemplating for ever with any woman, let alone the one who saw straight through him. Yet in her time of need, she had come to him first. That had to count for something.
‘I’ll make this right, Fliss. I swear it.’
Her lovely eyes searched his for the truth and he held her stare this time, willing her to see it. Jake wanted to hold her and reassure her it would be all right. He took a step forward to do exactly that, but the soft knock on the door was followed by his valet’s voice.
‘Lord Fennimore is here and so are the others. There has been a complication, sir.’