Page 91 of Souvenir of Love

“Regretfully, I don’t…but perhaps it’s not as bad as all that.” Jervis’s blunt fingers twisted the corner of his tricorne. “After all, it’s only the people here who know she ought to be there. The people there, why, they think she’s here.”

“It is a sad reflection on the years we have spent together and the over-familiarity I have allowed to flourish between us that I comprehend completely what you are trying to say. Unfortunately, Jones, you are wrong. I can name several people who know that Elizabeth is neither here nor at Hartsdale.”

Jervis tugged the tip of his nose. “For sure, now that I think on it, Captain, there’s the coachman. The one who was supposed to deliver Lady Elizabeth to Hartsdale.”

“And who has been delivering letters from my sister,” Rafe prompted.

“Do you think somebody at Hartsdale has been writing them?”

“They are in Elizabeth’s hand, but a number of them have postscripts from Arabella Norcroft.”

“So, Arabella Norcroft’s in on it, too?” Jervis looked thoughtful. “Still, that’s not so bad. Ten to one Elizabeth paid off the coachman.”

“Or blackmailed him,” Rafe muttered, flattening his hands on the desk.

“Either way he won’t let the badger out of the bag. And neither will Arabella, I suspect. Lady Elizabeth is her friend.”

“But Lady Anne Dinsmore is not.”

“What’s she got to do with this? She hasn’t been sniffing around here since you sliced up her brother.”

“Not sniffing here.” Rafe’s fingers beat an ominous tattoo upon the desktop. “But in the village, where just this week my charming mother-in-law encountered her.”

“I don’t suppose”—Jervis pinched his nose—“Lady Elizabeth’s name came up in conversation?”

“Indeed, it did.”

“Oh,” he said grimly, “that’s not good at all.”

“No,” the earl agreed, “it is not.”

Later that evening,as the coach rolled away from the inn where they had stopped to change horses, things felt very wrong to Elizabeth. They were again traveling to the coast with Joley, and she knew she should feel hopeful, but she could not keep her eyes from the empty seats across from her. The seat Marcus had occupied for most of their journey. He was gone, taking his travel desk and art box with their secret compartments, along with his papers, quills, and sketchbook. Andre had ridden off as well to make mysterious arrangements.

For the first time in what seemed forever, she was alone with James; he was sitting beside her, lost in thought, the unscarred side of his beautiful face turned toward the window. Most likely he was thinking of Marcus, too, of how he’d looked as hemounted his horse in the courtyard, lifting his hand in farewell before turning north and riding off. She had no idea what plans he had made to save Joley’s daughter.

If he even had a plan.

James’s mind must be filled with the same concerns. She desperately wanted to tell him that he’d done the right thing, that he’d made the right choice—indeed, he’d had no other choice but to let Marcus go. She wanted to reassure him that Marcus would come through this adventure whole and that Marguerite would be rescued. But she knew if she said these words, they would be empty. She didn’t know these things any more than he did. And if anything should happen to Marcus, James would forever hold himself culpable. He would always feel as he did now, that he should have gone in Marcus’s place.

She reached for his hand, which lay draped loosely across his lap, then withdrew hers. James had made it clear there was no future for them together.We are not man and wife. It is madness to think we can ever be.

If she hadn’t made James take her with them, what then? Would things have turned out differently?Would he have gone back to rescue Marguerite?Elizabeth worried her bottom lip with her teeth, unaware of how hard she was biting until she tasted blood.No, she told herself.James’s first responsibility still would have been to lead Joley and the rest of the company out of France.A wave of relief that he was beside her and not riding for Paris swept over her, followed by a wave of guilt at the selfishness of her love. She closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer for Marcus.Please let him be safe.

“He’ll be fine,” James said, as if reading her mind.

Please, God, let it be so. “Will we wait for him…for them?”

“I wish we could, but we cannot. I have no way of knowing how long it will take to find Marguerite, or even if Marcus willfind her. Nor have I any way of knowing how long it will take them to reach the coast.”

Or if they will reach the coast.

“I cannot put Joley’s or anyone else’s life at risk by waiting. Lord Grenville already knows we are coming. He has a ship waiting for us, just offshore. We will signal for it when we reach the coast tonight.”

“So soon?” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

“So soon?” He repeated her question in a tone of disbelief. “Not soon enough for me. You might have been killed earlier today.”

“But I wasn’t. I’m fine. We’re fine.”