Page 96 of Captain Jack’s Woman

Determination beating steady in her veins, Kit set out another sheet of paper and settled to write a letter to her errant spouse.

* * *

Jack arrived home on Monday evening. He’d had to wait until that morning to speak to Lord Whitley. Various schemes were already afoot to flush out the man they believed was Belville’s Henry. All that remained was to wait for Anthony’s return, to see if there were any more traitors to track down. They were nearly there.

With a deep sigh, Jack climbed the steps to his front door. Lovis opened it to him.

“My lord. Mr. Smeaton asked you be given this the instant you crossed the threshold.”

Jack tore open the single sheet. George’s writing took a moment to decipher. Then Jack heaved a weary sigh. He hesitated, wondering whether to send a message up to Kit. He wouldn’t be back in time for dinner. It was doubtful he’d be back before she was abed. With a slow grin, he went back out the door. Much better to take her by surprise. “I’ll return later tonight, Lovis. No need to tell anyone I was here.”

At the cottage, he was greeted by a much-improved Sir Anthony. George was not there to hear the recounting of Antoine’s adventures; he’d been summoned to a Gresham dinner.

“One of the trials of an affianced man.” Grinning, Jack pulled up a chair, straddling it. It transpired that the French had tracked Antoine down, not out of suspicion, but in order to interrogate him in case he knew more than he’d yet revealed. He’d escaped by stowing away aboard a lighter bound for Boston on the other side of the Wash. Unfortunately, it had also turned out to be a smugglers’ vessel. Smugglers did not like stowaways; he’d had to fight his way off, throwing himself overboard before they’d skewered him.

Anthony’s tale suggested that the French were desperate for information. The news that there were only two traitors left was music to Jack’s ears. “We’ve got them.” Quickly, he filled Anthony in on the happenings on the beach after he’d taken ship, referring to Kit only as another member of the Gang.

“George said something about that,” Anthony said. “But he said he’d leave it to you to elaborate as you ‘had a deeper interest in Belville’s death.’ What on earth did he mean?”

Jack had the grace to blush. “Don’t ask.”

Anthony threw him a look of mock surprise. “Keeping secrets from your friends, Jack m’lad, is most unwise.”

“You’ll meet this secret eventually so I wouldn’t repine.” At the intrigued look on Anthony’s, face, Jack continued quickly: “Whitley thinks Belville’s Henry, whom we believe is Sir Henry Colebourne, will be behind bars in a few days at most. Which, together with your information, means the end is nigh. We’ll have got them all.”

Anthony lay back on his pillows with a deep sigh. “However will they get along without us, now we’ve all sold out?”

“I’m sure they’ll manage. Personally, I’ve got fresh fields to plow, so to speak.” Jack’s smile of anticipation was transparent.

Anthony’s gaze descended from the ceiling to examine the odd sight of Jack’s eagerness for civilian life. “I don’t suppose,” he said, “your newfound liking for peaceful endeavors has anything to do with the redheaded lad who brought me here?” At Jack’s arrested expression, Anthony quietly added: “Taken to the other side, Jack?”

Jack bit back a distinctly rude reply. His eyes gleamed. “From which comment I take it my wife was wearing breeches when she brought you here?”

“Your wife?” Anthony’s exclamation brought on a fit of coughing. When he’d recovered, he lay back on his pillows and fixed Jack with an astonished stare. “Wife?”

Jack nodded, unable to contain his smile. “You’ve had the pleasure of meeting Kathryn, Lady Hendon, better known as Kit.” He paused, then shrugged. “It was she who shot Belville.”

“Oh.” Anthony struggled to match fact with memory. “How on earth did that slip of a thing get me from the beach to here?”

Jack stood. “Probably sheer determination. It’s a quality she has in abundance. I’ll leave you now, Tony.” He walked forward to drop a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “I’ll send Matthew in the morning with a horse to move you up to the Castle. Rest assured I’ll get your news to Whitley as soon as possible. He’ll be relieved to know we’ve got them all.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Anthony lay quiet on his pillows and watched Jack walk to the door. “But why the hurry to leave?”

Jack paused. “A little matter of propriety I have to discuss with my wife. Not something a rake like you would understand.”

Closing the door on his friend’s “Oh-ho!”, Jack strode to the stable. He hadn’t actually caught her in her breeches, but it was close enough, surely?

Anticipation was riding high by the time he reached the house. He entered through the side door, picking up the single candle to light his way. He went straight to his wife’s room.

And stopped short when the light from his candle revealed an undisturbed expanse of green satin, with no deliciously curved form snuggling beneath.

For a moment, he simply stared, unable to think. Then, his heart thumping oddly, he went through to his own room. She was not in his bed, either. The sight of the simple white square propped against his pillow caused his hand to shake, spilling wax to the floor.

Drawing a deep breath, Jack put the candle down on the table by the bed and, sinking onto the mattress, picked up the letter. Kit’s delicate script declared it was for Jonathon, Lord Hendon. The sight of his proper given name was warning enough.

His lips set in a grim line, Jack tore open the missive.

Her formality had apparently been reserved for the title. Inside, her message was direct and succinct.