Cinderella Sister (44 page)

He touched her lips with the tip of his finger and a smile lit his eyes. ‘Very well, I’ll telegraph Sir Cloudesley and you can book our passage on the steam packet to France. That way we might even be able to give Smith the slip.’

Leaning over the rails of the paddle steamer, Lily watched the white cliffs of Dover until they disappeared from view. Gabriel’s arm around her shoulders gave her a feeling of warmth and security. Nothing else seemed to matter as the ship sped towards France quite literally under its own steam. As the salt wind whipped her hair from beneath her bonnet and a fine mist of sea spray moistened her lips, she could only marvel at modern machines that defied the wind and tide. Grandpa had always said that one day steam would take over from sail, but she had not believed him until now. She could feel the engine throbbing like
a beating heart through the deck timbers, accompanied by the plashing of the paddlewheel as it sliced through the waves. If they had not been on such an urgent quest she would have been happier now than at any given moment in her life. She was in the arms of the man she loved, and now that they had lost sight of land they were free from the cares and worries of the people on shore. She smiled up into Gabriel’s face and she knew for certain that he shared and understood her feelings.

‘Well, so here you are.’

Christian’s coarse voice shattered the moment into a million tiny shards.

‘I thought we’d left you behind in Dover,’ Gabriel said calmly.

Lily felt his fingers tighten on her shoulder and she saw his jawline harden.

‘Not a chance, guv. I told you I was following the story.’ Christian doffed his hat to Lily. ‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds to enjoy the trip, but I’ll be there when we land in Calais. My editor can’t wait to have the rest of the story. Will it be pistols at dawn? If you need a second, I’ll be only too willing to oblige.’ He strolled away, adopting a rolling gait to compensate for the movement of the deck beneath his feet.

‘You won’t fight Armand, will you?’ Lily could barely frame the words. Until Christian mentioned such an outcome, the possibility of a duel had never crossed her mind.

‘Not I, darling. I’m not a coward but neither am I foolhardy.’ He twisted a stray lock of her hair round
his finger and his smile faded. ‘You do realise that your own reputation will be compromised by the very fact that you’ve accompanied me?’

‘I don’t care what anyone says or thinks. I never want to be parted from you, Gabriel.’

‘That’s just as well then, since we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together.’ Drawing her into his arms, Gabriel’s mouth sought hers in a salty kiss.

It was dark when the paddle steamer moored alongside the quay wall in Calais.

‘Where are we going first?’

Gabriel turned on Christian with a snarl. ‘Go away, Smith. We don’t want anything to do with you.’

‘Come now, that’s not the attitude. I’ve got contacts over here as well as in England and I can help you to find the runaways. On your own you’ll struggle with the language and waste precious time. Unless of course you think you know better.’ Christian struck a pose, angling his head with a cocky grin.

Lily tugged at Gabriel’s sleeve. ‘He’s right, even though I hate to admit it. We could go all the way to Paris and still not find them.’

Gabriel hesitated, eyeing Christian thoughtfully. ‘Very well, as time is of the essence, what do you suggest?’

‘I know an inn on the outskirts of the town where we can get a decent meal and a clean bed for the night. There’s no point trying to follow them until daylight, and in the meantime I’ll make a few enquiries.’

‘You speak French?’ Lily asked.

‘My mother was born in Calais. She was lady’s maid working in a mansion up West, and my pa was a footman. I’ve got scores of relations in this town, all of ’em nosy buggers like me, so it shouldn’t be hard to find someone who’s seen Labrosse and your sister. She’s not the sort you could pass by without a second glance.’

‘We can manage on our own, thanks,’ Gabriel said stiffly.

Lily squeezed his hand. ‘No, Gabriel. That’s just your pride talking. I think we should accept Christian’s help if it means we get to Molly sooner.’ She thought for a moment that he was going to be stubborn, but a reluctant smile lit his face and he raised her hand to his lips.

‘You’re right, Lily. Go ahead, Smith. Lead on.’

The inn was packed with customers and the air was thick with strange-smelling tobacco smoke and the mixed odours of garlic, wine and brandy. Christian spoke the language fluently enough to order a meal and book rooms for the night. Translating the innkeeper’s response, Christian announced with a deep-throated chuckle that Lily and Gabriel would have to share a bed. Lily’s heart leapt but a quick glance in Gabriel’s direction put paid to all thoughts of a night spent in his arms. In the end it was Christian and Gabriel who shared a room and Lily went to bed alone.

Next morning, after a breakfast of croissants washed down with several cups of coffee, they set off in the direction of Paris, following a report from one of
Christian’s many cousins that a young woman answering to Molly’s description had been seen getting into a private carriage accompanied by a man with a decided limp. This was enough to convince Lily that they were on the right track, and Christian went off to hire a vehicle that would take them on to Paris.

The carriage when it arrived turned out to be a rickety contraption that smelt strongly of the farmyard, with straw on the floor and worn leather squabs, but as it was the only transport available they had no choice other than pay for its hire. The driver, who turned out to be Christian’s second cousin once removed, wore a tricorne hat and a caped greatcoat with a greenish tinge to the material which suggested it might have once belonged to the man’s grandfather or even his great-grandfather. Taciturn and patently disapproving of foreigners, he refused to hurry his ageing nag. Christian elected to ride on the box beside his relative, leaving Lily and Gabriel to endure the discomfort of travelling inside the vehicle as it rattled over ruts and potholes on the uneven road surface.

‘How far is it to Paris?’ Lily asked after enduring two hours of the bone-shaking journey.

‘Over a hundred miles,’ Gabriel said grimly. ‘And at this rate it will take us several days to get there.’

‘We’ll be too late,’ Lily murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. ‘If he doesn’t marry her she’ll be ruined, just as Nell predicted.’

‘He’ll do the right thing, I promise you that.’ Gabriel tightened his arm around her waist.

Lily closed her eyes. She was emotionally exhausted
and physically tired after a sleepless night spent in the stuffy bedroom at the inn, with the noise from the bar continuing into the small hours followed by the clarion call of an amorous cockerel that began before dawn. The rocking and swaying of the vehicle lulled her into a deep sleep from which she was rudely awakened by a sudden jolt as the carriage came to a halt.

‘What’s happened?’ she demanded, blinking as the sunlight streamed through the open door. But Gabriel had already alighted and she could hear raised voices. Struggling to her feet, she clambered to the ground, shielding her eyes as she took in the scene of chaos ahead of them. Christian’s cousin was attempting to quieten a pair of horses that had broken loose from the shafts of an upturned carriage. The driver lay in a motionless heap at the roadside and Lily approached him warily, praying silently that he was not dead. She looked to Gabriel for assistance, but he had scaled the body of the carriage and was tugging at the door in an attempt to free the occupants. Christian climbed up beside him and they worked together. There was nothing Lily could do to help them and she went down on her knees beside the coachman. She loosened his cravat and was relieved to find that he was breathing.

‘Monsieur,’ she said, giving him a gentle shake. ‘Are you all right?’

He opened one eye, staring at her dazedly. ‘Don’t parley French.’

‘Neither do I.’ Lily breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I thought you were dead, mister.’

He raised himself on one elbow, holding his hand to his head. ‘Not a chance, ducks, but I got a lump the size of an egg on me head. Fetch us a drop of brandy, will you? I keep a flask in the bottom of the box seat for emergencies.’

Lily rose to her feet. ‘I don’t think it’s there now,’ she said, eyeing the splintered remains of the coach.

He dragged himself to a standing position. ‘What a bloody mess. I’ll get the sack for this, but it weren’t my fault.’

Lily was torn between paying attention to the coachman’s tale of woe and watching Gabriel perched precariously on top of the coach. ‘Be careful,’ she cried anxiously. ‘Do take care, Gabriel.’

‘Is that you, Lily?’ A small voice from the interior of the carriage made Lily’s heart miss a beat.

‘Molly?’ She picked up her skirts and raced towards the vehicle despite Gabriel’s warning to stay clear. ‘Molly, it’s all right. We’re here to help you.’

‘Move away,’ Gabriel shouted. ‘This thing could topple over at any moment. Stand back, Lily. We’ll get them out.’ With a mighty heave of his shoulders he wrenched the door open.

Christian leaned inside. ‘Grab my hand, miss.’

‘Madame,’ Molly said loudly. ‘It’s madame, you oaf.’

Tears of laughter and relief trickled down Lily’s cheeks. Only Molly would put her new title before her own safety. ‘Do as he says, Moll.’

Moments later, Christian heaved Molly out of the carriage. She was dusty, dishevelled and visibly angry as Gabriel lifted her to the ground. She pushed him away.
‘Leave me be, you idiot. This gown cost a fortune and your hands are filthy.’

‘A word of thanks wouldn’t go amiss, Molly Larkin.’

She tossed her head and her hair spilled over her shoulders, turning to flame in the pale sunlight. ‘It’s Madame Labrosse now, Mr Faulkner. I’m a respectable married woman.’

‘So he did the right thing,’ Gabriel said wryly. ‘That’s something, I suppose.’

‘It’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for you.’ Lily wrapped her arms around Molly, giving her an affectionate hug. ‘But is Armand all right?’

Molly’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, dear. I don’t know. It was dark in there and everything was upside down.’

Christian lowered himself into the shell of the carriage. There was a moment’s silence as everyone held their breath. A cold breeze rustled through the trees on either side of the road, and in the distance Lily could hear the rumble of steel-rimmed wheels and the drumming of horses’ hooves. ‘There’s something coming,’ she said anxiously. ‘We must stop them or there’ll be another accident.’

Gabriel leaned into the carriage. ‘Is he all right, Smith? We must get him out quickly.’

‘Can’t tell,’ Christian called faintly. ‘Get down here and give us a hand.’

The body of the carriage rocked dangerously as Gabriel lowered himself into the interior.

‘How did this happen?’ Lily demanded.

‘I don’t know.’ Molly covered her eyes with her
hand. ‘I was asleep and there was a fearful din and a crash …’

Lily turned to the coachman. ‘Please do something.’

He hesitated, staring at her dazedly, but the approaching vehicle was getting closer every second and the sound seemed to register in his confused brain. Acknowledging Lily’s plea with a vague salute, he staggered off along the lane waving his arms in an attempt to flag down the carriage. Lily could hardly bear to look as the driver of the equipage heaved on the reins and the horses slithered to a halt, whinnying with fright and rolling their eyes. The carriage door was flung open and Philippe Labrosse alighted from the vehicle.

‘Oh dear,’ Molly murmured. ‘My father-in-law doesn’t look too pleased. Armand invited him to our wedding, but this is the first time I’ve seen him since he was last in London.’

‘What happened, Walton?’ Philippe addressed himself directly to the coachman. ‘Where is my son?’

Walton pointed a shaky finger at the upturned coach. ‘It was an accident, guv. A wild boar ran out at us terrifying the horses. They bolted and we hit a rut in the road. The wheel came off and the shafts broke. I don’t remember the rest.’

Labrosse slapped him across the face with his glove. ‘Idiot. This wouldn’t have happened if a Frenchman had been driving.’ He turned his angry gaze on Molly, who was attempting to hide behind Lily. ‘You caused this. Am I too late to stop this charade?’

‘My sister is lucky to be alive, sir,’ Lily protested. ‘Please don’t speak to her like that.’

‘This has nothing to do with you.’ Labrosse walked away from them to stand beside the wreck of the carriage. ‘Where is Armand? Where is my son?’

Gabriel stuck his head out of the coach. ‘We’re trying to get him out, Labrosse. Climb up and give us a hand or else keep quiet.’

Philippe beckoned to the coachman. ‘Get up there and help them, Walton.’

‘Me head, guv. It’s splitting.’

‘Do as I say or you’ll be sorry.’

Reluctantly, Walton tried to heave himself onto the coachwork but slid to the ground, clutching his head. Lily ran forward as he attempted to rise to his feet. ‘Stay where you are. You’ll topple the whole thing over.’ She lifted her skirts, tucking them into her drawers as she made her ascent taking care not to upset the delicate balance, which would bring the whole thing crashing down to the ground. She peered into the dark space below. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘He’s cut his head, and I think his arm is broken,’ Gabriel called back. ‘We need something to tie the arm in place before we try to lift him.’

Balancing precariously, Lily slipped off her petticoat and proceeded to tear it into strips. She dropped them into the carriage. ‘Lucky I put on fresh linen yesterday,’ she said, smiling. ‘Ma always said we should wear clean underwear in case we got knocked down by a horse and cart and taken to hospital. It seems she was right.’

‘That’s fine,’ Gabriel called. ‘I’ll buy you a new petticoat as soon as we get back to London.’

‘We’re going to Paris,’ Molly protested. ‘You can get a new petticoat in Paris. I’m sure my husband will be pleased to buy you two or three if you like.’

‘Husband?’ Philippe roared. ‘So I’m too late to stop the young fool from making the worst mistake of his life?’