Historical Romance Boxed Set (50 page)

Treynor chuckled. “If only for the chance, I have no doubt you’d be trailing a skirt as well. Anyway, I’d rather they have their fun here. The
Tempest
looks like a bawdy house whenever we put in.” Tossing back the remainder of his ale, he left the room with only a slight sway in his step to reveal that he, too, had indulged in his share of drink.

As Jeannette watched him go, a plan formed in her head. The sailors were leaving early in the morning and, according to the man called Dade, they were heading straight to London, which would probably take about two days.

Any other form of transportation would take at least a week.

* * *

Rain thrummed on the windows of the baron’s drawing room, slapping the glass and cascading down in sheets. The wind howled through the eaves as well, bending the trees against the house and drawing Percy’s attention to the dark night beyond.

His bride had gone missing more than three hours ago. But she was out there …somewhere.

“Will you not answer to these charges?” the count demanded when he didn’t speak.

Percy turned from the window and once again faced his bride’s family. “It’s rubbish, of course. No more than the wild imaginings of your boy here, I suspect. What other answer could there be?”

Henri stood in the middle of the floor, his face flushed. “I imagined nothing,
monsieur
. Those men talked of my sister. I heard them say ‘Jeannette’ and make”—his eyes darted back to his parents—”certain disrespectful remarks regarding her beauty and …’ripeness.’”

“
Mon Dieu!
” The count jumped to his feet while his wife remained on the sofa, crying. “I demand an explanation!”

“The charges are ridiculous.” St. Ives ignored Henri and directed his comments to Jeannette’s father instead. “Whoever the boy heard—and he gives no names—could have been drunk and talking about their own lustful fantasies. Surely you can see that.”

“I see nothing,
monsieur
, only that my daughter is missing. My son—” the Comte de Lumfere motioned to Henry “—seems to offer the only clue.”

Percy drew himself up to his full height, however lacking he knew that to be. “I beg your pardon, sir. Does my reputation not count for anything in France? Does the blessing your own cousin, Lord Darby, gave this wedding not stand as a witness in my favor?”

“Until I get my daughter back safely, I care little for a man’s reputation, or another’s recommendation.”

The baron strove to keep a tight rein on his temper. It had been a humiliating, disastrous evening. But at least the Bouchers had come to him with their accusations instead of adding to his problems by simply disappearing as their daughter had.

“I realize how difficult this must be for you.” Percy kept his voice as level as possible. “But please try to understand my own dismay. This unfortunate misunderstanding has poisoned my wife against me. Do you not see? We are both victims.”

The Comte de Lumfere grunted. “Jeannette would not have offended you without good reason.”

Percy eased himself into a chair, trying not to wince at the pain such movement caused his gouty foot. He was so tired; they were all tired. It was getting late. The guests who had traveled long distances slept in the east wing. The others had departed. Even most of the servants had retired for the night. Except for the steady rain outside, the crackle of the fire to his right, and the echo of their own conversation, the house was quiet.

“She was misled. It is as simple as that,” Percy insisted when he felt capable of sounding calm. “And I am as concerned as you. We must find my wife before something terrible happens.”

“We
will
find her,
monsieur
, and when we do, we will surely get to the bottom of this matter—”

A brisk knock interrupted. At Percy’s command, Sir Thomas and Desmond entered, pulling a sopping Richard Manville along with them.

The baron came to his feet as quickly as he could. “Sir Thomas? What have you here? You’re supposed to be searching for my wife.”

“That’s him,” Henri exclaimed, pointing a finger at Richard. “That is the man I heard talking about Jeannette.”

“Mr. Manville?” Percy asked.

“
Oui
. ‘Tis him. I swear it is.”

Sir Thomas nodded. “I am afraid the boy is right. My brother has a confession to make.”

Percy looked to Manville. “Spit it out, man. What went on here this night? I have never been accused of such heinous crimes and would dearly love to hear the truth of it. What have you to say?”

Manville doffed his hat and twisted it in his hands. The effects of the drink he’d imbibed earlier had worn off, or Thomas had sobered him up. Percy didn’t know which. At this point, neither did he care.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” the big man mumbled. “I was only havin’ some fun, tryin’ to get the fellows’ blood up, you know.”

Percy made a sound of incredulity. “Having fun? Do you know what damage your ‘fun’ has caused me?”

Richard’s gaze darted to Henri before returning to Percy. “I am afraid so. It is my words that caused your new wife to run off, is it not?”

“You maligned my honor and spoke of my bride with disrespect!”

Manville nodded, his eyes now focused on the carpet. “I am terribly sorry, milord. I will help search for her, do anything I can to make amends—”

“But he wasn’t alone in it,” Henri piped up. “There were others placing wagers as if …well …as if what Mr. Manville said about Jeannette was not shocking at all.”

“I take full responsibility,” Richard said without argument. “It was all my doing, my own strange sense of humor. And look at the grief I have caused.”

Jeannette’s father opened and closed his hands in an obvious effort to keep himself from throttling Richard. After a moment, he gained control and offered Percy a stiff bow. “I apologize as well, Lord St. Ives, for our momentary lack of faith. But now that we have learned the truth, I hope you will not fault our daughter for reacting as any other virtuous woman would in the same circumstance. I assure you, she is a good girl, just as a young bride should be.”

Hallelujah
. Percy breathed a sigh of relief and returned the bow. “No need to worry. Once we have found my lady, we simply need to convince her of her mistake and all will be well, eh?”

Tapping his cane on the floor like a gavel, the baron turned to Thomas, Desmond, and Richard. “I want the three of you back out there searching, all night if necessary. There is no telling the dangers that might befall a woman alone. My young bride could be set upon by highwaymen or brigands or worse—”

“My lord?”

It was Henri who interrupted. Percy paused long enough to give the boy a chance to speak, but he’d heard just about all he wanted to hear from him already.

Henri looked hesitant, but at his father’s nod, he finally said, “My sister is on her way to London,
monsieur
. We were to meet her there in two weeks’ time.”

Percival Borden smiled. “Why, thank you, Henri. We will certainly find her more quickly now that our search has some direction. Sir Thomas? If you, Desmond, and Richard will follow me, I have a map in my study. We will mark out all possible routes to London, and thereby save ourselves considerable time.”

“I will go, too,” the Comte de Lumfere volunteered, but Percy shook his head.

“Thank you, but no. Your good wife is considerably distressed. She should not be denied the comfort of your company. I will ring for a maid to show you to your rooms. Try and rest—and do not fear. Your daughter will be back with us, where she belongs, come morning.”

Forcing his creaking joints to move, Percy left Jeannette’s family behind and followed his friends into the hall, closing the door with a soft thud behind him.

Then he reached out to clutch Thomas’s arm. “What took you so bloody long?” he snarled.

Chapter 4

Jeannette waited until the sailors had left the tavern’s main room before creeping up the stairs. Silently traversing the long hall that branched off into a dozen bedrooms or more, she paused outside each portal to hear the sounds coming from within. Her hair had dried, but her clothes were still damp enough to make her shiver. She couldn’t wait to rid herself of the wet, muddy garments. How she would filch Dade’s tattered white breeches and striped shirt, or the clothes of another sailor, was quite another question.

In the last room on the left, she heard nothing but snoring and moved on. In the next, the movement of someone preparing for bed. Where were Molly and Dade?

A giggle two doors down answered Jeannette’s question. Whether it was Molly or the maid who had accompanied the other seaman didn’t matter.

She peered nervously behind her. No one was coming.

As she turned the latch and pushed, the door squealed on its hinges, making her fear a loud protest from those inside. But, as she’d hoped, the couple remained too preoccupied to notice. Heart ticking triple time, Jeannette slipped inside.

“Give
me
some blankets.” It was a female voice—Molly’s.

Trying to ignore what was going on in the bed only a few feet away, Jeannette scanned the room. The moonlight streaming in at the window lent just enough of a glow for her to see the outline of various shapes. Male and female garments littered the floor, but she couldn’t tell Dade’s from Molly’s, so she snatched up the lot, including a pair of boots, and crept back toward the hall.

“That’s it, my girl, there you go,” Dade whispered as the sound of kissing, then giggling, came from the direction of the bed.

Jeannette’s cheeks flushed hot. She had to get out of the room and find somewhere to change, somewhere she could take the time to feel each garment and determine between them. But where?

Molly began to moan, and Jeannette no longer cared. She slipped into the hall, closed the door and considered herself lucky to be away. Lovemaking wasn’t anything like what she had pictured. It wasn’t quick or pristine or polite. What she’d witnessed was intimate and personal …far
too
personal.

Shaking her head to clear it of the images that remained, Jeannette searched for a place to change. She couldn’t go back to the common room. Neither could she strip in the alley. Some of the rooms might be vacant, but which ones?

The quiet settling of the inn emboldened her. She stole into the darkest corner of the hall and began to sort Dade’s clothes from Molly’s. She was likely to catch her death if she didn’t make haste.

Once she had her own wet garments on the floor, she grasped the young tar’s breeches and pulled them up over her hips. But before she could don his shirt and boots, she heard a tread on the stair. Panicked, she darted into the closest room. She’d hoped to find it empty or its occupant fast asleep, but the second she entered, the bed creaked and something sprang at her out of the darkness, slamming her to the ground.

“What are you doing sneaking about in the dark? Who are you?” the man who’d just tackled her demanded.

Jeannette couldn’t speak. The air had been knocked from her lungs, but she recognized that voice. She was partially undressed beneath the lieutenant she’d seen downstairs, who was similarly without a shirt.

Of all rooms, she thought.

Treynor grasped her shoulders. “Molly? My, you are a lusty wench.” His voice revealed irritation, impatience. “What are you doing creeping into my room? How did you lose Dade? Don’t tell me he’s finished with you already.”

“He …he …passed out,” Jeannette croaked with what little breath she could summon. Her safety depended upon this man not seeing her face or learning she was a stranger, but her accent could also give her away.

“You’re freezing,” he said on a sigh. “Did I hurt you?”

Grateful for the spirits she could smell on his breath, Jeannette shook her head. She could only hope his wits were dulled enough to conceal the more obvious differences between herself and the barmaid.

“Come on, then, if you’re so eager,” he said gruffly, rolling off her. “Perhaps I could use a diversion after all.”

Rising, he reached down to help her up.

Jeannette’s eyes cut to the door. She wanted to flee, but feared she wouldn’t make the hall before the lieutenant caught her. Judging by his lithe movements, he could intercept her in a second, if he tried. Yet she dared not protest or speak again because of her accent.

She allowed him to help her up and reluctantly followed when he pulled her to the bed.

“What? You have nothing to say?” He chuckled as Jeannette tried to jerk away, then turned and dropped back onto the bed, pulling her down on top of him.

The sensation caused by the renewed contact of their bodies made Jeannette gasp. His warm, sinewy flesh felt even better than she had imagined, watching him downstairs. She tried to ignore the strange yet evocative sensation of skin on skin—not at all easy the moment a much more private body part stirred to life against her leg.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said when she nearly bolted again. “You have nothing to do with my foul mood, and I think you’re right. A few moments with your warm, generous body, and I will be good as new.” His mouth slanted across hers, roughly insistent. Then, reining in whatever had prompted the harshness of his kiss, he rolled her onto her back and added, “Be calm. I won’t hurt you.”