Chapter 40
HARBOR SECRETS
Richard filed his papers in a leather satchel that he returned to the Mary Catherine.
Before climbing the gangway, he heard laughter—genuine laughter that made him look toward the sound without conscious thought.
A woman stood among the fishermen, speaking their language with easy fluency.
The scene made him forget what he had discovered about Captain Fink.
He watched Mrs. Bell in animated conversation. The simple sight of sunlight catching on a strand of her hair rendered his military-trained mind completely useless.
She laughed at one of the old sailors’ jokes, and for a moment Richard forgot why he was standing there.
He forced his attention back to his purpose, irritated with himself for the lapse in focus.
Yet before he put one foot on the planking, he found his attention drifting toward Mrs. Bell again despite his efforts at discipline. She was a distraction.
Minutes later, he sat across from her in the ship’s galley.
“Surely, Mr. Darcy and the others have reached Rome by now,” she said, pouring herself a second cup of tea. “They seemed excited about their plans.”
Richard noted how she had arranged her hair into a practical style that was somehow both modest and becoming. When she looked up from her teacup, her green eyes held an intelligence and kindness that he was beginning to find dangerously appealing.
“Would you like tea?” she offered.
Focus on the mission, he reminded himself sternly, forcing his attention back to their conversation. Her lovely form as she rose to refill the pot, which he absolutely refused to allow himself to spend time considering, moved with an efficiency and grace that spoke of both strength and femininity.
“I thank you.” Waiting until she was again seated, he said, “I hope they discover the clue to our treasure hunt directly. With that said, I find the local maritime activity fascinating.” He studied her carefully.
Mrs. Bell met his gaze without flinching. “One learns to observe when one’s livelihood depends on understanding the currents of commerce and politics in foreign ports.”
“Currents of politics.” Richard leaned back, forcing himself to glance away from her. “An interesting phrase. Most widows traveling for their health speak of currents of sea air and Mediterranean sunshine.”
“You have experience with many traveling widows? I would have thought you were far too busy…” Mrs. Bell’s smile widened. She glanced at the cook to make sure he was occupied. “Too busy saving the world to notice the plight of so many.”
“Ha!” He chuckled, caught in a trap of his own making, reminding him that she was not a woman who required protecting. Despite this, Richard’s nature responded to her presence with protective instincts he had not expected.
“Colonel, most widows traveling for their health do not possess seven years of experience navigating these particular waters during wartime,” she replied.
Richard caught himself admiring the graceful way she moved as she spoke.
“Walk with me.” Standing abruptly before his brain could wander further into inappropriate territory, he offered his arm. “The harbor air might clear our heads.”
They strolled along the waterfront, maintaining the appearance of casual tourists while speaking in low tones.
Richard was exceedingly aware of the way she moved with confidence, the manner in which she observed their surroundings with the same systematic attention he brought to military reconnaissance, and the soft sound of her voice when she spoke.
“Mrs. Bell, do you recall back in Portugal when you overheard a merchant mention L’Ombre?”
“The traitor’s nickname. I do. That was when you explained that you were not merely a cousin accompanying Mr. Darcy.”
Richard drew closer. “This is the first time in my military career that I have been asked to be someone I am not. I fear that I fail more than I succeed.”
Mrs. Bell was quiet for several moments, and Richard studied her profile as a fishing boat navigated between larger vessels. The sun revealed the fine texture of her skin and the determined set of her chin, which spoke of inner strength and resolve.
“Sir, when you asked me about French naval activities with the precision of someone trained in intelligence gathering, I knew you were more than a merchant. So, I did what any curious woman would do. I asked Elizabeth.”
He arched his brow.
“Colonel, your questions were too specific, too systematic for civilian curiosity. As long as you do not do the same with others, you should do well enough, sir.”
Richard nodded slowly, admiring her analytical capabilities as much as her appearance. “And you answered them with the expertise of someone who has been observing the same activities for some time. Methinks you are more than a mere traveling companion for Miss Bennet, am I correct?”
“Perhaps.”
Before Mrs. Bell could respond further, Richard caught sight of a familiar figure near the harbor’s edge, well beyond the busy commercial district. Captain Fink stood in conversation with a man whose clothing and bearing suggested he was not British.
As they observed the brief exchange from behind a stack of cargo crates, Richard was acutely aware of Mrs. Bell’s proximity. When she leaned closer to better observe the meeting, he caught the faint scent of rose in her hair and had to resist the inappropriate urge to move closer still.
When Captain Fink handed his companion what appeared to be a folded document, Richard’s muscles tensed with the instinct to move closer. Before he could act on the impulse, Mrs. Bell placed her hand on his arm to restrain him.
Her touch sent shock waves straight to his brain, robbing him of sense.
“Colonel,” she whispered urgently. “We must not draw attention to ourselves. If they notice us observing them…”
“But we cannot hear what they are discussing from this distance,” he replied with suppressed frustration. “If we could move closer…”
“And risk exposing our interest in their activities?” Mrs. Bell kept her voice low but firm. “That would end any possibility of future observation.”
Before they could move, Fink and the other man parted ways. Blast!
Concluding their surveillance, they returned to the Mary Catherine.
Richard reflected on the dangerous territory he was entering.
Mrs. Bell proved herself to be exactly the sort of partner he needed for this investigation.
However, she was also becoming the sort of woman he could easily imagine wanting for reasons that had nothing to do with Crown service.
For now, he would focus on their shared mission and try to ignore the increasingly difficult task of maintaining professional detachment, even as everything about Prudence Bell seemed designed to capture both his attention and his admiration.