Chapter Fourteen #2
“I’ll send Fuller home with our parcels once we’ve picked up the invitations,” he said, referring to his carriage driver. “He’ll let Harting know not to expect us home until tomorrow. Fuller can return for us first thing in the morning.”
“In the meanwhile,” she said with a nod, “we’ll have the night to ourselves.”
He grunted. “Just us and Clement. How cozy. That is, assuming he makes his long-overdue appearance.”
Gwendolyn almost hoped he wouldn’t.
They stopped by the stationery shop and picked up the invitations.
Gwendolyn was pleased the engraver had done excellent work on such short notice.
Then it was off to reserve rooms at the notorious lovers’ inn James had mentioned, which was situated on the outskirts of Brighton and nestled above a secluded cove.
Called the Sea Sprite Inn, it stood atop a small rise and overlooked the water. Gwendolyn found it surprisingly charming and well kept, but she supposed Brighton’s elite would demand elegant accommodations even while doing their dirty deeds.
The proprietor asked no questions as he led them to the chamber James had reserved for the evening, which turned out to be surprisingly pleasant and airy, although quite sparsely furnished.
One could hear waves breaking against the rocks immediately below their open windows.
“The sound carries,” the proprietor warned, nodding toward the large, canopied bed that dominated the room, leaving no doubt about the purpose of these lodgings.
“I would not leave the windows open when… Well, ye know, m’lord. ”
Milbury cleared his throat. “Yes, I am aware.”
Gwendolyn felt her cheeks turn to fire, realizing what this man was talking about. He thought she and Milbury would be having intimate relations tonight.
Was it a noisy thing?
Heavens.
What had she got herself into?
She had managed to hide her shock when Milbury reserved only the one room for them, immediately understanding the logic of it. A woman alone would not be safe in a place like this.
But she could not hide her embarrassment once she and James were left alone in the room.
He turned to her as soon as the proprietor closed the door behind him. “Forgive me, Gwen. But I dared not request separate rooms. It is too dangerous, especially since we have no idea when and how Clement will make himself known to you. He might decide to pay you a midnight call.”
“You mean sneak into this room?”
He nodded. “You might trust him, but I don’t. Ten years is a long time to be apart. What if he is a changed man?”
“Would a man of honorable character change that much?” she asked.
“Who knows? Was his character ever all that honorable?” He shook his head to dismiss his remark.
“Even if he were a man of highest honor, his experiences on the field of battle will have had an impact on him. The war years took a toll on every man who fought. Few remained unaffected. Many came home feeling lost and purposeless, out of place in a society that had moved beyond the war and often seemed to forget it ever took place.”
“I see.”
“This is why I am adamant about our sharing a room. Clement’s behavior concerns me, and I cannot leave you unprotected.”
Gwendolyn nodded.
“If you are averse to the plan,” he continued, studying her intently, “then it is not too late to scrap it. Fuller can take us home right now.”
She glanced out the window, admiring the lovely view. How odd that she should find herself in such a place with Milbury. “No, we’ve come this far. I am not going to back down now.”
He leaned a shoulder against the window frame. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“There are risks, Gwen. In fact, I would be surprised if Clement showed up at the café tonight. It is very likely he’ll play coy and not make his presence known to us.”
“But he might. Even if he does not show his face, he could follow us to the inn. Will you tell Mr. Marchand where we are staying?”
“Absolutely not. That is too indiscreet. Nor is it necessary, because I’m certain he’s already sent word to Clement about you. It is also quite possible your betrothed has been shadowing you since yesterday.”
“Oh. Do you really think so?” She cleared her throat. “What will he think of our staying at this inn together?”
“Frankly, I don’t care. He’s the one who owes you the explanations, not the other way around.”
“Perhaps our staying here isn’t the brightest idea.”
“Do you wish to leave?”
“I think you are eager to drop this matter entirely, but I wish to draw him out,” she said with conviction. “We’re so close now. I feel it in my bones.”
“Then I suggest we keep to the plan.”
She cast him a grateful smile. “James, thank you for believing in me. You seemed so angry and dismissive at first, I thought I would have to do this on my own.”
“I was never going to let you confront him alone, Gwen.” He grunted.
“What don’t you get about this? You are mine to protect.
I was angry and frustrated. I suppose I still am a good bit of both.
But Fiona kicked sense into me. Whether I believed you or not, I had to see this through with you to the end. ”
Her smile faltered. “You thought I was lying to you?”
James shook his head. “No, never that. I thought you were lying to yourself. That you were so desperate to find Clement that you mistook some other man for him. In truth, until Marchand admitted this morning that your betrothed had been at the café, I was certain you were wrong about what you had seen.”
Gwendolyn sighed. “Until that very moment, I was in doubt, too. I worried that I had gone mad. I don’t blame you for refusing to believe me.”
“No, Gwen. I behaved like an unmitigated boor and needed to apologize to you. I do so humbly once again.”
She accepted his apology, although she did not feel it was merited. Andrew was the boor, not James.
They returned to his carriage to take in a few more sights in the hours remaining until their return to the café.
Brighton was a lively place, although Gwendolyn was too distracted by thoughts of what might happen tonight to pay much attention even to the Royal Pavilion, which was a thing of wonder.
It was early evening by the time they returned to the inn. Milbury helped her down from the carriage, and then turned to Fuller. “You had better return to Milbury Hill before the sun goes down. Hand the parcel of invitations and Lady Gwendolyn’s purchases to Mrs. Harting for safekeeping.”
“Aye, m’lord. Shall I return here after dropping them off?”
“No, come back for us tomorrow morning.”
Gwendolyn wished she had not been standing there to hear the exchange, for it sounded awful to her ears. Fuller would now imagine all sorts of scandalous activities were to take place between them overnight. Would this not get back to everyone on the Milbury Hill staff?
Well, she was not about to change her plans now.
James ordered tea for them, and they sat together sipping and watching the sun sink over the water. As the eight o’clock hour approached, James mentioned that he had arranged for a hackney to take them from the inn to the café.
“Oh? When did you have time to arrange that?”
“I sent word yesterday, reserving the man on the chance we would need him.”
Gwendolyn thought that was quite efficient of him, since as it turned out, they did need him.
James led her downstairs, where the hackney and driver were waiting for them. They hopped in for the quick jaunt to Marchand’s café, which was packed with a bustling supper crowd.
“Return for us at ten o’clock,” he instructed the hackney driver.
“Aye, m’lord.” The man smiled as James dropped several coins in his hand.
The two seemed to exchange significant nods, but Gwendolyn gave this little thought. Her heart was in her throat, for they were about to enter this café that felt as dangerous as a lion’s lair.
Once they did enter, they were seated at the best table and served a delicious oyster stew. But her stomach was in knots and she ate almost none of it.
She and James lingered in the dining room until it neared closing time and they were the last patrons remaining.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The mood was no longer festive but dangerous.
“James, perhaps we ought to leave now.”
“We’ll be all right,” he assured her.
“How? There’s no one around to protect us if we are set upon.”
“Do you think I would ever come here without taking precautions? That hackney driver is actually a former Bow Street Runner. He has been positioned nearby all the while, quietly keeping watch on the place and ready to summon the authorities if Marchand tries anything.” He withdrew his pocket watch and glanced at the time.
“It’s just coming on ten o’clock. He’ll pull up in front of the café now to pick us up. ”
“Will he wait for us if we do not walk out right away?”
“Yes, he’ll wait. And be ready to summon help, if necessary.”
She let out a breath of relief. “I would have botched this completely were I left on my own. It never occurred to me to do anything other than come here and hope Andrew would make an appearance.”
“I had need of this Bow Street man a few years ago on a delicate matter. I sent word to him yesterday detailing the situation. He’s actually been following us for most of the day.”
“That showed great foresight on your part.”
James shrugged. “I do not like to walk into a situation unprepared.”
They waited for an hour beyond closing, sitting quietly while Marchand’s staff cleaned up for the evening.
Andrew never showed up.
Gwendolyn felt more than mere disappointment.
Hurt. Anger. Betrayal.
In truth, she did not recall ever feeling as enraged as she did now. Why was Andrew playing these childish games with her? Not only childish but cruel. Did she not deserve better after all these years?
“Lord Milbury,” Marchand said, approaching the corner table where they had remained seated out of the way while his staff worked around them, “I do not control Mr. Clement. It is obvious he has chosen not to show up this evening. Please, I need to close now.”