A Rose in Winter (41 page)

"Please!" She cast him a quick glare. "This is not a proper discussion, even for cousins!"

Christopher relented, at least for the moment, and allowed her ire to cool. When she was able to take note of her surroundings again, Erienne became aware that the coach was winding its way down to the waterfront. She was relieved when it soon halted, for the confines of the carriage had provided no escape from his unwavering contemplation. Glancing about, she saw that they had stopped near a huge three-masted ship docked close against the quay. A figurehead of a woman with flowing red tresses graced the head of the ship, and the name
Cristina
was carved into the stern.

Christopher opened the door and stepped out. She laid a gloved hand into the one he offered up and descended to the cobbled wharf. Though a smile was in his eyes, he remained silent beneath her quizzical gaze and took her arm through his, leading her past kegs, barrels, and bales of hemp toward the gangplank of the vessel. Other ships were in dock, but none compared to the lady,
Cristina.
Like a proud queen, she stood tall and serene amid her consorts. On board, a man in a blue coat came to where the gangplank touched the ship. When he espied the couple, he smiled and waved a greeting that was immediately returned by Christopher.

"Captain Daniels, have we permission to come aboard?" he called.

The man gave a throaty chuckle and beckoned them aboard. "At your pleasure, Mr. Seton."

The wind ruffled the dark russet hair as Christopher swept off his hat and gave her a rueful grin. "Madam, may I entice you aboard?"

Her gaze flicked over the faces of the men who had come to the rail to appease their curiosity. She could not hear what was being said as they murmured and chuckled together, but she sensed that she and Christopher were the topic of their animated conversation.

"With so many to come to my aid should you prove incapable of continuing your gentlemanly performance, I suppose I shall be safe enough," she quipped.

An amused chuckle came with his reply. "Madam, if we were cast upon a lonely isle with these same men, I'm sure the stress of your beauty would soon overwhelm them, and you would have to depend upon me to provide protection for you. There is not always safety in numbers, my sweet, and sometimes circumstances play a heavy hand upon the actions of men."

Finding no appropriate retort, she accepted the arm he offered and allowed him to escort her across the plank. When she glanced down and saw how far they were above the water, she tightened her grip and tried to dismiss the fact that his arm pressed casually against her breast.

The captain greeted Christopher with a broad smile and a hearty handshake. "Welcome aboard, sir."

Christopher kept her near as he made the introductions. "Erienne, may I present Captain John Daniels, a man I have often sailed the seas with? John, this is the Lady Saxton. I believe you have heard me mention her."

Captain Daniels took the slender, gloved hand between his own and spoke with jovial warmth. "I thought Christopher had lost his senses when he talked about how lovely you were. I am relieved to see that his claims are quite well founded."

Erienne was not displeased with the compliment and murmured her gratitude before she met Christopher's steadfast gaze.

"This is your ship?" she queried and raised her gaze along the tallest mast to where it seemed to touch the underbelly of the sky. The mast rose to a staggering, dizzying height, and she had to look down quickly to set her swaying world aright and was glad for the support of her escort's arm.

"Aye, my lady," Christopher replied. "This one is the largest of the five ships I own."

"Would you care to see her?" the captain offered.

She sensed the man's pride for his ship and laughed gaily. "I was hoping I could."

Captain Daniels walked beside the couple as they moved toward the quarterdeck. Only a brief glance about was enough to assure Erienne that the vessel was well tended and everything was in its place. Christopher held his silence as they descended to the lower decks, allowing the captain the sole privilege of showing off the ship. No more than a third of the hands were aboard, and some of them stared outright as the lady passed, while others cast surreptitious glances in her direction, but each in his fashion paused to admire her beauty.

When the tour of the lower decks was complete, the captain led Erienne and Christopher to his cabin, where he poured a light cordial. He gave a nod to each of the two bedrooms that lay at either end of the main cabin and made a casual comment.

"The quarters might seem a bit cramped, madam, but this is where Mr. Seton and I have passed many an hour on the high seas."

"Do you have a voyage planned for the near future?" she asked and hoped she was successful in disguising her interest in whether Christopher would soon be leaving England or not.

"I am at Mr. Seton's disposal while we're here. When we leave will be up to him."

Erienne was somewhat astonished by the man's statement. To think that a whole vessel and its crew catered to the whims of one man seemed most extravagant, and she could only wonder at the wealth that could afford such luxury.

The three of them shared lunch on the ship. Captain Daniels had as many amusing yarns and stories as he had accounts of actual happenings at sea. Erienne was entertained thoroughly by the deft humor of the men, and despite her earlier qualms could not think of a specific time of relaxed conversation that she had enjoyed more.

In comparison, the rest of the afternoon passed quite serenely. Vauxhall Gardens was for a summer stroll, but the quietness of it on a wintry day could not be denied. Erienne was content to let her escort lead her through the baroque pavilions and the tree-lined lanes. As promised, Christopher lent himself to a most gentlemanly comportment and treated her in a grand style, making her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. In the Rotunda's "enchanted palace," tea was served in arched alcoves around the perimeter, while an orchestra provided soft music as a background for a congenial conversation.

In all, it proved to be a most enchanting day, and Erienne experienced a tinge of regret when it came to an end. She knew on the morrow she would be journeying back to Saxton Hall with her husband, and it left her in a melancholy mood as she watched the rented livery pull away from the Leicester mansion, carrying her escort with it. Christopher had held her hand briefly at the door and brushed a cousinly kiss against her cheek before making his departure. It was a simple contact, but the memory of it lingered far too long for her to be able to discount its effect on her.

The mists hung stubbornly in the low spots as the Saxtons' coach departed the Leicester mansion and ventured northward in the chill, brisk morning air. The sun, barely piercing the day with its light, was heavily swathed in fuchsia clouds that hung close over the horizon. The carriage rattled past farms that lay north of the Thames and crossed stone bridges where thickly curling vapors hovered over streams and marshes. As the day aged, the skies became gray and bleak, the air decidedly crisp. Tessie had relented to her mistress' pleas to take shelter inside the coach. Though Erienne understood the girl's timidity in the presence of Lord Saxton, not even the bulk of the two men who rode above could provide enough warmth to equal the interior. The young maid avoided glancing in the master's direction and was content to nap in her corner while her mistress chose to do the same in the seat beside her.

At noon they paused at an inn, and though the place had several guests, the common room fell deathly quiet as Lord Saxton guided his young wife to a table. His presence never failed to quicken the service, for all were wary of inciting his wrath. As usual, he declined to sample the fare, and after escorting Erienne back to the coach, excused himself briefly from her company.

They were on the road again and settling themselves for another long jaunt when there was a shout in the distance and the small hatch behind the driver's seat opened.

"A coach comin' up from behind, milord," Bundy called down. "A big 'un with a small troop o' riders."

Lord Saxton gave him a quick reply. "Be wary of them, and at the next wide place in the road, let them pass."

"Aye, milord." Bundy closed the port.

Erienne could see nothing from her seat at the rear, but the drum of heavy hooves coming toward them from behind was growing more distinct. Their own coach slowed and the ride became rough as Tanner edged it onto the extreme side of the road. A whip cracked with a loud report, and the jangle of harness grew louder. Erienne saw the horses first, and a carefully matched, magnificent team they were. The coach itself was large and black, with velvet curtains drawn tightly over the window. A driver and guard shared the front seat, while a pair of footmen were at the rear. Eight horsemen followed and were as well armed as any of the King's men. Though the richness of the hurrying entourage was obvious, a newer-looking patch on the door showed where a coat of arms had once been.

Erienne could not understand why such a high house should choose to travel with their coat of arms concealed. It was certainly not done with the intention of deterring the interest of thieves, not when there was so much evidence of wealth.

Lord Saxton observed the passing of the conveyance without comment. His only reaction was to consult his small pocket watch after the coach had gone on ahead. Then he leaned in the corner of his seat and folded his arms as if he would nap, but an occasional glint of light reflected from within the eyeholes assured her that she was closely watched.

They halted at another inn toward evening, and the place was abuzz with speculation about the mysterious black coach that had swept past without pausing. A few guests, unheedful of the one who kept to the shadows, boasted of having heard of a scarred and crippled lord of the North country who wore a strange helm and was reluctant to be named. They made odds that he was the one who traveled behind closely drawn curtains. Then finally catching sight of Lord Saxton's awesome visage, those same ones gaped... paled... and sputtered in confusion. They murmured with as much amazement at his lady's equally stunning beauty. Erienne had the vague impression that her husband enjoyed the difference in reactions and had a bent to play on it. But he also boldly made his claim on her, so none would overstep the bounds as the foolish roue had done on their trip south. One of those large, gloved hands lingering possessively on the small of her back readily conveyed the message.

The black coach was apparently traveling the same route as the Saxtons', for reports of it continued throughout the next day. The first white, downy flakes that settled over the road gave witness to its passing, but as they traveled farther north, no further hint could be seen in the deepening snow. The frosty mantling of white slowed their progress, and it was the following evening before they put Mawbry behind them. The gray bulk of Saxton Hall was a welcome sight even to Erienne, whose weariness forbade more than a nibble at dinner. The security of her own bed beneath her was a balm that brought her to the edge of sleep. There she hung for a space while her mind rooted through the rich loam of recent events. The vision of a smiling Christopher dissipated as the blank, staring mask of Lord Saxton pushed to the fore. The black leather visage stayed until she sank into an exhausted slumber whose depths brooked no invasion of frivolity.

The number of days since their return had not fully aged into a week, and yet it seemed that hardly an evening passed without some claim that a night rider was seen roaming the northern hills. Doors of cottages, formerly left unbarred while the occupants slumbered in their beds, were now bolted hard and fast against any intrusion, casual or otherwise.

Haggard was one who came panting to the sheriff and breathlessly told about the thing that had chased him in the night. His eager declaration that he was ready to bear arms against the creature, should he be so fortunate as to be gifted with a weapon, won him a position as one of the sheriff's men. From then on, it seemed that Allan Parker could not move or turn without stumbling over the loyal man. Having lost Timmy, Haggard was eager for companionship, and he liberally displayed that readiness toward Allan. Haggard's constant presence wore at the patience of the sheriff. Only a harsh command to "stay put" seemed to penetrate the thick skull.

Christopher Seton came back to Mawbry, and word of the Yankee's return filtered to the hall. Though Lord Saxton was not wont to talk of the man, the young maids of the household were most eager to gossip when the subject concerned him, sometimes within hearing range of their mistress. Molly had begun to prattle about the wench she had caught him with in the inn several weeks past but refused to reveal the woman's identity. As a result Claudia's name was linked with his, since she had been seen in his company once or twice. By the time Erienne heard the rumors, they were well steeped with the indiscretions of the two. The stories left a sickening ache around her heart, a feeling she could not readily dismiss with arguments that she actually loathed the man.

Lord Saxton made a request of his wife on that Friday afternoon following their return, and in compliance Erienne came down to dinner dressed in the same gown she had worn the night of her wedding. She understood why her husband favored the dress. Its decolletage was most revealing, and his reaction to it this evening was no different from the first time she had worn it. He waited at the bottom of the stairs, holding one arm behind his back as he watched her descent with close attention.