The Making of a Duchess (27 page)

   "I can, and I will."

   "How will you travel once we reach France? You don't have any papers." There. That was the end of this inane scheme. Now he just had to find a way to get her home before—

   "I have papers."

   "What?"

   She nodded and reached into her makeshift knapsack—it looked suspiciously like a pillow case— producing a thick stack of documents. Before she could hand them over, Julien snatched them from her hands.

   He perused them quickly and then more thoroughly. How could this be? These papers were as good as his! They were for a Serafina Harcourt, wife of a baker.

   
His
alias was that of a baker.

   He met her gaze, and she gave him a sheepish smile. "How did you—"

   "Enough of this," Stalwart interrupted. "Are you going or staying? Either way, I'm taking the money." The captain had already claimed the satchel with the five thousand pounds.

   Julien clenched his fists and blew out a breath. He leveled a glance at her. "I don't care the price. I'm not willing to put you in danger." He grit his teeth and tried not think about Armand. "We're staying," he bit out and turned to leave. But she grabbed his arm and leaned in close.

   "Why are you so certain I'm safer here than in France?" She raised a brow, looking him directly in the eye. "What do you think will happen to me if it becomes known—as it surely will—that you are away and I have failed in my mission?"

   Julien shrugged. "Why should anything happen? You can go back to your"—he glanced at Stalwart— "previous position."

   "Or perhaps I'm expendable. Perhaps I know too much. Others have disappeared. I fear I'm next." She lowered her voice, whispering in his ear. "I fear Sir Northrop, Julien. He's desperate to capture you and will stop at nothing. If I stay—" She caught her breath on a shudder and met his gaze.

   "Damn it," Julien swore and ran a hand through his hair. He could see real fear in her eyes. They were cornered—danger on every side. "Then I'll stay here and protect you. I don't even know if I'll be able to find Armand."

   "You will. I have information that can help you."

   He frowned at her. "What are you talking about? What information?"

   "You need me, Julien. Armand needs us both. I can help you find him. Without him, I fear we are both doomed."

   He gave her a long, hard stare. Did she really have information, or was this just a ploy to stay on board? Either way, he could not leave her behind, and with the Foreign Office watching him, this might be his last chance to find his brother, Julien's only chance to prove he was not a traitor. He closed his eyes briefly and heard himself tell Stalwart, "We're going." He was probably going to regret this, but he saw the captain nod and knew the decision was made now.

   Stalwart opened the cabin door. Immediately, Oak, who had been standing guard, came to attention. "Take these two to the guest quarters," Stalwart ordered.

Sarah had not realized how small the ship would be, had not realized she would be sharing quarters with Julien. And even if she had, it would not have changed her mind. She would rather die in France, attempting to help Julien rescue his brother, than perish in Sir Northrop's clutches in London.

   As she stepped into the cabin, she felt the ship begin to rock. The tide had come in, and the crew was moving the ship into the river. Soon they would be well on their way.

   The door closed behind her, shutting her in.

   Just her and Julien.

   In the darkness.

   She had caught a brief glimpse of the cabin: it had only one small berth.

   She heard Julien blow out a breath. "Happy now?"

   "No, but what I told you was the truth. The last time I met with The Widow she told me she was afraid of Sir Northrop. She arranged a private meeting, and she never arrived. I have not seen her since." The boards under them creaked and shifted.

   "And you think Sir Northrop killed her? Perhaps she was simply given another assignment."

   "Perhaps." Sarah had considered that, had wanted to believe it, but she could not. "But I fear the worst. The last time I saw Sir Northrop, he was like a caged animal. He all but admitted to killing her, and he threatened me as well."

   "Sarah, what would killing you or the operatives benefit him?"

   She shook her head, even though she suspected he could not see. "I don't know. He's desperate, hurried… afraid of… something. He wants you labeled a traitor, and I don't think he even cares whether you are innocent or guilty."

   The room was silent for a long moment, and then Julien said, "Alright. We'll deal with him when we return.
If
we return. Tell me this information you have. What do you know about Armand?"

   She was not quite ready to reveal all. As long as she

had information he wanted, he would keep her with him. Not that he would ever abandon her, but he might be tempted to find a safe place to stash her until the danger was past. "Something Sir Northrop told me."

   He scowled. "That's all? I hardly think—"

   "There's more. But I'm not going to tell you. Yet."

   "Bloody hell, but you're difficult."

   She heard him move past her, and then a stream of moonlight showed through the porthole. He had pulled back the curtain shrouding the cabin and now stood before the single berth, legs braced, face in his habitual scowl. It was difficult to ignore that small, lonely bed behind him.

   "Do you think they have another room where I can sleep?" she said, trying not to sound nervous.

   "No. This is probably the first mate's cabin. We're lucky to have it at all. I'd expected to sleep with the men in the crew quarters. Obviously, you can't do that."

   "No." She shook her head.

   "And now neither can I."

   Lord, he looked handsome, standing there with the moonlight behind him. But her gaze drifted involuntarily to the lone berth behind him. It was incredibly small. There was certainly no way she could sleep beside him without being pressed flush against him. She did not think Reverend Collier would approve of that.

   "Why not?" she asked. "The berth is—ah, rather small."

   "Oh, you noticed that?"

   She frowned. "There's no call for sarcasm."

   "No? You'll have to forgive me. Now, not only do I have to worry about getting safely in and out of France, finding my family's servant, finding my brother, overcoming whatever obstacles there are to free him, and returning to England without being arrested by the Foreign Office—"

   She looked down. It was a rather long list of concerns, and she could see where he was going with it.

   "Now I have to watch over you as well. And not just in France. Do you think I can trust these sailors to keep their hands off you? I'll have to stay with you night and day."

   She swallowed. "The voyage isn't that long."

   "Three days in good weather. Much longer if the weather is bad, the wind is unfavorable, or we have trouble with the French or the English fleets. We could be on this ship for weeks!"

   "I didn't realize—"

   He held up a hand. "That's obvious."

   "Don't you realize I had no choice?" she said, dropping her knapsack. It suddenly felt unduly heavy.

   "You could have told me your fears. You might have confided in me."

   "No." She shook her head. "No. Then you would have turned yourself in, or something foolish like that—"

   "It's not foolish if it saves your life."

   "But it won't save yours! Only finding Armand can do that now. We must have irrevocable proof that your visits to France have been undertaken with the best of intentions. If we find your brother—"

   He made a sound of protest, crossed the cabin in two steps, and took hold of her shoulders. "I
will
find him."

   "
We'll
find him," she said, looking up and into his eyes. He met her gaze, and she could feel the tension between them. It was so thick she felt as though she could reach out and slice through it.

   Abruptly, he released her. "We're getting married."

   "What?" She blinked, thinking she must have heard him incorrectly.

   "We're getting married." He reached for the door and opened it. "I'm going to find the captain. While I'm gone, don't move, don't speak, and don't open the door for anyone but me."

   "But, Julien!"

   He closed the door on her protests, then opened it again and stuck his head in. "You might want to change into your bridal attire." The door slammed closed.

   Sarah stood staring at the door. He could not mean it. Could he?

   Oh, Lord. She knew him better than that by now. Of course, he meant it. He was going to have the ship's captain marry them.

   She should be ecstatic. She was going to be Julien's wife. She had been in love with him practically since the moment she first saw him, and certainly since their first kiss. Now she would be with him always.

   There might be children, and she would finally have the family she had always yearned for.

   Except…

   Julien did not want to marry her. Julien was not doing this because he wanted her to be his wife or because he was in love with her. He was doing this because it was his duty to protect her.

   Sarah did not know if she wanted to be married under those conditions. She had not daydreamed about her wedding very often. She never really believed she would actually marry, but on the few occasions she had allowed herself to indulge in wistful fantasies, being married on a smuggler's ship to a man who felt obligated to take her had never once entered her imaginings.

   What was she going to do?

   She heard footsteps outside the door and glanced down at her clothing. No wonder Julien had suggested she change into her bridal attire. She did not want to marry in this plain gray gown and spencer. She had borrowed them—was it really borrowing if she did not ask first?—from her maid. Sarah had wanted something that would not attract notice or announce her as a person with any wealth.

   The drab gown accomplished that but did little else for her appearance. Quickly, she shrugged off the spencer and the bonnet she wore. There was no mirror in the cabin, but she smoothed her hair as best she could and tried to shake wrinkles out of the gown. She wished she had thought to bring another gown, but there was not room in her makeshift knapsack.

   The footsteps passed her cabin, and she blew out a breath. Where was Julien? Had the captain refused his request?

   She clenched and unclenched her hands, wishing she had something to do. Finally, out of desperation, she folded her spencer and put it in a cupboard, then placed her knapsack on the bed, where it would be out of the way.

   As soon as she touched the bed, her knees went weak. If Julien had his way, she would be his wife tonight, and this would be their wedding bed. He would have every right to kiss her and touch her and—

   She closed her eyes. As much as she enjoyed his kisses and caresses, she had not allowed herself to think much beyond that. In fact, she knew very little about lovemaking. She had grown up surrounded by young girls and spinsters. Oh, they had whispered about this handsome porter or that fine-looking shopkeeper, but they were really quite sheltered.

   Even Pippa's story of the employer chasing her about the library had not alluded to what would have happened if she had been caught.

   And the books Sarah had read—romantic stories of knights and their ladies—had given scant detail about what happened after the happy couple rode off into the sunset.

   She swallowed and tried to breathe. Perhaps Julien would not want to consummate the marriage. Perhaps he was only taking her as a bride in order to protect her with his name. It would certainly be improper for them to be alone together without being married.

   Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head. Who was she trying to fool? Of course Julien would want to consummate the marriage. Had he not made it clear the last time they had kissed that he wanted her?

   And, come what may, she must marry him. Not only because she needed his protection but because she loved him, and this was her last chance at happiness.

   She heard footsteps again and took a deep breath.
Chin up
, she reminded herself.

When Julien opened the door, Sarah was not in the cabin. He paused, frowning, while behind him, the captain shifted impatiently. "I don't have all day, Valère."

   "She's not here."

   "I'm here," a small voice squeaked. Julien moved inside the room and squinted. Yes, there, wedged in the corner beside the bed and the wall, was Sarah.

   "Why are you hiding?"

   She took a tiny step forward. "I'm not hiding."

   "Good, then let's go. The ceremony will be in Stalwart's cabin."

   "That is," the captain said, stepping into the already crowded cabin, "if the lady agrees. I'm not marrying her against her will."