Bertrice Small - The Duchess

"But how are we going to get to the countess?" Caroline asked.

"We shall be bloodthirsty peasant ladies from Harfleur who have come to bring the countess and her children before the revolutionary tribunal for justice. The Committee for Public Safety in the town has sent us to fetch the woman, Citizeness d'Aumont, and her brats. If the people holding the countess and her children attempt to stop us, we shall become very aggressive and threatening toward them. France is ruled by fear. The mere threat that her captors are not concurring with the local authorities will bring about their immediate cooperation, I am certain," Allegra told her friends. "Remember, despite their revolutionary talk, these people are used to obeying their superiors. We shall have to be very convincing, however."

While the women continued to speak among themselves, the gentlemen were also making their plans.

"When do we sail?" the duke asked the Earl of Aston.

"Captain Grant suggests we leave on the evening's tide. It is just before midnight. The weather is good, the winds fresh. If it all holds, we should reach France the day after tomorrow."

"Is he familiar with the territory into which we are venturing?" Quinton Hunter asked his friend.

Marcus Bainbridge smiled. "He knows a hidden cove right near the town of Harfleur. We will anchor there."

"And just how is he aware of such an ideal anchorage?" Lord Walworth wondered aloud.

"Damn me, Adrian, where do you think that fine French wine you like so much comes from?" the earl chuckled. "You surely don't think the damned French can cut off an Englishman's supply of good wine? When I don't need the yacht, and frankly nowadays, I don't use it a lot, I allow Grant to make little trips for his own amusement. If he brings me back some wine, so much the better."

"In other words, Marcus, your captain is smuggling," Lord Walworth said. "This situation becomes more dangerous by the moment. If your yacht is recognized by the authorities, could we not all be in terrible peril? I do not like it at all."

"Grant has only done a wee bit of smuggling, Dree, and he has never been caught. Not even pursued. The Froggies are too busy killing each other and destroying their society to worry about an English captain out for a bit of wine. It is perfectly safe."

"If this were not Caroline's relation," Lord Walworth said, "I should not allow it."

"You are free to remain here," the duke told his friend.

"No. I value my marriage too much, Quint. Caroline would never forgive me, I fear," Lord Walworth said, resigned.

"You'll feel better after a good supper," the earl told his friend. "I always feel better after a good supper."

"You'll become as stout as Prinny one day," the duke teased his friend.

"I need my food, Quint. Eunice may look like a cool and elegant little countess, but she's a wildcat in our marriage bed. I need my strength to keep up with her."

"What we need is heirs," Lord Walworth said. "After this little adventure, if the almighty God allows us to return to England unscathed, we had best settle down to getting 'em. I want a son I can take up on my horse with me. I want several for that matter. One for the title, one for the church, one for the army, and one for the navy."

"What does Caroline say?" the duke asked dryly.

"Why, she agrees with me, of course," Lord Walworth said. "Why wouldn't she? Damn me, Quint, only a year ago we were discussing finding ourselves wives, and look at us now. Old married men, by God!"

His friends chuckled, and then the duke said seriously, "I hope we live to be old married men, lads. If it were not for the Bellinghams I should not be here in Brighton today, but rather on our way home to Hunter's Lair. I'm sorry Ocky can't be with us, but Sirena will whelp her young 'un any day now."

"He's going to be mighty jealous when we tell him what we did," chortled the earl. "Ocky has always liked a good adventure, and this one, gentlemen, is likely to be our last."

"I think," Lord Walworth replied, "that from now on I can do without adventure. I'll be happy to settle down to a comfortable and dull existence at the hall with Caroline and our children."

"Agreed," the earl and the duke said in unison.

The sea breezes of Sussex's coast had drawn the fashionable crowds to Brighton since the mid-1780s when Prinny arrived to spend a summer. Three years later he had purchased a simple farmhouse on the west side of the Steyne. Of course, unable to restrain himself, he had hired an architect and remodeled his dwelling into what became known as The Royal Pavilion. For the next thirty years Prinny continued to remodel, expand, and renovate his Pavilion. Fashionable London followed him to the seaside each year. The height of the season was always on August twelfth, the prince's birthday.

Early March was not a time when fashionable people visited Brighton. Most of the houses on the Steyne were shut up tight. The two chief hotels, Old Ship and Castle Inn, were open, but barely. The theatre on the New Road with its large gallery and two tiers of boxes was closed for the season. The race track was deserted. Very few fashionables were in residence except those too poor to keep a London house, or those who claimed they preferred living at the seaside for their health. The King's Arms was not a watering place for the ton, but their brief stay there would not attract the attention of any who by chance might know or recognize the three couples, and wonder why on earth they were here in Brighton at this gloomy time of year.

HawawHkins pulled Honor aside just before they left. "Now, listen, old girl," he said to her, "don't go taking any chances for some foreign lady you don't even know. I want you coming back safe and sound."

"And just why is that, Peter Hawkins?" Honor demanded of him.

"You know why," he muttered, shuffling his feet.

"No, I don't," she replied.

"Don't we have an understanding, Honor Cooper?" he asked her.

"If we do, you didn't tell me," she shot back.

"Well, we do, damnit, and I don't want you getting yourself killed by those Froggies," Hawkins said fiercely, and then he kissed her hard upon her lips.

Honor grew pink with pleasure, but then she said, "Now, don't you go confusing me, Hawkins. I haven't said we have an arrangement, but then I won't say we don't. I'll be back." She gave him a kiss in return, and hurried out of the inn after the others.

The earl's sailing yacht was anchored at the end of a long stone quay. It was not a large vessel, but neither was it small. It stretched seventy feet from bow to stern, was twenty-three feet in width, and one hundred eighty tons. Although it was a pleasure craft, it carried several small cannons. Its sails were ketch-rigged. There was a sumptuous day cabin beneath the poop deck where they would shelter from the elements.

"Welcome aboard, your lordship, Your Grace, my lord," Captain Grant greeted them. "Bobby will show you to the cabin. We'll be under way shortly." He bowed to the gentlemen and to the ladies.

"I keep a small crew aboard," the earl said. "This is Bobby, the cabin boy. He's a good lad, aren't you, Bobby?"

"Yes, my lord, I try to be," came the earnest reply. The boy, about twelve years of age, hurried ahead of them, opening the door to the day cabin where they would be staying. "There's wine, and fresh biscuits, my lord." He ushered them inside. Then with a tug on his cap, he hurried back out again.

"Where are we going to sleep, Marcus?" the Countess of Aston demanded of her husband. "It's all very beautiful, but hardly cozy."

"It isn't meant to be, my darling. I used to race Seagull before we married. Quint, Dree, and Ocky have all been aboard before. You will sleep here, in these bunks hidden behind the elegant paneling." Pressing a hidden button with his hand, the earl smiled at their astonishment as the paneling slid back to reveal two tiers of narrow bunks.