“I’m sure I can rely on the discretion of my tiger just as you trust Martin.”
Rose stared at him, wondering how much of her connection with Martin he divined. “It was not your loss of control that worried me the most.”
“What then?” Bennet glanced at her in such apparent innocent good humor she felt unable to upbraid him about the presence of the Frenchman in his library. If he were guilty of clandestine activity against the government would he be likely to have the effrontery to invite her condemnation? The answer was yes. From her brief experience of Bennet Varner, there was little he would not dare and nothing he could not carry off. She must not let herself be as swayed by his charm as everyone else was. Beginning to feel her long silence had grown awkward, Rose scrambled in her mind to find some other flaw with which to upbraid him, but she could not.
Bennet grinned at her speechlessness. “Do you go to the party at Lady Catherine’s house tonight?” he asked absently.
“No, why should they invite us?”
“Because it would be the gracious thing to do for the relatives of a close friend, which is precisely why they have not.”
“You sound as though you resent them as much as...”
“As much as I dislike my own mother and sister? That was what you were about to say, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but then I remembered my manners.”
“You won’t have much use for them in London,” Bennet said, passing a string of carts and running the danger of locking wheels with a mail coach before he nipped back to his side of the street. “You will meet a great many people here who will be gracious to your face, but who will talk about you unmercifully behind your back.”
“And how are they different from people anywhere else?” she asked, clutching the side of the curricle as he feathered another corner. It suddenly occurred to her that they were not going to Greeves Hotel, that they were not, in fact, even going in the right direction.
She was about to point this out to Bennet when he turned a look of genuine surprise upon her. “You have been the subject of gossip before?”
“Yes,” she said guardedly. “The breaking of an engagement, even when done by mutual agreement, is bound to be a cause for gossip.”
“Was that the only reason for the gossip?” He asked it casually, as though it were a matter of little interest to him. But Rose read it as an invitation to confide in him. Had there not been the tiger pointedly ignoring them, she might have been tempted, but there were Martin’s feelings to consider as well.
“You know what Axel is. I offended his pride by crying off. Even though he took the ring back with relief, he gave it about that he was the one who jilted me and hinted at some dark reason for his decision.”
“Yes, putting all the blame on you without saying anything actionable.”
“As though I would take him to court when all I wanted to do was forget...” Rose ran out of breath, and Bennet looked at her with concern.
“Forget Axel? Impossible. He is like a boil on one’s neck. It is impossible to forget him even when he is a thousand miles away.”
Rose laughed nervously. “Does Lady Catherine entertain often?”
“Nearly every week. She needs material and that is the easiest way to get it.”
“Material? Whatever do you mean?” Rose stared about at the shops they were now passing, mapmakers, chandlers and an excise office.
“For her rumor mill. When I said Harriet had fallen under some bad influence it was the Gravelys I was referring to. They have taught her to be spiteful with a smile, playing people against each other for amusement—the sort of social torture I would like to warn you of.”
“In order to be hurt by them I should have to care what they thought, what anyone thought of me, and I do not.”
“Does Alice?” Bennet asked, drawing a conscience-stricken look from Rose.
“Yes, but she is an innocent. What has she to worry about?”
“Last season they took Miss Robin Coates on as their protégée, led her into excesses that became too dangerous. Now they have dropped her. She will never receive another invitation from either family, and no word of explanation.”
“But what has that to do with—”
“Ah, here we are,” Bennet said with satisfaction, and he pulled the team to a halt on the dock.
“But where are we?” Rose demanded, letting him swing her down from the curricle all the same.
“The Celestine. I was sure you would want to inspect her.”
“And if I feel that the staterooms are too small?” Rose looked critically at the three-masted schooner with its green and gilt trim.
“Why, we can have them enlarged. Of course, we shall have to throw part of the cargo overboard, but it’s only money. Actually I knew they were to remove the old mast today, so I thought you might like to watch.” Bennet looked up at the intricate block and tackle arrangements and nodded.
“You are impossible!” Rose said as she let him take her arm to help her along the crowded quay.
“Just when I was congratulating myself on how agreeable I was being.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Shall I carry you? I would not want you to trip on your riding habit and fall into the Thames.”
“I can manage,” Rose said as she threw the tail of her long skirt over one wrist and skipped up the planked gangway.
“This is Captain Cooley,” Bennet said. “Miss Gwen Rose Wall will be sailing with you to Europe.”
“Aye, if we ever get out of port. It’s yer own ship and all, but to be replacin’ a perfectly fine mainmast...” Cooley shook his head grimly as the chocks squeaked and the men heaved. The mast was belayed with stout ropes until the pulleys could be repositioned, run out and fastened to the mast again as the huge billet of wood swayed ponderously over the deck. A man in a carpenter’s apron was excitedly crawling about underneath the many tons of wood, making Rose’s flesh creep. Cooley went over at the seaman’s excited exclamation and lay down on the deck himself to examine the butt of the mast. He rose again and waved his hand, shouting some order that started the pulleys to squeaking again.
“Well, I’ll be blasted! Beggin’ yer pardon, miss. It beats me how you knew that mast was cracked afore I did, Mr. Varner. You can see the interior crack from the base. It would probably have riven into splinters in the next storm. You are a wonder, sir. Yer father would’ve been proud of ye.”
Rose thought she had caught a look of surprise flit across Bennet’s face before his usual aspect of cheerful confidence reasserted itself. If Bennet had known the mast was cracked then this had not been a deliberate ruse to keep her in London a few more days. But if, as she surmised, it had been a lucky guess, it meant Bennet was still suspect. What could he hope to accomplish in a few days or a week—the liberation of Napoleon? The realization hit her in a warm rush. If Bennet were trying to contrive that, then he must know Europe would soon be a very dangerous place for the English, or was it just that he could not afford to let her and her knowledge loose on the Continent?
Absurd! She was much more of a danger to Bennet here in London than in Paris. She could and probably should march right into the Foreign Office and tell them what she had overheard. She went over in her mind how she would tell it, how she would probably be unsuccessful in gaining an audience with anyone of importance, how they would disbelieve her even if she got someone’s ear. She would appear a fool, but what did that matter where the safety of the country was at stake? She considered for no more than a moment confiding in Stanley. He was so unused to trusting her judgment in any matter of importance that she knew he would only say she must have misheard and dismiss her concern.
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