Return of the Runaway Read online

  Her cousin did not look to be impressed. He kept his eyes upon Raoul.

  ‘Word in Rouen was that you are one Raoul Doulevant, a deserter from the navy.’

  ‘It is no such thing,’ said Cassie indignantly. ‘That horrid man Valerin destroyed Raoul’s records and put out a false report about him.’

  Wolf sat back in his chair. ‘Really?’

  ‘You do not believe me,’ she exclaimed. ‘It is true, Cousin, I assure you. Raoul is an honourable man.’

  Without thinking she had put her hand over Raoul’s, where it rested on the table, and he was obliged to quell the sudden soaring elation he felt at the gesture.

  ‘Your cousin is rightly concerned for you,’ he said, reluctantly withdrawing his hand. ‘Rest assured, monsieur, we travel as man and wife in name only. Funds are low and milady has no maid to accompany her.’

  ‘I can see that,’ growled Arrandale. ‘The question is, Doulevant, what is your plan?’

  ‘To find a ship to carry milady to England from Dieppe.’

  Arrandale nodded. ‘The town is crawling with soldiers, but it should be possible. I have friends there who can help us.’

  ‘You will come to England with me?’ Cassie asked hopefully.

  ‘Alas, I cannot return to England. You forget, Cousin, there is a price on my head. I am wanted for the murder of my wife.’ He added bitterly, ‘Even worse in the eyes of the English, I am accused of stealing a diamond necklace belonging to her family.’

  ‘But if you are innocent—’

  ‘Who would believe me? Even my own father thought I was guilty. He shipped me out of the country before I could be arrested. It is better that I remain in France. There is nothing for me in England now.’

  ‘There is Arrandale,’ said Cassie. ‘And your daughter.’

  He looked up at that. ‘I have a daughter?’

  ‘Yes, a little girl called Florence. Surely you knew that?’

  He shook his head. ‘I thought the child had died with her mother.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I moved around a great deal when I first came to France and in truth I did not wish to keep in touch with my family. I was angry that they should believe the worst without giving me a chance to defend myself. I saw only the report in an English newspaper that there was a reward for my capture. Where is Florence now?’

  ‘She lives with Lord Davenport’s family.’

  ‘Then she is better off without me.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No, Cassandra. I cannot accompany you to England. It is impossible. You will have to make do with Doulevant’s escort.’

  ‘No, no, you misunderstand,’ said Raoul quickly. ‘It was never my intention to go to England. My service to milady ends once she is safely aboard ship.’

  * * *

  Cassie was still smarting from the way Raoul had pulled his hand away from hers and his last words stung her even more. She should not care, after all it would not be long now before they parted for ever, but she was surprised how much it hurt to discover that he would be very relieved once she was off his hands. Wolfgang was speaking and she tried to concentrate upon his words.

  ‘You would send her alone? What do you think will happen once she reaches England?’

  Cassie braced herself to hear Raoul say he neither knew nor cared. His reply was a tiny crumb of comfort.

  ‘I have been thinking about that. Is there a way we can send ahead to this Lady Hune? Then she could send someone to meet Lady Cassandra.’

  ‘That is possible, I suppose. It would mean delaying until we could get a message to the marchioness. Her letters to me were from London, but she may be back in Bath by now.’

  ‘No, she is in Essex,’ put in Cassandra. ‘At Chantreys. The last letter I have from her says she will be staying at Lord Davenport’s house there until December at least, to look after the earl’s wards while he and his new wife are on honeymoon.’

  Wolfgang looked up in surprise. ‘James has married again?’

  ‘Did you not know? James and his wife were drowned last winter. His brother Alex is now the earl.’

  ‘Alex!’ Wolfgang exclaimed. ‘I did not think he was the marrying kind, he was always a wild one, but I suppose he must think about the succession.’ He cast another searching look at Cassie. ‘And Alex is now my daughter’s guardian?’

  ‘Yes, I believe so and also to James’s daughter, Margaret. They are of a similar age.’

  Her cousin frowned, as if digesting all he had heard, then he gave a shrug.

  ‘Essex is closer than Bath, so in the event it works out better for us. I will send word to Lady Hune as soon as I have organised your passage and we know where on the coast you will be coming ashore, Cousin.’

  ‘You seem to have forgotten the war,’ put in Raoul. ‘It may not be so easy to arrange all this.’

  For the first time since they met Cassie saw her cousin smile.

  ‘It is easy enough if you know the right people. I lived in this area for a few years when I first came to France and I still have friends along this coast. However, it may take a few days to arrange everything. In the meantime you would be best staying in Dieppe, I think. Strangers would attract less attention there than in any of the smaller ports along this coast.’

  ‘That will suit me very well,’ agreed Raoul. ‘I have business in Dieppe.’

  ‘Then it is settled.’ Wolfgang drained his tankard and set it down on the table. ‘We should press on, there will be much to do once we reach the town.’ He leaned closer. ‘One more thing, I am known here as Georges Lagrasse, a citizen of Toulouse. I think it will be best if I claim acquaintance with Doulevant rather than you, Cassandra. Your French is good, but you are clearly a foreigner.’

  ‘Just what I told her, monsieur,’ remarked Raoul, draining his own cup. ‘We are in agreement on one thing, at least.’

  Cassie, offended by this display of male solidarity, swept out of the tavern before them.

  * * *

  By the time they reached Dieppe it was past noon and beginning to rain again. Wolfgang gave them directions to an inn.

  ‘It is clean and comfortable and I know the landlord, he is to be trusted. He is accustomed to travellers and is unlikely to ask you for your papers. If anyone should enquire, Cassandra, it would be best to say you are Irish. The recent bombardment of the town has made the people here less friendly towards the English.’

  ‘Let us hope it is not necessary to say anything,’ put in Cassie. ‘I would rather we did not attract any more attention than necessary.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Wolfgang. ‘Very well, get you to the inn. I shall be in contact once I have secured for you a safe passage to England.’

  ‘You are not coming with us?’ she asked him.

  ‘No. I have friends here who will give me a bed and help me find you a ship.’

  Cassie was tempted to ask him about his friends, but decided it would be wiser not to know. From her conversations with her cousin during their journey she guessed that he lived a precarious existence in France, so now she merely wished him good luck and followed Raoul to the inn.

  * * *

  For Cassie it had become a familiar charade. She hung, exhausted, on Raoul’s arm while he gave a false name and told the landlord they required accommodation with a separate bedchamber for their maid, who was following with the luggage. The recent storm accounted for their dishevelled appearance and they were shown upstairs to a comfortable suite overlooking the street. Their accommodation comprised a small anteroom which opened on to the main bedchamber and a truckle bed was prepared in the dressing room beyond. Cassie made no demur when Raoul ordered dinner to be served in their rooms. She was too tired to eat in public, knowing she would have to be on her guard against any slip of the tongue. Now all she had to resist was the growing a
ttraction she felt for Raoul Doulevant.

  ‘I am going out again,’ he said as soon as they were alone. ‘There is an hour or so before dinner and I must see if the Prométhée is in the harbour. I may be too late; she may already have sailed elsewhere.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I wish you luck, Raoul.’

  With a nod he went out and she moved restlessly about the apartment, making herself familiar with the rooms. She could not forget the last time Raoul had left her alone at an inn and she took time to look for possible routes of escape. But it was not fear of Valerin finding them that disturbed her most, it was Raoul’s cool manner. It had become very marked since they had met her cousin and if Cassie didn’t know better she would have thought he was jealous. But that was ridiculous, of course, and it was also quite ridiculous that she should care.

  Cassie sighed and clasped her hands together. If only there was no war, no social divisions. If only they could meet and talk as equals. If only...

  She found she was obliged to blink back a tear. Angrily she stalked back into the anteroom. There was no point in wishing for the impossible. She could not deny her birth; she was the daughter of a marquess and her ancestors could be traced back to the Conqueror. She was going back to England, to the world she knew and understood. She thrust aside the shadow of loneliness that clouded her vision of the future. It was quite possible that Grandmama would find her a husband, a kind, generous man who would care for her and whom she would grow to love. It would be a safe, comfortable existence in a world she knew. It was where she belonged. Raoul could never be happy there, even if he had wanted to join her. And that was the point, wasn’t it? He did not want her in his life. This new coolness was most likely a sign of relief that their time together was almost over.

  ‘Which just goes to show that he is far more sensible than you,’ she lectured herself. ‘You have already made one mésalliance, but Gerald was at least English and a gentleman. To marry outside your sphere would be an even greater folly and not to be countenanced.’

  Cassie made herself comfortable in a chair by the table and settled down to wait. She must concentrate now on the future. She would return to Grandmama’s care, Raoul would go to Brussels and take up his life again as a surgeon. Perhaps, one day when this wretched war was over they might meet again, as friends. For the present she could only hope that he would find his captain and obtain the papers he needed to prove he was no deserter.

  * * *

  Raoul returned just as the serving maid brought in their dinner, and Cassie was obliged to hold her questions until they were alone.

  ‘The Prométhée was not there,’ he informed her at last. ‘She was due here two weeks since, but the English were attacking the town and she narrowly escaped capture. She is expected to be back in port here tomorrow. I am hopeful I shall be able to see Captain Belfort then.’

  ‘I am glad you have not missed him.’ She pushed a piece of chicken about her plate. ‘Once you have your papers you will be free to go where you will, Raoul. I think you should do so, Dieppe is not safe for you. You do not need to stay here for my sake.’

  ‘We are agreed, I shall not leave until you are safe on board a ship for England.’

  Safe? Cassie’s spirit quailed, but she could not let Raoul see how much she had come to rely upon his protection.

  She said brightly. ‘How long do you think it will take my cousin to secure a passage for me?’

  ‘A day, two perhaps. If it is true that he is familiar with the town and the people, then he stands a better chance of striking a deal than I.’

  ‘But you do not trust him?’

  ‘I know nothing of the man, save that he is a fugitive, like myself.’

  ‘I believe he is innocent,’ said Cassie quietly. ‘Like yourself.’

  * * *

  Raoul poured the rest of the wine into their glasses and sat back, staring moodily into the fire. There was no doubting Arrandale had proved himself useful, but he could not like the man. He wished Cassie disliked him, too, and immediately berated himself for such ignoble thoughts. By heaven, anyone would think he was jealous! A ridiculous idea. He shifted on his chair. Why, then, was it like a pinprick in his flesh every time she directed a smile towards her cousin, why the sudden burning anger whenever they conversed together?

  His gaze moved to Cassandra. She was concentrating on cutting an apple into small pieces. The candlelight glinted on her dark curls and gave her skin a golden glow. He watched her take a piece of apple, holding it daintily between her fingers as she nibbled at it with her even, white teeth. She was a lady, from the tips of her toes to the top of those glossy curls. She was made for a life of ease and luxury, with servants at her beck and call. It was not her fault if she was bred to be no more than a selfish, arrogant ornament.

  He had a sudden, vivid memory of her felling the postilion when he came to attack her. Another of her working beside him when he was operating on those unfortunate men in Flagey. He had known grown men to faint at the sights she had witnessed that night. Dr Bonnaire had been impressed. She had displayed no signs of arrogance then. True, she had taken charge of the village, organising the food, settling the children, comforting the grieving, but no one had complained. They had not called her arrogant. They had described her as a saint...

  He pushed his chair back, saying roughly, ‘I am going downstairs, I may be able to glean some news of how the war is going.’

  ‘Oh, may I come with you?’

  ‘No. I am going to the taproom. It is not a place for ladies.’ He hesitated, then pulled the purse from his pocket. ‘Perhaps it is time we divided up our remaining funds.’

  ‘I need only enough to get me to England,’ she said as he counted out the coins.

  ‘We agreed we would share any surplus, did we not?’ He held out the purse. ‘There. It should be sufficient to pay for your passage to England, unless the captain is a rogue.’

  ‘Thank you. And I still have my locket, I can sell that, if I am desperate.’ She managed a smile. ‘Let us hope Wolfgang can strike a good bargain.’

  Raoul felt the now-familiar pain like a knife in his gut when she mentioned her cousin. He could only reply with a curt little nod before he left the room.

  * * *

  Cassie sat very still and watched the door close behind him. Only when she was alone did her shoulders slump. She could not ignore the fact now. They were no longer friends.

  The serving maid came in to clear the table and Cassie moved away into the bedchamber, pretending to tidy her hair in the looking glass and avoiding the servant’s scrutiny. It was very dispiriting to know that Raoul did not want her with him. They had gone together to make the arrangements to leave Rouen, she had remained cloaked and silent while he had negotiated with dubious characters in dimly lit taverns and shadowed alleys, but she had been there, at his side. Now, it seemed, he did not want her company and she must keep to her room. It went very much against her nature to remain idle, but she had little choice. For the moment she must allow Raoul and her cousin to make the necessary preparations for her repatriation.

  When the maid had carried away all the empty dishes Cassie wandered back into the room. The long journey was beginning to take its toll, she felt very weary, but it was more than that. She pulled one of the dining chairs towards the fire and sat down, hoping the flames would dispel the chill of unhappiness that had crept into her soul. She should be happy. In another day or two she would be back in England, amongst her own people and she would be able to forget all about her disastrous marriage. She could forget about France. About Raoul.

  * * *

  The taproom was crowded and noisy, and most of the talk was on whether the English warships would return. The last bombardment had set fire to the town in three places and while the damage had been minimal the townsfolk were nervous that more attacks might follow
. Raoul fell into conversation with a group of merchants who were in Dieppe to await the arrival of their ships, if they ever came. They bemoaned the English blockade of the ports, but none of them doubted for one moment that France would be victorious. After all, was not Bonaparte even now planning to invade England? Then the country would be annexed and brought under French rule, as had happened to the Southern Netherlands and so many other territories.

  Raoul bit his tongue when they talked about his homeland. Growing up in the shadow of the revolution, he had been as keen as any that the people should be victorious, that the old tyranny should be ended and replaced with a just and fair system of government by the people, but that had not happened. He wondered what it would be like returning to Brussels, living under French rule. Not so bad, he told himself. As long as he was allowed to get on with his work he did not care. But to practise his trade he needed his papers and that meant finding Captain Belfort. He continued to talk to the merchants, asking them about the harbour and what ships were coming in, but they knew very little. He would have to make the trip to the quayside in the morning, not only to see if the Prométhée had docked, but also to try and ascertain if anyone would be willing to take Cassandra to England. She had pinned her faith on her cousin finding her a berth, but it would do no harm to have a second plan, should Arrandale fail.

  Raoul spent a couple of hours in the taproom. Even after he had learned all he could he tarried there, fighting the urge to go back to Cassandra. Knowing they must soon part for ever, he wanted to spend every moment with her, to memorise her face, her smile, the sound of her laughter. He called for more wine. As if all those things were not already burned into his heart.

  * * *

  Eventually he made his way back upstairs. A good night’s rest and an early start were needed now. With luck Cassie was already asleep with the curtains drawn tightly around the bed. He entered almost silently. Candles still burned on the mantelshelf and at first he thought she had left them to light his way. Then he saw her hunched on her chair, her hands over her face and her shoulders shaking as she cried quietly.