Gallant Rogue (Reluctant Heroes Book 3) Page 14

  It was the crush of people, the excitement in the air, the abundance of pastimes and places to go that captured her heart. Captain Rawlings escorted her to the shops after their meeting with Jamison. They visited a book seller, a pastry shop, and a millinery shop.

  No one looked at her oddly or muttered about her origins under their breath. They all seemed gay and pleased to make her acquaintance, or at least civil and polite.

  “Now then, a visit to the coffee shop is in order,” Jack told her as she walked down the street with her hand tucked under his arm. “You haven’t lived properly until you’ve visited the coffee shop around the corner. The scent when you enter is heaven itself. This is one of the destinations for the count’s coffee beans. I’ll buy you a cup.”

  The London walkways were always crowded, she noted. It was a city full of life and full of foreigners who seemed to blend in unnoticed. Chloe was entranced. She watched the people hurrying about. A tall man with a beaver hat tipped his head to her as she passed and seemed to stop and watch her progress on Jack’s arm. Jack grumbled something to her about not responding to such looks, but she didn’t heed him. It was exhilarating to find people gazing at her with admiration and curiosity instead of contempt.

  “Here it is. The Arabian Mist.” Jack gestured to the sign hanging above their heads, a wooden cut out of an Eastern-looking figure of a man rising from a cup of steaming coffee. The man had a long beard, a vest with no shirt beneath, and a funny red cap on his head. The figure did not have any legs. The steam rising from the coffee cup made it appear as if he were a genie rising from the magic brew.

  “The count’s coffee beans come here?” she asked, noting the smallness of the shop and recalling the hillside full of coffee plants their patron had cultivated over the past decade.

  “Not just here.” Jack opened the door for her and led her inside. “Many such shops.”

  There were small tables, with two chairs each, making it somewhat intimate. A few people gathered in clumps in the corners, men mostly, laughing and guffawing in a loud bluster. A slim lad came to greet them. Jack ordered two freshly brewed coffees with cream and sugar for the lady and strong black for himself.

  Chloe gave him a perturbed frown. “You believe I’m not up to the taste of undiluted coffee, sir?”

  “Are you?” Surprise caught his voice. “My mistake.”

  “Well, no, but you might have asked me first. I prefer strength in most cases, over sugar and cream.” She knew she was being sharp, but she resented him dictating her likes for her.

  “You can have mine, then,” Jack returned with equal brusqueness. “Did you drink coffee at home? I never noted your preference. I thought you drank tea, like her ladyship.”

  Chloe pursed her lips. She was embarrassed to admit the truth. “No. Elizabeth said the drink was horrid. She drank tea, and as her companion, I did as she did.”

  “I see.” He pulled a chair out for her to sit and then taking the seat opposite her. “Now that you’ve struck out on your own you intend to make full use of your freedom, I wager. First brandy and swordplay at midnight and now coffee, black coffee. What, pray tell, will be next? Going out in society without a bonnet? The scandal shall be too much to bear.”

  Chloe had been tugging at her gloves, not looking at him as he delivered his reproof. She stopped tugging at the obtrusive material and glared up at him, about to give him a scathing set down. She could do as she liked. She wasn’t his wife. As she met his face, and the smile therein, she bit her lower lip. “Why, Captain, you had me for a moment.”

  He brushed his mouth with his forefinger, as if to brush away the traces of a smile. “I did, didn’t I?” He chuckled, and the rich sound echoed about the room. Heads turned to the source of that rich bounty, and noted them. The men stared at her, as if they had never seen a woman before. Jack, surveying the audience, gave them all a look of thunder. Heads turned quickly away again and conversation continued.

  “Here you are, ma’am, captain.” The slim waiter came with a tray bearing two cups. He set the cup diluted with cream and sugar in front of her and the black coffee in front of the captain. Jack switched the cups, so he had the cream and sugared coffee and she the black.

  She gazed into the dark liquid, thoughtful, wondering if one could truly divine their future by gazing into a pool, or a bowl of water as the seers claimed. She saw her own reflection in the black, herself dressed to the nines with an elegant bonnet on her head and a wide-eyed expression of wonder. She must appear an innocent abroad, for surely that was what she was here in the worldly city of London.

  “Are you going to taste it or just pray over it?” Jack prompted. “Drink it hot. When it cools it acquires a more bitter taste.”

  Chloe picked up the cup in both hands and raised it to her lips. She glanced at Jack over the rim. Sure enough, he was watching her, a smile curling about his lips.

  She took a small sip. It was–strong–incredibly strong. And very hot.

  A gasp escaped her lips, but she managed to swallow the pungent liquid.

  Jack followed her lead, refraining from comment, even as his mouth retained a smug, superior smile. He sipped the creamed coffee and frowned, as if he disliked it. “Too smooth; the cream takes away the bitter edge I’ve come to expect. Shall we trade?” He offered her his cup.

  She took it, feeling a little less bold than before. In truth, the straight coffee without a lacing of cream and sugar was a taste she could live without, or at least gradually ease into by degrees. “Thank you.” She felt a little sheepish for her earlier behavior.

  “Don’t fret; it’s extra strong here. Made in the Turkish tradition, as the owner is of Turkish descent.

  Chloe sipped her coffee, relishing the addition of sugar and cream that made it go down smooth and easy. The count drank coffee each morning at breakfast. Elizabeth told Chloe she tried the brew once, when she and the count were newly married, and hated it. Chloe took her patroness’s word for it and dutifully drank tea along with her ladyship.

  Chloe had thought about her decision to leave Ravencrest many times over the past weeks. She worried over it and doubted her rash decision to start a new life somewhere else. Ravencrest was a good home, but it was someone else’s home where she was the guest of her great patroness. Leaving was painful, but necessary. She needed to spread her wings and she had. She was independent, now, able make her own choices for the first time in her life.

  She smiled at Jack, and he smiled back. They lingered in the coffee shop, enjoying their coffee in companionable silence as the world moved past the windows.

  *

  The next morning, Chloe rose and dressed in her best gown and her blue velvet pelisse. It was a long coat that women wore out of doors in such a cool climate, the more modern attire for a lady instead of a cloak. It was fitted to her waist and had long sleeves, just like a gown or a man’s frock coat, but it was a full-length coat that covered her gown to the tops of her smart new walking boots. Jack had promised a surprise for her. He did not say where they were going. He merely told her to dress in her best and wear a warm coat and fur muff as they would be outside in the cool morning air.

  When she appeared out on deck, he was waiting for her. Jack was dressed as a gentleman, not a sea captain. He was strikingly attractive in plain clothing, although one could hardly call his attire plain for it was as grand indeed. He had a tall beaver hat, a grey wool walking coat, and matching trousers. He wore a neat cravat, and a blue sapphire stick pin gleamed from his neck, winking at her beneath the sunlight. He smiled, and her heart seemed to lift away like a loosened sail billowing toward the skies. He reached out his gloved hand and helped guide her down the steep gangplank.

  A coach awaited them on the wharf. It was an enclosed carriage, with glass windows so one could be protected from the weather and still gaze out at the city. It was pulled by two majestic black horses with white feathered plumes on their heads. A driver sat in the front box, and a groom stood ready to help her into
the elegant vehicle.

  Once she was settled inside the luxurious coach with Jack opposite her, they moved through the London streets. It was eight in the morning. “Where are we going?”

  “Hyde Park, to see and be seen. I promised Lady Elizabeth I would show you the delights of London. Hyde Park is one of them. It’s a place where the nobles and the merchants alike promenade out in open carriages or on horseback, all trying to put on airs and appear important. It’s a good glimpse of society striding by, as anyone can enter the park if they can rent a decent carriage and dress the part.”

  She nodded, thrilled at his answer. “So, you rented an expensive coach to ferry me about? It was kind of you, sir.”

  “Oh, this, no. It’s Lord Greystowe’s town carriage. You’re riding in style, in the Earl of Greystowe’s rig. Didn’t you see the crest on the door? People will be dying to make your acquaintance now. Lord Greystowe offered us the use of his townhouse as well, but I said we’d be comfortable on the Pegasus for the two days we’re in port.”

  “Oh, did you?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Without asking me?” She should be perturbed with the man, but she couldn’t really muster the effort. This was like a fairy tale, being escorted to the park in the earl’s carriage, by the earl’s coachman and groom. And with this handsome man to accompany her to the famous park Elizabeth had mentioned often and Lady Greystowe said was the best part of being in London, going riding in Hyde Park in the mornings.

  They moved through the streets. As she looked out at the fancy townhouses on the way to the park, Chloe wished she might stay longer in London but the urgency of meeting her father’s people weighed heavily on her now that they had crossed the wide blue sea and were near Spain.

  At last, the impressive gates of the park were before them. Riders on horseback, both men and women, were milling about the entrance. They didn’t seem to be hampered by the cold wind, as they were likely accustomed to the northern climate. Closed carriages were also coming from different directions, all seeming to make this place their mark. Their own vehicle slowed as they waited to gain entrance behind three other carriages headed into the park.

  Once they made their way through the pillared gates and were slowly moving along the boulevard, Jack opened the coach windows. Chloe thought it an odd thing to do, as the cold was allowed to come into the small vehicle. It did not take long for her to realize why he had opened the windows, as they were stopped by other carriages, and people leaned out the windows to exchange introductions.

  “I say, whose this?” A gentleman with a monocle studied them carefully as their vehicles paused alongside one another. “I thought it was the countess.”

  “Good day, sir.” Jack leaned forward to smile at the fellow. “I’m Captain Rawlings, and this lady is a dear friend of Lady Greystowe’s, Mrs. O’Donovan. She is visiting London, sir, and Lady Greystowe asked that I take her about to see the sights.”

  “A pleasure, ma’am.” The fellow smiled at her, and his wife leaned forward to be introduced to them as well. The wife was a friend of Lady Greystowe’s. She told Chloe to come see her for tea one day soon and gave her a card with the lady’s address on it.

  The coach moved on, and so did Lord Greystowe’s vehicle. They were introduced to numerous people, all curious as to whom the mysterious woman was riding in Lord Greystowe’s rig, and once they knew she was a friend of the Greystowe’s they offered Mrs. O’Donovan a warm welcome to the city of London and to England’s shores. They didn’t seem to care who Mr. O’Donovan had been, merely the mention of Lady Greystowe’s favoritism had given Chloe all the sponsorship she needed, at least for conversation in the park. By the time she was finished with her tour of Hyde Park in late winter, Chloe had been given several cards and given permission to visit the bearer or attend their upcoming gala affair.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” Jack asked, once they were on the road to the wharf again.

  “Oh, yes, immensely. I can only hope that Spanish society will be as welcoming, once I’m on the arm of my uncle, the marquis.”

  “Well, having Lord Greystowe’s carriage to ride in makes all the difference. Like anywhere, it’s who you know and who your friends or family are.” Jack settled back against the plush squab cushions and smiled at her.

  Chloe couldn’t agree with him. She was a dear friend of the Countess du Rochembeau, and had been a member of her ladyship’s family through marriage. Still, she was shunned by the islanders, all because they knew her history and the circumstances of her birth. These people knew nothing of her past, so they had no reason to shun her. The visit to the park was more than a pleasant diversion. It proved she was right to flee her past and start anew in another land.

  Her only hope was that the climate in Spain would prove warmer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Ships, ahoy! Five frigates, British, Cap’n!”

  The shout from the crow’s nest brought a flurry of activity from the crew. Chloe watched them hurry about to handle the sails as the captain opened his spyglass to inspect the shoreline.

  “Why are so many ships surrounding it?” Marta asked from beside Chloe as they stood at the rail. “Is the city of Cadiz under siege?”

  Chloe pursed her lips. Yes, she could see the ships along the shoreline, and the fleet of sails forming a barricade between Jack’s ship and their goal: the port of Cadiz. “The captain must surely have an answer for us.”

  “But will he share it?” Marta asked, glancing with resentment toward the forecastle deck and the place where the captain kept his perch. Marta was likely still stinging from the scolding the captain gave her days ago when she was out on deck and toying with some odd sailor tool.

  “He will see us home,” Chloe said brightly. Captain Rawlings knew what he was about. She trusted him to figure out a way for them to land in Cadiz. The knots in her belly tightened painfully as she realized she would be meeting her Uncle Miguel within hours, perhaps by noon.

  “Mrs. O’Donovan.” Jinx sidled up beside her. “There it is; your ancestral home. A lovely ivory and bronze jewel rising out of the sea, at least, what we can see of it beyond that British blockade.”

  “Blockade? How will we get through them, Mr. Jinx?”

  He pointed above them, toward the main mast. “What do you see up there on the flag pole, ma’am?”

  Chloe followed the line of his finger. The mast held numerous sails, large and small. “I see an English Flag.” She turned to the first mate. “We are an English ship.” She felt silly for not realizing something so simple. Ravencrest was part of a larger group of islands, St. Kitts being the main one. St. Kitts was under British rule.

  “We are today, ma’am. We are today.”

  She didn’t stop to ponder his odd phrase. Chloe raced up the forecastle deck and up to the captain, uncaring if he took offense at her boldness in approaching his sacred place above the main deck without invitation. With any luck, they would be parting this evening, when she was safely nestled in her uncle’s home in Cadiz. “Captain, may I look though your spyglass?”

  He pulled the long brass cylinder away from his eye and turned to regard her with alarm. “Mrs. O’Donovan, what have I repeatedly told your adolescent maid about running on the decks?”

  “Not to,” she said with a smirk, refusing to allow him to spoil this moment for her. “May I see my father’s homeland, please?” She held out her hand expectantly.

  Jack Rawlings did not comment. Nor did he refuse her. The long, cool cylinder was placed in her palm. “Don’t drop it.”

  She lifted the lens to her eye and squinted against the sun. It was morning, an hour before noon. The sun was still rising before them. “Oh, I can see towers.” There were majestic towers rising from the island city and a shiny dome. “Is that a cathedral?”

  “Yes, and to the right of the city is San Sebastian, a medieval fortress. And if you move the glass an inch to the left of the city, you’ll see the other battlement …”

  “Don’t tell
me, St. Shawn?” Shawn and Sebastian were the Beaumont twins.

  “Santa Catalina. Both heavily guarded by a garrison of British soldiers, I’ll wager.”

  Chloe studied the fort through the spyglass. There were rows and rows of pale stones lining the quay, and more rows of heavy stone of the same composition making up the walls of the fortress. There was a fortress on the island of St. Kitts, the old stone fort that overlooked the harbor at Basseterre. That one had dull grey stone and was drab. This one, with the sun shining on it just so appeared to be a pale golden castle rising above the sea.

  The city was surrounded by a high stone wall. It was an island, just off the shore of Spain. Her father had spoken of this city often. Chloe wished she could remember more of his stories.

  “May I have that back?” Jack asked with brusque impatience. He held out his hand. “I’m trying to determine which ship to approach. There must be an admiral on board one of them, unless he’s in the city. If so, I need to speak to his second in command. We must approach slowly and not give them any reason to suspect we might not be an English ship.”

  Chloe reluctantly surrendered the spyglass. She shielded her eyes with her hand and studied the array of ships flanking the harbor. “What happens if they believe we are not a British vessel?”

  Jack’s scowl was profound. He was frowning at the fleet before them, his jaw set, his expression grim. “They could fire upon us, blow us out of the water. Since Trafalgar, the British have guarded these waters. I did not realize they would hold the port of Cadiz. Trafalgar is several leagues south of us. These ships are all that stand between Napoleon’s fleet. If they suspect that we are French, they may attack, take us hostage and take the Pegasus as a prize.”

  Chloe didn’t understand his concern. She turned from the rail to frown at him. “Captain, you speak riddles to me. I am coming to my homeland. Why would the English suspect the ship that I am on is not truly English? It seems silly to worry.”