Runaway Lady. Claire Thornton

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СКАЧАТЬ he’s in Portsmouth.’

      ‘Why did he leave you here?’ Harry was so distracted by the masked woman’s disclosures that for a moment he almost forgot what his former guardian, the Earl of Swiftbourne, had told him that morning.

      He belatedly reminded himself that Saskia van Buren was the daughter of a Dutchwoman and an English baronet. According to Swiftbourne’s informant, she’d married a Dutchman at the age of twenty and spent the past six years living in Amsterdam. She’d returned to England a few weeks ago after she’d been widowed when her husband was killed in a naval battle with the English. Apparently, it was her husband’s death that had driven her to become an agent for the Dutch. If this was Saskia, it was extremely likely her ‘lord’ was nothing more than a fiction to cover her true plans.

      She drew in a deep breath. ‘May I remind you, fellow, that you are the one wishing to enter into temporary employment with me,’ she said crisply. ‘I am the one deciding if I will hire you. I ask the questions. Is that clear?’

      She didn’t sound as if she was overwhelmed with grief. Nor did Harry receive the impression that she was locked into the single-minded, bitter fury of vengeance. She did sound exasperated. Perhaps she wasn’t Saskia.

      He grinned, amused despite himself at her irritation. He had a temper of his own, though it rarely manifested itself when he was questioning potential employees. There was a plain wooden chair obviously intended for whoever the lady was currently interviewing. He turned it around, straddled it and rested his forearms along the back.

      ‘Ask away,’ he said cheerfully.

      There was silence for several moments.

      ‘Did you respond to my advertisement so you could entertain yourself by insulting me?’ the masked lady demanded.

      ‘I’m here because the Dutch are blockading the Thames,’ Harry replied, secretly pleased she’d challenged his deliberately provocative behaviour so directly. When he’d heard he would be confronting a vengeful widow, he’d been afraid he might have to deal with tears and emotional pleas.

      Although he couldn’t see her face, he saw her gloved fingers tighten on the mask, and sensed an increased tension grip her body. He was satisfied that whatever else might or might not be the truth, the lady was indeed sensitive to mention of England’s current enemy.

      ‘And what has that to do with my notice?’ she asked sharply.

      ‘I was going to sign up on a merchantman, but until the blockade is lifted…’ He shrugged. ‘If I don’t work, I don’t eat.’

      ‘What if the blockade is lifted and the ships sail before you can return to London?’ she asked.

      ‘There’s always another ship,’ he said nonchalantly, which was true, although he hadn’t built his fortune by habitually letting the initiative slide. ‘I am here, in need of work. What is it you want me to do?’

      ‘With such an arrogant, heedless attitude, I am surprised you ever find anyone willing to hire you,’ the lady said tartly.

      ‘They hire me because I am very good at what I do.’

      ‘What do you do?’

      ‘Many things.’

      ‘Be more specific. Can you use that sword by your side?’

      Harry laughed. ‘I’m hardly likely to say no,’ he pointed out. ‘I have guarded the passage of men and goods along many dangerous routes, from Scanderoon to Aleppo, Smyrna to Istanbul.’

      The mask moved slightly as the lady looked Harry carefully up and down.

      The fifteen years he’d spent in the Levant meant he was not used to being in the company of women. Whenever he was in the presence of his sister-in-law, Mary, he felt ill at ease, anxious that he do nothing to alarm her or embarrass his brother, Richard. After the Dutch attack on the English ships he’d escorted Richard, Mary and their newborn son to Mary’s family home in Bedfordshire. Once there, Harry had been invited by Mary’s parents to remain as an honoured guest, but he’d felt so uncomfortable in the presence of his sister-in-law and all her female relatives he’d claimed he had business to attend to in London. He’d given his apologies as courteously as he could, while inwardly castigating himself for his lack of social address. But when he’d heard the news from Swiftbourne that a Dutch agent was recruiting men at Richard’s coffee-house he was glad his return to London meant he was available to investigate the matter.

      The expressionless scrutiny by the masked lady was an odd, potentially disturbing experience, but it left Harry unmoved. If it had been Richard’s wife, or one of her sisters, studying him so closely Harry would have felt very unsettled—concerned he had either offended the lady or revealed his ignorance of the manners of polite English society in some subtle, unintentional way. But he felt no such qualms in the presence of the spy. What the lady saw was what she got. And since she hadn’t already dismissed him he was beginning to suspect he could be just what she wanted.

      If she really was a Dutch agent, recruiting men to work against England from within its borders, her interest in him might not be so surprising. Not if Swiftbourne’s parting shot was correct. ‘You have a lean and hungry look, Harry,’ his former guardian had said. ‘The kind of man any conscienceless agent would want to employ.’

      ‘You are judging me by yourself, my lord,’ Harry had replied drily, and received a characteristically enigmatic smile in response.

      ‘It will be your duty to protect me,’ the lady said, her words cutting across his thoughts.

      ‘From whom?’

      ‘My lord’s former…former mistress—her servants, that is.’

      Harry’s eyes widened briefly before he controlled his expression. Would a grieving widow have taken a lover already? Perhaps she hadn’t been so distressed by her husband’s death? But if she was enjoying her new freedom, it cast doubt over the claim she was determined to avenge her husband.

      ‘She is jealous, you see.’ The mask trembled briefly, before the lady’s hand steadied once more. Harry noted the tell-tale gesture and immediately suspected this was yet another lie.

      ‘Despite what you said, I assure you my beauty does not drive most men wild,’ said the masked lady, and from her tone he was inclined to believe she meant it. ‘But my lord is quite fond of me. Very fond of me. Besotted. I mean, devoted,’ she corrected herself quickly. ‘Unfortunately, his former mistress… Well, she wants to scratch my eyes out.’

      ‘You want to hire me to protect you from a cat fight?’ Harry exclaimed.

      ‘Of course not! I would never demean myself…she has servants, of course. They might try to cause me trouble on my journey to Portsmouth.’

      ‘Indeed. And what about your besotted, devoted lord?’ Harry found her description of her nameless lover very unconvincing.

      ‘What about him?’ the masked lady said uneasily.

      ‘Why did so devoted a gentleman ever let you out of his sight? Why is he not providing for your comfort and safety? Did he misuse his former mistress or fail to provide adequately for her when they parted? Does he know you are hiring a manservant in the back СКАЧАТЬ