“Daisy? What are you doing?”
When she looked back, she saw him once more. The husband she adored.She would not let Reginald take him. She would do anything for him.
“I am the Benevolent Phantom,” she told Reginald. “My husband is defending me. But I am the one you must take to Rostin.”
“He shall do no such thing,” Albion growled. “Daisy, stop it. Reginald, don’t be a fool.”
“I think I see what’s going on here.” Reginald narrowed his eyes. “A husband-wife team is it, then? No matter. I have requested assistance from the local gendarmes to assist intransporting you directly to the Duke of Rostin, where you shall both answer for your crimes.”
“Only me!” Diana cried. “Take me. You have no need of us both.”
“She has done nothing wrong, Reg. You must know that. Hold me responsible, as is proper.”
“It matters not which of you I take. But seeing as how the two of you are each so intent on assuming culpability, perhaps Rostin should have you both.” He took a step closer to Diana. “I advise you to rethink your words, my dear. Let your husband reap what he has sown. I can’t imagine his faithful friends, even the Prince Regent himself, care to wrestle with Rostin.”
“You are a clever man, Reg,” Albion said quietly. “And I know you to be a gentleman who would never hold a lady to account for her husband’s crimes.”
Reginald pressed his lips together. “You’re right. Shame on you, Lord Albion, for leading your wife down such a wicked path.”
“As you are a gentleman, will you allow me one last request?”
Reginald cocked his head. “Name it.”
“That snuff you keep on your person. Fine stuff. Not likely to see anything of the sort in Rostin’s dungeons. Might I enjoy a pinch?”
“You never seemed interested in it before.”
Albion shrugged. “Never saw the appeal in the past, but it seems I may not have much time remaining to try anything new. Will you join me in a pinch?”
Never known to refuse an opportunity to partake, Reginald withdrew the box from his pocket. Diana tried to still her racing heart. Reginald was about to pass the box to Albie but couldn’t resist taking a pinch for himself first.
As soon as he did so, the box dropped to the floor, contents spilling, and Reginald fell into an uncontrollable bout of sneezing. She caught a whiff of table pepper.
Albie grabbed her arm. Diana would have headed toward the front, but Albie pulled her to the kitchen, where Monsieur Bacri waited. But no look of disgust crossed his face. He bowed to Albion, handed him a small portmanteau, and escorted them to the back door.
"Those supplies should help fortify you on the voyage home," he told them in English. "The Comtesse's son should be waiting in the appointed place, along with your men. If constables are approaching via the high road, they shall soon surround the house. Leave at once and cut through the back garden. That path will take you directly to the boat landing."
“Thank you,” Albion replied. “I believe Reginald will have difficulty communicating instructions at present. That should provide sufficient time. But once Reg has recovered, you might continue to berate him for allowing an orc to tarnish your fine establishment.” Then, with a wink for Diana: “How fortunate to have friends who are such devilish fine actors. Now, let us retrieve your sister and escape this place.”
And Diana joined Albion in the gray twilight descending over the coast.
When they reached the groundskeeper’s cottage a few minutes later, Lillian, William, and Edward Langley were waiting. At Lillian’s side stood a thin, pallid boy of about fourteen, who kept his gaze downcast shyly when introduced as Jacques. Diana was granted only a quick squeeze of Lillian’s shoulder by way of greeting. Then Albion thrust the portmanteau Bacri had given him into Edward’s arms, clasped his hand in Diana’s,and wasted not one more second hurrying the group along the garden’s cobblestone pathway to the dock. Two men in loose shirts, trousers that hung just below their knees, and matching duck cotton vests busied themselves, lowering a platform from the bow of a modest-looking boat. It was perhaps sixty feet long, its hull a subdued shade of blue that nearly blended into the gentle waters lapping the dock behind Monsieur Bacri’s inn.
“A private conveyance?” Diana gawked at the vessel.
“ChristenedHyacinth,” Albion said. “My cousin is to thank for it. Hugh. We shan’t need to wait for the next packet ship to cross the Channel.”
“It is a most unusual design.” An upper deck was stacked above the main one atop the hull, providing sufficient room for perhaps a half-dozen passenger berths. While masts and rigging extended vertically on either side of the deck, they currently bore no sails. Instead, she saw a steam pipe rising from the ship’s center and a paddle wheel at the stern.
“A steamship!” She exclaimed, louder than intended. “Is it seaworthy?”
“You’ve so little faith in me, madam. Never underestimate Orcan ingenuity.” Albion smiled. “Dash it all. I sound like Dunc! But the design is remarkably clever. It requires a limited crew: a captain to steer and a first mate to provide relief. And they can raise the sails when we reach open water. But I am assured that under the power of a steam engine, we shall depart with all due haste.”
Diana nodded, taking in the marvel she was about to board. “We are bypassing Calais, then. But what of the customs officers on the other side of the Channel?”
“In the past, they were easy enough to convince to look the other way,” Albion said. “A few crisp banknotes, and they needn’t bother themselves with us. However, given the excessive bounty on the Phantom, I took an extra precaution. We shall sailnorth along the English coast to Yarmouth. It will take longer than going to Dover, for sure, but Bacri’s supplies should help fortify us. And then Hugh will meet us forthwith and serve as a companion for Lillian if it pleases. I trust him with my life.”
“As long as we are all safe,” Diana said. “I don’t think I will ever ask for more from this life.”
