“Freddie,” Lucia interrupted again, afraid that if she did not speed him along, the story would last all night. “You said Ethan was going to accompany you. Where is he?”
“Ah. Told him no thank you. Actually had to insist the man not accompany me. That took some doing, but the man has a wife and children to think of! After that delay, I boarded the yacht, and we sailed for France. It’s a fast vessel.” He swallowed. “Too fast actually, but we had no problem overtaking yours. We landed in Calais ahead of you.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Lucia said. “Nothing to it.” Freddie snapped his fingers.
“I doubt that.” She glanced at him, then looked down. “Did you see Francesca when you went to Ethan?”
“Oh, yes. And I must say, she is a good deal more pleasant than her husband. She was simply elegant in—”
“And did she say anything about me?” Lucia glanced up, then quickly down again.
“Hmm.” Freddie furrowed his brow. “Oh, yes. She was going to settle it to appear as though you’d been at Winterbourne Hall these past days with her. I believe she was dispatching a note to Lady Brigham when I left.”
Lucia rubbed her forehead. “That will not sit well with Mamma. But I suppose it is the only option.” Lucia lowered her eyes again, feeling the heat in her cheeks even before she whispered, “Do you think Francesca knew I’d been with Alex? In his company, I mean,” she stammered. She peeked at Dewhurst and saw that all the lightheartedness was gone from his face. He gave her a penetrating glance.
“Yes, and I apologize. I was discreet, but with the facts as they are—” He shrugged his shoulders regretfully.
“No, no!” Lucia grasped his arm reassuringly. “I know you didn’t say more than you had to.”
“No, but under normal circumstances, I would never—”
“Pray, think no more of it. Are we sailing tonight then?” she said, trying to change the subject.
He nodded. “Get some rest. It will be a long night.”
Yes, it would, she thought. But it wouldn’t end with her departure. “If that is all, Miss Dashing, I’ll take my leave,” Freddie said, pulling his hat from beneath his arm.
“Of course. Where are you off to?”
The playful look from earlier reappeared. “There’s a bit of muslin downstairs with ravishing red hair. I was hoping for an introduction.”
Well, he wasn’t going to get it from her. Men! She was about to tell him exactly what she thought of his lax morals, then thought of a better way.
“Oh, you must mean Emma?” Lucia said sweetly. Marie had introduced her to some of the girls and told her about others. “She’s a very nice girl. Only seventeen.”
Dewhurst frowned. “I don’t need to know—”
“Did you know both her mother and father died last year, and she was out on the street? She nearly starved, but Madame Loinger came to her rescue. Now she works here. Poor girl. Freddie, where are you going?”
He had turned and opened the door. “I need a drink,” he mumbled, and shut the door.
Chapter Twenty-three
Alex opened the door to the room Madame Loinger had appropriated for Dewhurst. It was little more than a cramped closet with a cot, a chair, and a bottle of gin. As Freddie wasn’t there, Alex took the liberty of opening the bottle himself, and he didn’t apologize when Freddie returned ten minutes later.
Sprawled on a chair, Alex nodded and took another swig from the nozzle.
“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t find any glasses.”
Freddie shut the door behind him, grabbed the bottle, and took a healthy swallow as well. Alex raised a brow. Even in the seediest settings, Dewhurst had always maintained certain standards of behavior. “What’s come over you?” Alex asked.
“Need you ask?” Freddie took another drink.
Alex raked a hand through his hair. “What’s she done now?”
“Only proceeded to give me the life history of a sweet wench I was hoping would keep me entertained this evening. Dash it if I don’t feel sorry for the chit now.” He took another drink.
Alex laughed and took the bottle from him. “Sounds like Lucia,” he said, downing his own portion.
