“And arrange passage on a ship back to England.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The two men shook hands, and Alex mounted his horse. He spurred the horse forward and Lucia followed, glancing back to see Dewhurst riding in the opposite direction. In the alley, the carriage and one horse stood forlornly in the empty darkness.
Chapter Twenty-four
Alex had pushed their horses hard the first few hours, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and De´charne´. Now that they were out of immediate danger, Alex had slackened his pace, and for the first time Lucia took stock of herself. She was cold, dirty, and every inch of her felt as though it had been pummeled with rocks—mostly her head.
Steadying herself on the jouncing horse, Lucia released the reins with one hand and gingerly rubbed at the lump sprouting from the back of her skull, where it had hit the wall during the scuffle in Madame Loinger’s kitchen. Though she had barely felt it at the time, her panic masking every other feeling, now she was all too aware of every discomfort.
It was almost dawn, and they’d been riding since eleven the night before, with only one brief stop to change horses at a small inn outside Calais. Alex hadn’t allowed her to go inside with him, insisting that she hide in the trees nearby, crouching in the damp, scratchy grass. It was the first and last time he’d spoken to her in the last six hours.
She tried to initiate conversation several times, only to be met with surly stares or glowering silences. She didn’t know why he should be so angry with her. He was the one who’d decided to take her to Paris. Not that she would have agreed to going home with Dewhurst. Her brother needed her. But despite his decision, Alex obviously didn’t want her with him. He’d be rid of her at the first opportunity.
As the sun rose before them, Lucia forced herself to accept her next realization. Not only did Alex not want her with him on this mission, he wanted her out of his life. From the beginning, he’d made it clear he wanted no entanglements, and what was she if not an entanglement? She’d fallen for a rake. Everyone knew rakes didn’t fall in love. Love was a game for a rake. They pursued women, seduced them, and abandoned them, ruining their conquests in more ways than one.
Lucia clutched her reins more tightly and stared at Alex’s back. Had she really meant no more to him than Amelia Cox? She didn’t believe that. Couldn’t believe it. There was something extraordinary between them.
But he was fighting it with everything he had. She narrowed her eyes at his broad back as he hunched to avoid a low-hanging branch.
What was Alex afraid of?
As if hearing her thoughts, Alex turned to her, the golden sunrise glinting off the tawny streaks in his hair. With a wave he motioned for her to follow him down a small slope where a cold, clear brook gurgled over stones, then disappeared again in the undergrowth. He dismounted and caught her by the waist so she could do the same. As soon as her feet touched the ground, he released her and walked away. Lucia huffed in indignation, but inside the pain ripped at her heart.
While the horses drank, Lucia studied Alex from the corner of her eye.
He’d shaved while at Madame Loinger’s, but now the stubble had returned, making his features shadowed and foreboding. His gray eyes were hard pewter, determination and intent reflected in their steely gaze. He glanced at her, and she saw a flicker of the Alex she loved before the steel wall rose again.
“I’m not to blame for this, you know,” she said, thrusting her hands on her hips. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting as though I were.”
He raised his eyes again to meet hers, piercing her with his steel daggers. She half expected him to walk away, but instead he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. She clenched her hands on her hips and prayed for control. She could feel her temper rising. “Tell me what you’ve planned, what you’re thinking. I want to help find my brother.” Her words were clipped but even.
Alex shook his head. “This isn’t a game.”
Lucia’s jaw dropped, and she eyed several large stones near her feet. Maybe a good knock on the head would rid him of some of his monstrous arrogance. She took a deep breath. “You are the most arrogant, most insufferable man I have ever met,” she said through clenched teeth. “If you would stop treating me like a child for one minute, you would see that I might actually be able to help you.”
“Help me?” he said and barked a laugh. “Sweetheart, with you by my side we’re virtually assured of capture. I can disappear, but you—you with your bloody beautiful face and temptress body—draw more attention than batty King George would if he marched up to the doors of Notre Dame at high noon.”
Lucia stared at him, her fingers itching to pick up one of the stones and hurl it right between his eyes. Instead she took a step forward and jabbed a finger at him. “Well, perhaps you should concentrate on disguising me rather than chastising me for something I have no control over.”
Alex frowned and turned away. “Dammit, Lucia. I should have put you on that ship for England.” He ran a hand through his hair. “After what happened at Sophie’s, I can’t trust anyone. Paris is the worst place for us right now.”
Lucia frowned. “What do you mean, after what happened at Sophie’s? Do you think someone betrayed you?”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “There’s no other explanation. I was betrayed and by someone who knows me, knows my contacts and my safe houses.”
“Who?” Lucia asked, her anger subsiding. “Another spy?”
“It has to be. No one but the Foreign Office’s most trusted operatives knew about Sophie. There’s Henri, but he’s dead. Wentworth.” He shook his head. “Out of the question. Dewhurst. Winterbourne.” He ticked off two fingers. “Your brother.” His eyes flicked to hers.
“No, Alex.” She shook her head vehemently. “John would never betray you—or England.”
Alex walked a few paces and turned, bracing his hand on a tree. “Too many coincidences, Lucia,” he said. “Dashing disappears, and I’m called in to find him.”
“By my father and your own brother!” Lucia started forward. “Surely you don’t suspect either of them.”
Alex frowned and gave a wave of concession. “All right. But it doesn’t absolve your brother. We know he was staying at Sophie’s, and as soon as we show up, we’re met by De´charne´ and his men. Almost like someone knew we would go there. Knew where we’d be hiding.”
“It’s impossible, Alex,” Lucia argued. “You wouldn’t even be in Calais if De´charne´ hadn’t abducted us in Town. How could John have known about that when he’s been in Paris?”
