“Indeed?”
“Hmm. She, too, has very… decided views regarding male notions of invincibility.”
After a moment, she said, “I believe your sister and I will get along famously—she sounds like a sensible woman.”
Toby swallowed a laugh and was frankly amazed that he felt so lighthearted. Yet he did.
Diana glanced at his half-cleared plate, then rose. “Stay, eat”—she gathered the rest of their party with a glance—“and by the time you’re finished, we’ll have the coach loaded and the horses between the shafts, and all you’ll have to do is drive off.”
He wasn’t sure that was wise—at least not regarding the horses and the luggage distribution—but neither she nor the others waited for him to agree. They rose, the children cheered, and everyone hurried out, leaving him to his very welcome breakfast.
By the time he finished, paid and thanked the Leclercs for their always reliable hospitality, and headed for the door, he did, indeed, feel much more up to the task of driving the coach to Marseille as fast as the horses could go.
As promised, the carriage was ready, the horses shifting between the shafts, clearly eager to run. The others saw him coming and, after calling farewells to the lads, whom they’d apparently befriended, piled into the coach.
Diana shut the door on the children and Helga and walked to wait by the steps to the box.
When he arched his brows at her, she stated, “Over this stage, I’ve decided I would prefer to ride up top with you.”
He wasn’t averse to having her beside him as they raced along the picturesque coast. Accepting her decision with an inclination of his head, he reached for her hand and helped her climb up.
Once she was settled, he thanked the stable lads—the Leclercs’ sons—and tipped them well, then climbed up to sit beside Diana. After looping the reins in his hands, he released the brake and guided the horses out of the yard and back onto the road.
Soon, they were pacing briskly along the corniche, with the sea far below on one side and the cliffs rising on the other.
From inside the coach came sounds of the children excitedly exclaiming over the waves and the seabirds soaring along the cliffs. Occasionally, a curious bird would hover level with the coach’s windows for a time before peeling away to plunge and swoop over the waves and the glittering sea. Toby breathed deeply and saw Diana do the same. With one hand anchoring her bonnet against the rushing breeze, she tipped her head up to the morning sun, and fleetingly, he drank in her features.
Then he refocused on the road ahead, unspooling before them as they raced to Nice, their first halt on the road to Marseille.
* * *
Toby droveinto the streets of Marseille at a brisk but restrained clip. The last thing he wished to do at this point was attract attention; the fewer people who noticed them passing, the better.
At Nice, he’d exchanged both horses and coach for a more lightly sprung and faster carriage and four horses less powerful but more suited to running on the straighter, flatter road between Nice and Marseille.
Diana was looking about. She turned to stare at a distant tower as the bells within it pealed. “Five o’clock!” She glanced at him. “I didn’t think we’d reach here this early.”
“Neither did I.” They’d made excellent time. He steered the horses to a spot from where they could get a clear view of the ships berthed at the docks lining the edge of the low-lying basin below. He halted the horses, and he and Diana—and no doubt those inside the carriage—looked over the roofs of Marseille to the bay beyond, studded with masts and the bobbing hulls of countless merchant vessels.
He pointed. “Those are the docks where the British ships come in.”
He scanned the vessels tied up to the long line of wharves, then softly swore.
Her hand shading her eyes, Diana confirmed, “I can’t see any British flag. Every other country, it seems, but not ours.”
“No. So we won’t be heading directly to the docks.” He’d hoped they could have, that it would have been a simple matter of driving there, unloading, and walking straight up a gangplank to safety. Instead…
His lips tightening, he raised his gaze and searched among the ships waiting farther out for their time to berth, unload, and load up again. With considerable relief, he saw three British vessels in the waiting pool. He pointed them out to Diana. “Any one of those three will do.” All were merchantmen and could be counted on to render aid to any of Winchelsea’s agents.
Straightening, he added, “And if necessary, we can always change ships at Gibraltar.”
Diana glanced at him. “Because the faster we get off French soil, the better?”
He nodded and flicked the reins, setting the horses walking again. “As far as I know, the French have yet to become embroiled in this mission, and I would much prefer to keep it that way. Having the Austrians and the Prussians to avoid is bad enough. Having to slip past the local authorities as well would make our escape significantly more difficult.”
He drove slowly, hoping to project the image of weary travelers whose only interest was finding a suitable inn. As he was confident that, wherever their pursuers were, they weren’t yet in Marseille, he drove directly to the Rue Tapis Vert and the ancient inn of the same name.
After angling the horses through the tight entrance, he drew them to a halt on the packed dirt of the yard.
