Page 27 of Exile's Return

He glanced at her. ‘Lucas, of course. Why do you ask?’

‘If I am to be your travelling companion, it may be useful to know why you travel under a false name.’

His mouth tightened. ‘I’m not sure if you want to know, but I promised you honesty. Call it prudence. I am quite possibly a wanted man in this country, Mistress Fletcher.’

Her heart sank. Her instincts had been right; she had thrown her lot in with a brigand of some sort. Admittedly a well-bred brigand.

‘Perhaps I should ask what you did?’ she enquired, trying to keep her voice level.

He sighed. ‘A little bit of privateering.’

‘So you are a pirate?’

He flinched. ‘A privateer…there is a difference. However, I sailed aboard a French ship and we encountered the occasional English ship, so that may make me less than welcome if the authorities were to discover my true identity.’ He glanced at her, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, the grey eyes twinkling. ‘You’re safe enough with me, Mistress Fletcher. At heart, I am quite respectable, and as far as the English authorities are concerned, they know only of a man known asLe Loup Anglais. It is to be hoped they do not make any connections.’

She laughed. ‘The English Wolf. A somewhat romantic name.’

‘Not my invention, believe me.’

‘So, how did you come to be a privateer aboard a French ship with such an exotic nom de guerre’ she enquired.

His eyes narrowed and he turned his concentration back to the road ahead, a muscle twitching in his cheek. ‘That is none of your concern.’

She had stepped over the unseen boundary in their burgeoning friendship. She let the silence pass between them before she tried a different tactic.

‘Where is home for you?’ she asked, urging her horse to come alongside him.

He gave her an infuriated glare. ‘You ask a lot of questions, Agnes.’

‘You asked me if I was James Ashby’s mistress; I think that entitles me to ask you a few highly personal questions,’ she responded.

His mouth quirked and that intriguing half smile lightened his countenance. ‘Home, what’s left of it, is Eveleigh Priory, near Chester.’

‘And your family?’

He sighed. ‘I am not deserving of this interrogation, Mistress Fletcher, but as you are so curious, I have a perfectly respectable mother and sister who, I sincerely hope, will be very pleased to see me.’

‘Are they expecting you?’

He glanced at her, his face concealed by the brim of his low-crowned hat.

‘I thought I might surprise them.’

‘When did you last see them?’

‘Eight years ago.’ He paused, and added in a tight voice, ‘They probably think I’m dead.’

Agnes studied his profile. Only the slightest twitching of a muscle near his mouth betrayed any emotion.

‘Then I have no doubt you will surprise them,’ she remarked bitterly. ‘I don’t understand why you would not go there now. If I were in your place…’

He glanced at her, a flush of colour rising to his cheeks. ‘You are not me, Mistress Fletcher. I have the King’s business to contract first.’

She stared at him. ‘The King’s business? But I thought this was about Tobias Ashby.’

His mouth tightened. ‘It is,’ he said in a clipped tone. ‘Ask me no more questions, or I swear I will leave you on the side of the road and continue alone.’

Chastened, Agnes dropped back. Now they had left the city behind, they were the lone travellers on this stretch of road. Ahead of them stands of trees loomed out of the autumnal mist, their leafless branches stark against the grey sky. Ealing Common. An eerie silence, unbroken even by birdsong, settled on the skeletal trees.