Page 10 of The Scandal of the Season (Fairfax Sisters #2)

Chapter Ten

THE ARROW AND DASHER

Several hours later

T he first sound she heard was the faint cry of a paddle steamer, echoing the gulls.

Sophie woke with a violent start, conscious the comforting blanket of darkness had been swapped for cold, clingy tendrils of morning, and a complete desertion of the courage she’d felt at midnight.

Tentatively, she blinked– once, twice– denying the changes around her before fresh fear began seeping through her veins. It had to be impossible, and yet stark reality said otherwise. Somehow, she’d swapped the luxurious interior of Lord Rotherby’s chaise for an even more luxurious bedchamber, that also appeared to be moving!

Furiously, Sophie patted her person and clothing, all of which appeared to be intact, before scrambling off the comfortable bed and lurching to a small, oddly circular window. For a second, she stared in numb denial at the busy harbour walkway, and then a nauseous twist reached up from the pit of her stomach. Somehow, she’d not only fallen asleep, she’d slept right through a transfer to a tethered yacht too! A vague dream of whinnying horses, banging doors and muffled shouts began to seep into her thoughts. Back at Knightswood, she was famous for sleeping through everything, including thunderstorms, but even she couldn’t have slept though her only chance of saving her own neck, could she? And how had they not discovered her identity?

She swallowed, staring at the early harbour workers through the grey mist, and trying to force her dazed brain to work. She’d assumed Lord Rotherby would be travelling by either The Arrow or The Dasher , the new cross-Channel wooden paddle steamers Phoebe and the viscount used to start their honeymoon, but of course he would have the comfort of his own yacht. He’d never travel in anything, but the lap of luxury.

Panic-stricken, she spun from the window and rushed to the cabin door, determined to get off while she still could. She had no idea how to catch the public stage all the way from Dover, or if she could arrive at her aunt’s lodgings with anything like a plausible story, and yet the alternative was too awful to contemplate. If the truth became known in the polite world, she would’ve as good as absconded with Lord Rotherby, thus tarnishing her reputation forever. She would be no better than Aurelia, if not a whole sight worse.

Yet, even as she reached for the door handle, there were footsteps outside and a brusque knock at the door. Horrified, she shrank back and pulled her cloak hood as far forward as possible, before fumbling for her pocket. By some miracle, the miniature crossbow still appeared to be secreted within her skirts and she felt a moment’s reassurance. Whatever his reaction, she still stood a chance of getting away before the rest of Dover witnessed her shame.

‘Guv’nor sends his best compliments,’ came a gruff, unknown voice, ‘and asks if you have any special requests for refreshment?’

Sophie blinked as her disbelief evaporated. Lord Rotherby had dared carry her aboard his boat, and now he didn’t even have the decency to face her?

‘He has already requested coffee and a selection of?—’

But whatever his lordship had requested was lost entirely as Sophie yanked the door open to find his tiger standing there, looking much more like a recalcitrant child than a respectful groom.

Momentarily she glowered, wondering whether to scream or try to run, but then she noted his querulous face and felt a flicker of hope. He didn’t seem at all concerned by the absence of Mrs Haxby, and looked every inch a cross wildling, entirely different to the pan-faced grooms she was used to seeing around town. Perhaps he could be persuaded to help.

She pulled her cloak tighter, suddenly conscious of how much she needed to use a water closet.

‘Thank you,’ she said, nodding abruptly.

‘Who placed me in this cabin please… sorry, I don’t know your name?'

‘Me, and it’s Horace, Miss’ he replied tersely. ‘Guvnor needed to brief the crew and didn’t want no one else doing it. I was very careful,’ he added swiftly. ‘Just left you sleeping, like the guvnor said.’

‘I see,’ Sophie replied slowly, realising that if Horace had carried her aboard, it meant her identity could actually still be a secret.

‘Horace, I find I need a few moments alone before I meet his lordship. A few… lady moments, that is. Could you escort me, discreetly, to the inn, do you think? I promise it won’t take much of your time.’

She forced a beguiling smile then, the one she reserved for family and people she actually liked, and for a second the redoubtable Horace stared before he scowled again.

‘The guvnor asked me to check for any special requests and that’s all,’ he growled, making Sophie sorely regret her initial impression. ‘Not that you don’t seem a nice enough filly,’ he continued in a kinder tone, ‘but I don’t get to make orders, jus’ follow ’em. And I daresay you can still ’ave them lady moments as this yacht has more luxuries than I’ve ’ad ’ot dinners,’ he added with a shrug. ‘You jus’ need to ask the guvnor w’en he gets ‘ere.’

‘I’m not asking your guvnor anything!’ Sophie replied fiercely. ‘Please stand aside so I may?—’

‘We leave as soon as the tide is with us,’ came his lordship’s faint tone, framed by the sound of brisk boots across a wooden deck.

Sophie shrank back again, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever in her life.

‘Thank gawd,’ Horace said with relief. ‘I ain’t got the patter for fillies an’ no mistake,’ he added, before walking away.

Furiously, she gripped the crossbow in her pocket and stiffened at some faint laughter, starkly aware some of the deckhands must have witnessed her undignified embarkation on board. She stepped back in a rush, suddenly fearful of everything; and then he was in the doorway, his tall figure silhouetted in the brightening morning, a roguish light in his eyes.

‘Good morning, Mrs Letitia Haxby,’ he began silkily, starting towards her. ‘I trust you have rested well my love? I have taken the liberty of ordering breakfast for you, but just say if you’d like anything in particular. I apologise for the swift journey, the tide waits for no man, but now we are finally alone we can begin to?—’

‘Stop right where you are, Rotherby!’ Sophie growled, pulling out the small crossbow and aiming it directly at his lordship’s chest.

There was a sharp curse as he pulled up short and scrutinised her in utter astonishment.

‘Miss Fairfax?’ he exclaimed in genuine shock. ‘What in the name of every blackguard known to England are you doing here?’