A Daring Passion

“Captain, this woman is my guest and she will be coming with us, make no mistake about that.” His eyes narrowed. “And if I suspect for even one moment that you or one of your crew has treated her with anything less than absolute respect, you will find yourself swimming home. Do I make myself clear?”

Miles swallowed heavily. “Quite clear, sir.”

“Good.” Philippe straightened, squashing the ridiculous urge to beat the man bloody. “Did you search the docks as I asked?”

Clearly relieved at the change of subject, Miles gave a jerky nod of his head.

“Aye.”

“Did you discover anything?”

“Only a handful of rumors that a Frenchman was roaming the local pubs trying to bribe his way aboard a ship. No one managed to catch his name.”

“What of a description?”

“They all said the same thing. A thin man with a shabby coat and a habit of muttering to himself.”

Philippe frowned. “That’s not much to go on.”

Miles shrugged. “They thought him touched in the noodle and ran him off whenever they could. They did say they thought he had managed to leave port a day or two before we arrived.”

It was what Philippe had been expecting, but that did not prevent a stab of frustration. He was weary of being one step behind Seurat. He wanted the villain in his grasp.

“Did they know where he was staying?”

“Hiding among the rubbish, most likely.”

“But it was certain that he was headed to France?”

“Aye.”

“Very well.” Philippe gave a nod toward the waiting carriage. “Have your men load our belongings into the boat. We will leave as soon as Carlos arrives.”

Miles lifted a hand and two men appeared from the shadows near the shore. Together the men moved up the path and began collecting the heavy trunks strapped to the back of the carriage.

Philippe was just about to follow them when there was a sound to his side and Carlos abruptly appeared near the rock.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Philippe said, his gaze flicking over his companion’s dark clothes. Carlos had left the inn

directly after luncheon to prowl through the various taprooms to discover what news could be had of France. Even with the monarchy restored it remained a restless, unpredictable place. “What news?”

“By all accounts the atmosphere is tense,” Carlos retorted. “Charles remains in power and determined to return France to the true Royalists. There are no demonstrations in the streets yet, but the populous is agitated.”

Philippe smiled wryly. “When is France not agitated? It possesses a need to keep itself in turmoil.”

“True enough.”

“Is it safe to travel?”

“Beyond the occasional mobs and demands for the end to the Bourbon rule.”

“As safe as France can ever be,” Philippe said dryly.

“Precisely. What of Seurat?”

Philippe grimaced. “Every trail leads to France.”

“I was afraid you would say that.” Carlos shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his head toward the slender form still poised at the top of the bluff. “You are truly taking her with us?”