In the bedchamber as he changed he worked through the list of things to be done while Hughes jotted notes. ‘Book the best cabin you can get—no, make that two cabins, on the next ship for Calcutta. There is one in two weeks, apparently. Go for the best, even if that means settling for one bigger cabin rather than two—I’ll leave that to your judgement. On the way call in at the agent for the Half Moon Street house and tell him I want to extend the lease for another month.’
‘Staff, Captain? Footman, a cook-housekeeper and a maid?’
‘Yes, that will do. Get them round there as soon as possible, I want the place clean and provisioned by tonight.’
He had leased the little house for a new mistress just before the crisis with the admiral blew up and it had never been used for that purpose. Now, although it was in Mayfair and possibly dangerously close to Bradon, he thought Averil would feel comfortable there. It was not as if she was going to be going out much. His body stiffened all over again and he jerked his neck cloth tighter.
‘Uniform, Captain?’
‘Yes, I need to go down to the Admiralty.’ There was his finished report on the Scillies affair to present this afternoon, if he could manage to focus on that. Possibly they would have his new posting. If they wanted him to leave immediately, then they could think again. He found he could smile, his thumping headache beginning to melt away.
‘Tell Miss Heydon’s woman to make her mistress comfortable in here—she needs to rest.’
He buckled on his sword as he walked through into the main room. Averil had colour back in her cheeks and the plate was clean. She smiled at him as he stood in the doorway. ‘How handsome you look in uniform.’ She tilted her head to one side and studied him. ‘I preferred your hair longer, though.’
Luc grinned at her. ‘Flattering me? You do not have to, you know.’ He was unprepared for the feeling that hit him when she smiled back. It was as though she had always been there, in his rooms, smiling at him. Only two weeks. Fourteen days. How did you stretch time to make it last for ever? What was the matter with him? He had never wanted to keep a mistress beyond a few months before.
‘Do you feel better?’ Averil asked. She stood up and came to stand in front of him, frowning a little as she studied his newly shaven face. ‘Why did you get so drunk?’
Because he had decided to speak to the Comte de la Falaise today, ask his permission to pay his addresses to Louise, was the honest answer. Because he had contemplated married life and the prospect had filled him with nothing but gloom. An afternoon of brooding had failed to reveal why, when he was within an inch of achieving a major objective in his plans, he should feel so damnably flat and empty.
It was not as though he expected Louise’s father to refuse his suit. The man had been unbending subtly over the past few days. He had hinted that he had heard good things about Luc’s career prospects, he had made vague, but suggestive, enquiries about the d’Aunay lands in France.
And Louise would do exactly as her father told her. Not that there was any reason why she should not: she had never given any indication of disliking Luc. Nor, if he was honest, of favouring him above any of the other men who paid her the attention a pretty young lady received. She did not care, in effect. Which was exactly what he wanted, of course.
At that point in his mental processes he had begun drinking and had kept drinking, something he never did, not when he was alone. Burgundy had been succeeded by brandy, he recalled vaguely. Brandy had been followed by merciful oblivion and by waking with a head full of hedgehogs, a mouth full of dry hay and a stomach that was achingly empty.
And now he felt wonderful—and fearful, too. ‘I had been working very hard to finish my report to the Admiralty about our little adventure. It was late, I was tired, I did not notice how much I was drinking.’ He could not tell her about Louise and that proposal would have to wait. Wait until Averil had left, headed half a world away from him. Marrying a woman for whom he felt nothing would not matter then.
Averil sucked in her cheeks as though she was biting the inside of them to keep from saying something. When she eventually spoke all she said was, ‘I hope you finished it before you became drunk, if that is where you are going now.’
‘Yes,’ he said and showed her the leather portfolio under his arm. ‘All checked before I touched a drop. I am not going to disgrace myself.’
‘Good.’ She reached up and tweaked his neckcloth, her face absurdly serious as she inspected him.
‘That is very wifely, my dear,’ Luc said, enjoying being fussed over. The expression drained from her face.
‘I beg your pardon, I had no wish to presume.’
‘You are not. I enjoy being looked after. I—’ He touched the back of his hand to her cheek and swallowed, forgetting what he had meant to say in the feel of her skin, the way her eyes widened, became greener, the soft catch of her breath. If he wasn’t careful he would drag her into the bedroom and neither of them would emerge until tomorrow. And he must go to the Admiralty and she must rest.
‘I must go. Hughes is making arrangements for a house for you. Meanwhile use my chamber. Sleep. You are safe here.’
‘If Bradon finds out—’
‘How should he? I will keep you safe, Averil.’
‘I know, you always have.’ Her smile vanished in a huge yawn. ‘Oh! I am so sorry!’
‘So tired, you mean.’ He pointed at the bedchamber door. ‘Go and sleep.’
The bed smelled of Luc, the familiar scent of him from their little bed on the island all mixed up with clean linen, leather and an elusive, citrusy cologne.
Averil closed her eyes, burrowed into the pillows and let herself relax, finally.
‘I’ll be outside,’ Grace said. ‘I won’t go for my things until the captain’s man comes back.’
That brought her back to reality with a jerk. ‘No, go now.’ Averil sat up and pushed her hair back with both hands. ‘The longer you leave it the more suspicious they will be that I haven’t returned. I’ll be safe here.’