Captain Jack's Woman (Bastion Club 0.50)

She wanted to share his life, not forever be a peripheral part of it, an adjunct held at arms’ distance by the

simple device of information control.

Kit’s eyes glittered; her lips thinned. It was time she devoted more of her energies to her husband’s education.

It was late morning before she felt comfortable in leaving the Frenchman—who was clearly no Frenchman at all. There was no possiblity of hiding her male garb, so she didn’t try. She rode straight to the Castle stables and dismounted elegantly as Martins ran up, his eyes all but popping from his head.

“Take care of Delia, Martins. You can return her to the back paddock later and bring up the chestnut. I’ll not be riding again today.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kit marched to the house, stripping off her gloves as she went. Lovis was in the hall when she entered. Kit sent one defiant glance his way. To his credit, not a muscle quivered as he came forward, his stately demeanor unimpaired by a sight which, Kit suspected, sorely tried his conservative soul.

“Lovis, I want to send a message immediately to Mr. Smeaton. I’ll write a note; I want one of the men ready to carry it to Smeaton Hall as soon as I’ve finished.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Lovis moved to open the library door for her. “Martins’s son will be waiting.”

Pulling the chair up to her husband’s desk, Kit drew a clean sheet of paper toward her. The note to George was easy, suggesting he go immediately to the aid of his “French” friend, whom she’d left in the cottage, somewhat hors de combat. She paused, then penned a final sentence.

“I feel sure that you, being so much more in Jack’s confidence, will know better than I how best to proceed.”

Kit signed the note with a flourish, a grim smile on her lips. Perhaps it was unfair to make George squirm, but she was beyond feeling amiable toward those who’d helped her husband attain his present state of arrogance. She addressed the missive, confident it would send George posthaste to his friend’s help. He could take subsequent responsibility.

She rang the bell and gave the note to Lovis to speed on its way.

For the next twenty minutes, she barely stirred, her mind engrossed with forming and discarding various options for bringing Jack’s shortcomings to his attention.

When it came to it, she could think of only one way to proceed. There was no point in any complex maneuvers—he was far more expert in manipulation than she. In truth, she had little idea of how to go about bringing him to her heels in true feminine fashion. If she went that route, she’d a shrewd suspicion she’d end on her back, beneath him, leaving him as arrogant as ever. And as unwilling as ever to make concessions. The best she could hope to do was to make a statement—something dramatic enough to make him sit up and take notice, something definite enough for him to be forced to at least acknowledge her point of view.

Determination beating steady in her veins, Kit set out another sheet of paper and settled to write a letter to her errant spouse.

Jack arrived home on Monday evening. He’d had to wait until that morning to speak to Lord Whitley. Various schemes were already afoot to flush out the man they believed was Belville’s Henry. All that remained was to wait for Anthony’s return, to see if there were any more traitors to track down. They were nearly there.

With a deep sigh, Jack climbed the steps to his front door. Lovis opened it to him.

“My lord. Mr. Smeaton asked you be given this the instant you crossed the threshold.”

Jack tore open the single sheet. George’s writing took a moment to decipher. Then Jack heaved a weary sigh. He hesitated, wondering whether to send a message up to Kit. He wouldn’t be back in time for dinner. It was doubtful he’d be back before she was abed. With a slow grin, he went back out the door. Much better to take her by surprise. “I’ll return later tonight, Lovis. No need to tell anyone I was here.”

At the cottage, he was greeted by a much-improved Sir Anthony. George was not there to hear the recounting of Antoine’s adventures; he’d been summoned to a Gresham dinner.

“One of the trials of an affianced man.” Grinning, Jack pulled up a chair, straddling it. It transpired that the French had tracked Antoine down, not out of suspicion, but in order to interrogate him in case he knew more than he’d yet revealed. He’d escaped by stowing away aboard a lighter bound for Boston on the other side of the Wash. Unfortunately, it had also turned out to be a smugglers’ vessel. Smugglers did not like stowaways; he’d had to fight his way off, throwing himself overboard before they’d skewered him.

Anthony’s tale suggested that the French were desperate for information. The news that there were only two traitors left was music to Jack’s ears. “We’ve got them.” Quickly, he filled Anthony in on the happenings on the beach after he’d taken ship, referring to Kit only as another member of the Gang.

“George said something about that,” Anthony said. “But he said he’d leave it to you to elaborate as you ‘had a deeper interest in Belville’s death.’ What on earth did he mean?”

Jack had the grace to blush. “Don’t ask.”

Anthony threw him a look of mock surprise. “Keeping secrets from your friends, Jack m’lad, is most unwise.”

“You’ll meet this secret eventually so I wouldn’t repine.” At the intrigued look on Anthony’s, face, Jack continued quickly: “Whitley thinks Belville’s Henry, whom we believe is Sir Henry Colebourne, will be behind bars in a few days at most. Which, together with your information, means the end is nigh. We’ll have got them all.”

Anthony lay back on his pillows with a deep sigh. “However will they get along without us, now we’ve all sold out?”

“I’m sure they’ll manage. Personally, I’ve got fresh fields to plow, so to speak.” Jack’s smile of anticipation was transparent.

Anthony’s gaze descended from the ceiling to examine the odd sight of Jack’s eagerness for civilian life. “I don’t suppose,” he said, “your newfound liking for peaceful endeavors has anything to do with the redheaded lad who brought me here?” At Jack’s arrested expression, Anthony quietly added: “Taken to the other side, Jack?”