The Bride's Necklace Part 27

Tory only shook her head. "At first, I considered doing all of those things. I believed I could find a way to prove my innocence and everything would be all right. Then I realized that maybe this happened for a reason."

"Reason? What kind of reason?"

She dragged in a shaky breath. "Don't you see? Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity for Cord to escape the marriage. He wanted to marry an heiress, not a woman who came to him without a farthing. This is his chance, Claire."

She had known the truth from the start. If he hadn't been forced to marry her, Cord would have wed Constance Fairchild or any of a number of eligible women. Half the young ladies of the ton had been devastated to learn the earl of Brant had married a n.o.body from the country.

"Once he has his freedom," she finished, "Cord can have the woman he wanted before I trapped him the way I did."

Claire put her arms around her. "You didn't mean to trap him. Sometimes things just happen."

Tory rested her head on her younger sister's shoulder. Claire was growing up. She was a woman now. A wife. If felt good to have someone to talk to.

"I have to let him go, Claire. Cord deserves to be happy. He was never happy with me. He did everything he could to stay away from me." Tears welled again.

Tory cried against her sister's shoulder and felt Claire's slender body shaking.

Tory knew that her sister was crying, too.

Chapter Twenty-One.

It was late in the afternoon, a gray, cloudy day that hinted at the coming of a storm. The dismal weather exactly fit Tory's mood.

She sighed as she walked out of the drawing room, trying not to notice how empty the house felt without her husband's presence. She was headed for the entry when the sound of men's voices drifted toward her. For an instant, she thought it might be Cord and her heart took a leap.

Instead, Timmons spoke to Colonel Pendleton, who stood stiffly in front of him. The colonel turned at her approach and his face looked grim.

"Lady Brant." He made a polite bow, the light of the chandelier reflecting off his silver hair and the gold epaulettes on his shoulders. "I apologize for the intrusion, my lady. I come in search of your husband."

Her insides painfully twisted. In the weeks ahead, how many more times would she face such a moment?

"I'm sorry, Colonel. At present, my husband is not at home."

"Do you know where I might find him? I bring urgent information regarding Captain Sharpe."

She shook her head, not having the slightest idea where her husband might be. Or with whom.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. You might look for him at the home of his friend the duke or perhaps he is at White's, his gentlemen's club. You may certainly leave word for him here." Not that he was likely to get it, since she had no idea when or if he might return.

"Thank you. I would appreciate if you would tell him the news is urgent. Ask him to get in touch with me as soon as he possibly can,"

"Of course. Is there anything else I can do?"

"I'm afraid not, my lady. Except, perhaps, to remember the captain in your prayers." Turning, the colonel strode out of the house, leaving Tory to worry what terrible things might be happening to Cord's cousin.

It was evening, a light drizzle dampening the ground outside the house, when she heard Timmons speaking to another man. She recognized her husband's deep baritone and her heart leaped, his familiar masculine drawl filling her with longing.

She stood frozen in the hall, drinking in the sight of his tall, athletic frame and beloved features, aching to feel his arms around her.

Then she remembered the colonel's urgent news and forced her feet to move along the pa.s.sage. Cord started up the stairs, his foot pausing on a step near the bottom when he saw her.

"Good evening, my lord."

"I won't be here long. I only stopped by to pack a few things. I'm leaving for the country in the morning." He started climbing again.

"Colonel Pendleton was here," she said hastily. "He is looking for you. He has urgent news of your cousin."

Cord turned and came back down the stairs. "Did he tell you what the news might be?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I think he wanted to impart the information himself."

The muscles across his shoulders subtly tightened.

"I don't think Captain Sharpe is dead," she told him, reading his thoughts. "I think it was something else."

"I pray you are right." He turned toward the door, and she had never wanted anything so much as to go with him.

Cord lifted the latch and started out, but stopped abruptly as he spotted Rafe and the colonel striding up the walk. Stepping back, Cord waited as they moved past him into the entry.

"Thank G.o.d you're here," Rafe said.

"I've been trying to find you," the colonel explained. "I stopped by to see His Grace in the hope he might know where you were. He had only just left you at the club. He said that he thought that you were on your way here."

"Ethan's in trouble," Rafe said, cutting to the point. "We haven't got much time."

"What's happened?"

Colonel Pendleton answered. "I'm afraid the captain is scheduled to be executed the day after the morrow."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

"Word from Bradley should have arrived two days ago, but a storm blew up and the ship was delayed. The note just got here this afternoon."

"We'll have to sail tonight," Rafe said. "Fortunately, the Nightingale is in port. We swung by the docks on our way over here. The good news is Ethan's been returned to the prison in Calais. If we can get him out, he won't have far to go to reach the ship."

"That is good news. He may not be in shape to make too long a journey."

"We'll take the surgeon along, just in case," Rafe said. "He came in handy the last time."

The men continued speaking, their conversation so urgent they seemed to have forgot that Tory was there.

"I'm afraid there's another problem," the colonel said. "In his former efforts, Max Bradley always had a plan. The decision to execute the captain came up so quickly we have no choice but to make the attempt without the usual preparations. He says he is going to need help. A couple of men and someone who can provide a diversion."

"A diversion," Cord repeated. "What the devil kind of diversion?"

"Someone to distract the guards so that Bradley and the men can get inside the prison."

"Perhaps we can find a woman," Rafe suggested. "Nothing diverts a man's interest like a pretty bit of muslin."

"She would have to speak French and be someone we could trust," Pendleton added.

"There isn't time to find someone like that," Cord said. "We'll have to think of something once we're aboard the ship."

"I could do it." Heart pounding, Tory stepped out of the shadows, drawing startled looks from the men.

Cord scowled in her direction, obviously unhappy to find her still there. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It isn't the least ridiculous. I speak flawless French. I could dress as a young woman in from the country, a lady who wishes to inquire of...of her brother, perhaps. She is desperate. She pleads with the guards to let her inside the prison or at least provide some information as to his welfare."

"What if they agree to let you in?" Rafe asked, eyeing her with speculation.

"Then I shall have to stall them until one of you can come to my rescue."

"No," Cord said flatly. "I'm not about to put you in that sort of danger. Not even for Ethan."

"Please, Cord, I can do this. I want to help."

"I said no and that is the end of it."

Tory gently touched his arm. "You don't have time to find someone else, Cord." She wanted to do this, to give him the one thing he truly wanted. "So much has happened these past few weeks. Give me this chance to make things right."

He started to shake his head, but Rafe clamped a hand on his shoulder. "We need her, Cord. One of us will keep an eye on her. If anything goes wrong, we'll get her out of there in a hurry and back aboard the ship."

A muscle ticked in Cord's cheek.

"It's Ethan's life," she reminded him softly. "It's worth the risk."

It was clear he didn't want her along, but finally he nodded. "All right, she can come, but I stay close enough to make sure she doesn't get hurt and that she gets back safely."

"Done," Rafe said.

The colonel offered the use of a couple more men, but Cord declined. This was Ethan's last chance. Too many men might be worse than too few, and Cord and Rafe believed they could handle the job better themselves.

"At least you'll have Bradley along. He knows every nook and cranny of that prison. He spent nearly a year there before he was able to escape."

And he had risked himself again in his efforts to save Ethan. It said a good deal about Max Bradley's character.

"Well, that's it, then," Pendleton said once everything was settled. While Cord went to change and collect the gear he needed, Tory ran up to her room and began to dig through her trunks, looking for the worn, dove-gray gown she had been wearing the day she had come to the earl of Brant's town house.

Emma hurried in to help her. "Be sure to take your cloak," the maid reminded her, stuffing the clothes into a tapestry satchel along with a pair of brown leather shoes. Tory took the satchel and her cloak and started for the stairs.

In minutes, they were ready to leave. In the carriage on the way to the docks, the men reviewed the information Max Bradley had sent in his message and began to formulate plans. When they arrived at the ship's berth, they found the Nightingale fully crewed, ready and waiting to sail.

Cord led Tory across the deck, down the ladder to the cabin they had shared the time she had stolen aboard the ship, and memories washed over her.

He had made love to her here in this cabin. He had claimed her innocence-and her heart. She would never forget the tenderness he had shown her, or the pleasure.

She had never thought to marry him, never thought to fall so completely in love with him.

Never known how badly it would hurt to lose him.

"I can stay in the cabin next door," Cord said. "Or if you are worried what the crew might think, I can stay in here and sleep on the floor."

She swallowed. Once they returned, he would leave her. She should distance herself, protect her heart from more pain. But she wanted this time with him, wanted these last few precious hours.

"I would rather you stayed in here."

For an instant, Cord's tawny gaze searched her face. Then he simply nodded. "Very well."

Brushing past her, he tossed his satchel onto the berth, turned and strode out the door. He was dressed as he had been before, in snug brown breeches, knee-high boots and a full-sleeved white lawn shirt.

He paused for a moment in the doorway. "I'll give you some time to get settled, then come back and take you down to the galley. We'll need to go over what will happen when we get to the prison."

Tory nodded. But she was more concerned with what would happen when Cord returned to the tiny cabin they would share for the hours that lay ahead.

Cord gripped the starboard rail, letting the cold night wind wash over him. The last thing he needed was another torturous night in company with his wife. He didn't want to hear her soft breathing as she slept, didn't want to watch the rise and fall of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, or remember the silkiness of her skin as he had taken the rose-tinted crest into his mouth.

His body hardened with desire just to think of the night ahead, and he knew the throbbing ache would not leave him.

Still, part of him craved her nearness, felt almost sick with need of her. Cord tried to imagine Victoria with Fox, but the image would not form and his desire for her remained. He wanted her. Worse yet, he loved her.

His fingers tightened around the rail. He needed to think of Ethan, not Victoria. His cousin's life was at stake and Cord vowed he would not let the b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned French take it without a fight.

Once the ship was under way and the three of them were settled, Cord returned to his cabin to escort Victoria down to the galley. Their meeting took several hours, but the plan they developed seemed a good one. According to Bradley's information, there were only two guards at the front gate of the prison, though a number of others prowled the corridors in front of the cells.

If Victoria could succeed in drawing the guards' attention, then he, Rafe and Bradley could get inside. Once they were there, they would post a guard to give them cover. There was a good chance they could get Ethan out without raising the alarm.

Confident each understood their roles, Rafe and Victoria had retired to their cabins. Cord had stayed on deck, dreading the moment he would have to be alone with her. But the night was slipping away and he needed to get some rest. Perhaps the cold floor would numb his l.u.s.t enough he could manage a couple of hours of sleep.

Cord sighed as he turned from the rail and started toward the ladder leading down to his cabin.

Tory couldn't sleep. With every creak and groan of the ship, her eyes flashed to the door in search of Cord. Where was he? Why hadn't he come down to the cabin?

Their meeting in the galley had ended sometime earlier. The ship was quiet now, except for the heavy spray of the ocean against the hull, the shrill of the wind, and the clatter and clang of the rigging.

The seas were getting rougher. The Nightingale plunged into one trough after another, then battled its way up the opposite side. But the captain remained optimistic that the storm would not worsen. He kept the ship under sail and driving toward their destination- the inlet off the coast of France just south of Calais that they had used before.

Tory stared up at the ceiling above her berth, thinking of Cord, her heartbeat increasing at the sound of the cabin door creaking open. In the low-burning light of a ship's lantern swinging in the pa.s.sage, she caught a glimpse of her husband's beloved face as he stepped inside and closed the door.

She heard the rustle of fabric, then the sound of his knee-high boots. .h.i.tting the floor. He swore at the noise, magnified in the confines of the cabin.

"It's all right," she said. "I wasn't asleep."