Page 60 of Tempting the Marquess

Chapter12

“How is your arm feeling,sir? Do your bandages need changing?”

It hurt like hell, and if one more person poured spirits on his flesh, his arm would melt into a puddle on the wooden floor of the swaying, creaking, barge.

William gritted his teeth and forced a smile at the deferential young aide. “It’s fine, thankyou.”

“That is good to hear. Captain says we’ll be docking in about a half hour or so. Crossing the Channel is the easy part. Navigating the Thames and getting to Wapping always takes a lot longer than anyone thinks. So crowded.”

He nodded. “That’s the truth.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then, sir. Just say if you need anything.”

Alone again, William peered out the round window of his tiny cabin. Thankfully it had been a smooth crossing from Calais; seasickness would have been one indignity too far. Especially as his gut was already churning at the thought of his impending role, and seeing the woman he may have misjudged completely. But he was back in England, at least. Even though he wouldn’t be living at Hastings House, White had apparently secured him decent accommodation at a hotel for prosperous merchants in Piccadilly, known for clean lodgings and hearty meals. So that was something.

Or perhaps he just wanted to get off this damned barge. The aide was correct about the speed at which they inched up the Thames. Even before nine o’clock in the morning, the waterway was frantically busy. On the docks groups of sailors laughed and joked as they headed into the first tavern they could find, while merchantmen barked orders and oversaw the unloading of precious cargo.

William made his way to the front of the barge, exchanging greetings with the sailors as they expertly uncoiled ropes and prepared for docking. When the gangplank was lowered, he paused to pull his borrowed cap lower and tattered greatcoat closer around him, to protect his wound sites. It was indeed fortunate he’d been hit in the left shoulder, so his usual dexterity with his right arm wasn’t affected. Then he took a few deep breaths of the rather rancid air. Who would have thought the sights, sounds, and smells of London awake and ready for action would be so damned welcome?

Hoisting his leather satchel over his good shoulder, he weaved his way through barrels of wine and large crates of food and clothing and swarms of men going about their daily tasks, until he reached the main thoroughfare. He needed to get to Whitehall. Immediately.

Putting two fingers in his mouth, he made to whistle for a hackney until a loud cough made himturn.

“Excuse me, Mr. Underwood, sir?”

William shook his head and almost pushed past the neatly dressed footman, then he froze.

“Who wants to know?” he asked quietly.

The footman gestured toward a lavish carriage where a rich merchant with thick whiskers, a quizzing glass, and thinning ginger hair leaned out the window and waggled his fingers.

His eyes narrowing, William stalked over to the carriage and climbed in. “Firstly, you look bloody ridiculous. Secondly, the only thing which has kept me going for the past six weeks has been the thought of beating you senseless. That quickly progressed to breaking all your toes. But when I started getting shot with real bullets on the beach at Calais, I decided nothing less than castration would do, you unspeakable bastard.”

White gave him an injured look as the carriage pulled away from the docks. “I thought I scrubbed up rather well as a wealthy merchant. But I do apologize for the inconvenience you suffered in France. That was unfortunate. Most unfortunate.”

“Inconvenience? I have two bullet holes in my shoulder! A certain Scottish tailor who dabbles in delicate matters informed me if I didn’t change the bandage regularly and douse it in the Highland’s finest, my arm would have to be CUTOFF.”

“Well, yes, Dougal is correct. Cleanliness is next to godliness...ooof!”

Leaning back against the soft velvet carriage squabs, William examined the stinging knuckles of his right hand. Even Gentleman Jackson might have been impressed with the speed and stealth of that particular blow. “I’ve also heard they, whoever they are, said something about violence not making anything better. But they are quite wrong. I feel remarkably cheeriernow.”

“Devil take it, Standish,” White snapped, scowling as he dabbed at the blood oozing from his nose with a crumpled linen handkerchief. “I’ll allow you that just this once, but if you ever even think about it again, I’ll saw your arm off myself. Now, perhaps we could get down to business?”

“By all means.”

“Excellent. In regards to your lodgings, they are prepared and ready for you to move in. Close enough to Sackville Street where the Claremonts are without being too obvious.”

“How is Lady Samantha?” William asked, unable to stop himself.

“In good health, as far as I know. It seems she took your, ah, accident rather badly.”

He smiled grimly. “Ohyes?”

“Indeed. She has remained mostly in seclusion, refusing to see all visitors apart from the Westleighs, although she has ventured out on several occasions to visit Southby. Not necessarily within the usual calling hours.”

“I introduced them, they are acquainted,” William snapped, his fists clenching as the Frenchman’s taunts sprung to mind. She is a fast learner who grows more skilled at her work by the day…Lady Samantha spreads her thighs for everyone.

“Of course. Next on my list of instructions, your new role. You’ll have a man by the name of Barclay to help you dress each day, he’ll also attend to your wig and makeup.”