Page 100 of Miss Delancey’s Tragicomedy

Remorse swept through him, followed by a renewed flash of anger. Her heartache surely couldn’t match his. She had blindly accepted that he’d stolen Lady Elizabeth away with the express intention of ruining her! As some twisted form of revenge. How could Miss Delancey equate a few kisses, kisses shared with a willing participant, with that?

He raised his head, noticing the air had changed. It wasn’t just the sea he smelled, but rotting fish and burning coal. He slowed as the road narrowed, and houses crowded in on either side.

“We’re nearly there, Will,” he called behind him. “Are you holding up?”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

“Good fellow. You’ll be a coachman in no time.”

There was the train station. Lit by gas lamps, it had an eerie appearance, nearly deserted at this time of night. He didn’t see March about, or any of his Lannington tenants, so he headed for the wharf.

Several ships were lined up in the harbor, and several more waited out in the sea, if he was interpreting blotchy shadows and flickering lights correctly. Widely spaced gaslights lit the port dimly. Ropes were stretched across the pilings, hung here and there with cork lifebuoys. The water looked dark and murky, clogged with debris. A few merchant marines haunted the place, solitary, stationary. It didn’t appear they were working, but the rare ladybirds strolling about certainly were. Trentham kept his team to a slow walk as he scouted the vicinity. The place stank worse than the London stews. And there was March, who might have been invisible dressed all in black, except that he stood under a gaslight, waving his hat.

Trentham pulled up alongside, jumped down from his curricle, and gave the reins and whip to Will. “March! You’ve seen them? Where are they?”

“Aboard, Your Grace. Just now.” He held his hat in his hands. “They’ve given us quite a runabout.”

“Us?”

“Gregory. Walter. Potts. And Mrs. March.”

“All hands on deck?” Trentham allowed himself a smile, even though he wished there had been a way for them to have prevented the couple from boarding without causing a scene. It might be difficult to extract them. “What did I miss?”

“I followed them from the train station. Me and Walter. I sent Mrs. March and Gregory to the inn, just in case we lost them and they went there. Potts stayed with the trains. Your two lovers came here first and went aboard with their bags.”

“First?”

“Yes. I told Walter to go up after a bit to see what was what. The steward stopped him at the top of the gangway since he hadn’t bought passage. Walt said he could see a few travelers of the rougher sort sleeping on deck. But he didn’t see the lord and lady.”

They wouldn’t have slept on deck. Even for the short journey to Le Havre in the morning, if Lord Hayworth had any sense, they would have taken a cabin.

“But would Walter have recognized them? And you’re sure you did?”

“Your telegram was very specific.”

It hadn’t been his. Nor, apparently, could it have been Lynch’s. Which left Eli, who, so far as Trentham knew, had never seen either of them. He sighed—Eli was cleverer, busier, than he gave him credit for being.

“But you said they just boarded?”

“They went aboard earlier, then came back out.” March scratched his head. “I left Walter here and followed them. Only caught some of their words, but they were upset.” He smirked. “Seems the lady expected dinner. Lord Hayworth was trying to tell her it would be better to wait until they were in France, in case she got seasick, but she was having none of it.”

Trentham snorted. Hayworth likely spoke from experience.

“They went to the Crawley Arms, best accommodations in town. Mrs. March and Gregory were there, outside.” March looked a bit smug for having guessed correctly where to send his soldiers. Trentham had known he could count on the man. “I gave Mrs. March the nod, and she and Gregory followed them in. Managed to get a table in the dining hall close by the pair, but couldn’t hear much that made any sense.”

They were probably still babbling about Orchomenus.

“Mrs. March trailed them back out into the lobby.” March’s brow knitted. “Said she was afeared they would take a room, but they didn’t. And then we all followed them back here. They weren’t paying attention. Never looked back to see us.”

Trentham stared off down the road, trying to think. What should his next step be? Could he bully his way onto the ship and drag them off? Probably a bribe to the steward and a few merchant marines would work. Until he had a chance to talk with them, rationally.

A shape in the distance began to resolve itself into a carriage. Lynch’s? It rumbled closer and slowed to a stop. Lynch and the Delancey sisters spilled out.

“There they are!” March cried. “Your Grace, look!”

Trentham swung about to look up the gangway, a long, inclined plank with sturdy rope railings. Hustling down it were Hayworth and Lady Elizabeth. He was carrying two bulky valises. She had her hands over her face. Was she crying? But they must have seen him at the bottom of the ramp because they halted abruptly. Needing to catch them before they turned back and lost themselves in the bowels of the ship, he broke into a run.

“Wait!” he called out.