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‘Ah, you have the clothes for a voyage, my friend.’
‘I brought these with me for comfort at sea on the journey here—I did not expect to find myself so close to the action.’ Some instinct led him to change the subject. Chance stared ahead, straining for a sight of white sails, but could see nothing but fishing boats. ‘The coasts are very close together up ahead.’ The looming bulk of Albania seemed almost to touch the island. The channel was a mile, if that, across.
‘Yes, indeed. It is most convenient.’
To Chance’s eye they seemed to be heading, not for the gap, but for the Albanian coast.
Within the hour he was proved right. Without orders from Zagrede the ship glided into a deep inlet, the mainsails came down and it was steered smoothly into a hidden harbour.
Cabins and workshops stretched along the dockside, other ships, all smaller than the one they were on, but all with the same lean, predatory lines, were tied alongside, the whole place was a bustle of activity.
‘One of my ports,’ the Count explained casually as they tied up.
‘But why are we stopping? Do you need to take on provisions?’
‘No, we need to change the ship, my friend. Now, we are traders no longer.’
Chance looked around again. There was nothing bigger, surely nothing faster. Men began to climb the rigging, the white sails were lashed up, then freed and lowered to the deck. In their place the seamen began to haul up a grey set. Along the sides men were hammering and freeing long planks of wood. Leaning over, Chance could see that, in effect, they were removing false sides. Revealed were the sinister black eyes of gun ports.
Zagrede snapped his fingers and a man began to haul up a flag. It snapped free and open in the wind and Chance looked up at a snarling silver wolf’s head on a black ground.
He stared at the Count in dawning comprehension. ‘You are a pirate. This is a pirate ship.’
‘But of course. my friend. Welcome aboard the Ghost.’
Alessa landed in an undignified, panting heap of sodden clothes and sprawled there on the deck, struggling to recover her breath. Gradually the shaking in her limbs subsided and she raised her head and stared around. Someone had thrown a cloak over her. Above, the sails snapped in the wind as the ship heeled to get on to course. She was at sea. They were sailing and the children were left behind on the island without the slightest idea what had happened to her.
She tried to stand and someone took her arm, steadying her. ‘Oh, poor Alexandra, are you all right now?’
Frances. ‘No, I am not all right.’ It was hard to speak without screaming in rage and frustration. With an effort Alessa kept her voice low and steady as she looked at her cousin’s pretty, anxious face. ‘I have been kidnapped and the children are still on Corfu.’
‘Oh, no, you have not been kidnapped. It is all for your own good. Mama warned me you would be upset at first,’ Frances said soothingly, as though speaking to someone simple-minded. ‘She said the children did not want to come and made themselves ill crying when she tried to persuade them.’
‘Your mother has said but a dozen words to them,’ Alessa retorted. ‘And none of them were to encourage them to come with us. Take me to the captain.’
‘No, dear.’ It was Lady Blackstone, smiling grimly, a neatly dressed man at her side. ‘You see, Dr Cobb, quite distracted, poor child. I have hopes of a recovery if we can get her to rest quietly. What the cause of the problem is, I have no idea—perhaps there was instability on her mother’s side. When we return to London I shall call in the leading specialists in hysterical maladies. No expense will be spared for my poor niece’
Alessa stared around her. They were well out of harbour now, too far to swim; in any case, there was no hope of that if they saw her jump. Resisting now would only get her confined under lock and key, perhaps even physically restrained, for her aunt appeared to have convinced the doctor that she was mentally unstable.
She put up a trembling hand to her face. ‘I don’t know what happened,’ she murmured. ‘Did I fall in? I want to lie down.’
‘Of course you do,’ the doctor said soothingly ‘Now, this nice man will carry you to your cabin.’ Alessa found herself scooped up by a seaman. ‘Miss Blackstone, would you accompany me? I am sure your cousin would want your support.’
Finally, undressed and washed by Frances, reluctantly assisted by Lady Blackstone’s bracket-faced maid, Alessa was tucked up in bed. The doctor reappeared to urge her to take a paregoric drink of his own invention and finally, mercifully, she was left in peace.
Who knew what had happened? Presumably Lady Trevick had been given some tale to convince her that all was well, or Aunt Honoria would be creating the very scandal she sought to avert. Kate and the children would have no idea what had occurred. When they became worried at not hearing, they would go to the Residency—and find she had left them without a word.
They would be so hurt. Alessa tried to imagine it, biting her lip to keep back the tears. Demetri would pretend to be brave, but inside he would feel betrayed, lost and bewildered. And little Dora, who had been abandoned once already—would she ever recover?
But they were with Kate, a
nd Kate would know something was wrong, that Alessa would never leave like that without a word. Kate would reassure them she had not gone willingly and she would look after them like a mother cat with kittens until Alessa managed to get back to them.
Who else knew? The memory swept back like a black cloud. Chance knew. Chance had handed over the note to Frances, who, looking back now, had obviously known all about the plan to sail. And as he had left he had looked at her so strangely, had said goodbye. He had known. He had lied to her, tricked her, after all he had promised. She had been betrayed by the man she loved. For respectability. For convention.
Alessa turned over, seized the pillow from behind her head and punched it with all her might. Right from the beginning Chance had supported her return to England and her family. He had found excuses for her aunt’s attitude and behaviour and had pressed on her the importance of conforming to English society.
She lay on the bunk, almost oblivious to the motion of the ship and the discomfort of her bruised, aching body. I am going to escape, I am going to get back here to the children, we will make our own way to England and cause my aunt the greatest possible embarrassment. And then I am going to make Benedict Casper Chancellor, Earl of Blakeney, wish he had never been born.
