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“Fine.” She strolled to the porthole on the other side of the cabin—all of three steps—and peered out. “I’m traveling to visit a relative. A distant cousin. My parents worried for her safety and asked if I could see what might be done to expedite her departure from Paris. She’s not a member of the nobility, but it seems anyone can be denounced these days. We fear that…Josette isn’t safe.”
Ramsey couldn’t see her face because she was still staring out the porthole, but he knew a lie when he heard one. He’d certainly told enough of them. He opened his mouth to tell her she was full of complete and utter rubbish, but a knock at the door stalled him.
Gabrielle whirled from the porthole, her face pale and her eyes wide.
“I take it you’re not expecting anyone,” Ramsey observed.
“No. I—“
“Miss Leboeuf,” a man on the other side of the door said. “It’s Captain Watson. May I have a moment of your time?”
Ramsey watched as she visibly relaxed, a bloom of color returning to her cheeks and her shoulders slumping with a sigh of relief. What had set her so on edge? Certainly it had nothing to do with visiting her cousin.
Gabrielle opened the cabin door, and the captain’s smile faded as soon as he saw Ramsey standing behind her. “Am I interrupting?” Watson’s voice was tense and high-pitched. He was a man of about forty, short and portly, but somewhat weathered, as was to be expected.
“Not at all,” Gabrielle said. “Mr….” She glanced at Ramsey, probably realizing she didn’t know the name he was traveling under. “Ah, the gentleman and I are old friends.”
“Might we speak in the passageway, Miss Leboeuf?” the captain suggested.
“Certainly.” She stepped into the passageway, leaving her door ajar. Ramsey could hear the captain speaking, something about dining with him.
Ramsey almost rolled his eyes. So the captain had fallen under Lady McCullough’s spell too. If her late husband—handsome almost to the point of prettiness—was any indication, the captain would be disappointed. Gabrielle’s tastes did not run to short, fat, and red-faced men.
Resigned to waiting out her polite rejection, Ramsey sprawled on her berth, dislodging her knapsack as he did so. He had a moment to wonder why she had not brought a valise, when he saw the envelope with the red seal.
He glanced at the door, saw her back was still to the cabin as she listened and nodded politely to Captain Watson, and Ramsey slid the envelope onto the bed’s thin blanket.
The envelope was thick and creamy, the seal broken. But even so, he could make out the small flower. He had grown up in the country and was quite familiar with flowers. This was a pimpernel. Was it a coincidence the wax was scarlet?
His heart thudded in his chest, and he risked another glance at the door. She was saying something now, undoubtedly refusing the captain’s advances. Ramsey opened the paper and read the first line.
Burn this after reading…
He glanced at the door, saw Gabrielle angling to look back inside, and shoved the paper inside her knapsack. Putting his hands behind his back, he endeavored to look bored. Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder and he raised a brow at her. She frowned at him before being obliged to turn her attention back to the captain.
Ramsey thanked God the man would not stubble it. He needed a moment to compose himself. His thoughts were racing. The missive was intriguing, and it had nothing to do with any cousin Josette. Had it been sent from the Scarlet Pimpernel? He would certainly want any in his League to burn his communications. And if this was an epistle from the Scarlet Pimpernel, whyhadn’tshe burned the pages?
If he’d had a moment more, he could have read the entire letter and put all his questions to rest. He had to find the Pimpernel, but devil take it if he wanted Gabrielle involved and in danger. Until he knew for certain whether or not Gabrielle could lead him to the Pimpernel, he would have to stick close to her.
Not that he would have allowed her to fend for herself.
Unfortunately, his motives had become somewhat less honorable, and he hated himself for that.
Gabrielle was apparently full of surprises. She might be exactly the key he needed to gain entrance to the Pimpernel and his League. And didn’t his stomach roil at the thought of using her thus?
Finally, she turned from the captain and stepped into her cabin. Her eyes went immediately to the knapsack, and if there had been any doubt in Ramsey’s mind before that the communiqué was important, it was gone now.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her gaze raking over him as he lounged casually on her berth.
“What would you like me to be doing?” He couldn’t give her any reason to suspect he’d seen the missive. The best way to do that was to distract her. He raised a finger, crooked it. “Come here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I think you had better leave.”
“I don’t think so,” he murmured, rising slowly. “You invited—no, I believe you actually dragged me into your cabin. You want me here.”
“Yes, to tell you I don’t want to see you again.”
She was lying again. He’d only been playing on their mutual attraction to divert her, but he’d inadvertently hit upon something real. She did want him here. She didn’t want him to leave. The hair on the back on his neck prickled, and his chest felt tight. He could almost smell the oranges as he had that night in Exeter’s greenhouse.
