The Wolf's Promise

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She weighed the letter in her hand, remembering her earlier doubts about Benoît. She found it almost inconceivable that he might be intending to betray Harry to the French—what good would it do him? The information that Harry wanted to escape was hardly going to be news to his captors. But she did wish he had given her firmer assurance about what he meant to do.

She looked up and found that he was watching her, a half-smile, and perhaps a question, in his eyes.

‘You were right, sir,’ she said slowly, ‘it was a very tiring journey yesterday. It’s lucky the storm didn’t break earlier in the day. We had enough trouble jolting over the ruts and boggy places in the road as it was.’

She went over to the front window, looking out at the driveway and the bobbing, yellow daffodils. There were one or two shallow puddles on the ground, reflecting the blue sky above.

‘I confess, I am a little daunted at the prospect of setting out again so soon,’ she said hesitantly, as if reluctant to admit a weakness.

‘Come now, Lady Angelica,’ Benoît said bracingly. ‘This doesn’t sound like you. What happened to being “equal to your responsibilities”? I’m sure you won’t let a little discomfort stand in the way of your duty. Besides, the Earl’s carriage is very well upholstered.’

Angelica bit her lip. She disliked intensely the role she had created for herself, but she couldn’t think of any better excuse to stay at Holly House another day.

‘I’m sure the journey to London must seem infinitesimal to a man who has sailed halfway round the world,’ she said grittily, ‘but to me it is not so. I do not enjoy having to admit such foolish sensibility to a stranger, but the prospect of climbing into the coach again this morning fills me with horror.’

‘Now that I can believe,’ Benoît said appreciatively. ‘It’s always best, when telling lies, to stick as close to the truth as possible.’

Angelica swung round indignantly, sparks in her blue eyes.

‘Were you planning to challenge me?’ he asked softly, before she could speak. ‘I warn you, my lady, I will pick up the gage.’

He was standing beside the desk with the still vigour which characterised him, simultaneously relaxed yet alert. There was an intelligent, amused understanding in his brown eyes which was very disconcerting.

Angelica hesitated, thinking better of what she’d been going to say. She knew she was on shaky ground. Her own nature would not allow her to play the part of a nervous, vapourish female, even if she wanted to do so; sooner or later she would betray herself.

‘Nevertheless, I would be grateful if you would allow me to intrude upon you another night,’ she said, as serenely as she could. ‘If the weather remains dry the roads will be in much better condition tomorrow. It will be easier for the horses.’

‘Of course, we must consider the horses,’ Benoît agreed smoothly, a gleam in his eye. ‘But how long will the Earl tolerate the absence of his daughter? I should hate to have Sir William come storming in here accusing me of kidnapping you. He might suspect me of trying to hold the Earl to ransom for your safe return.’

Angelica gasped. Not once, in all the time she since had decided to deliver her father’s letter herself, had that possibility occurred to her.

‘You wouldn’t!’ she exclaimed, caught between indignation and disbelief.

‘I might, under certain circumstances,’ Benoît said reflectively, startling her even further. He smiled at her expression. ‘No, my lady, you’re quite safe with me,’ he assured her. ‘But I think we might send a message to your father that you’re still here. He must be more aware than most of the possibility of accidents on the road.’

Angelica nodded, unable to argue with Benoît’s suggestion. For all his black moods, she knew the Earl was probably desperate with worry for her. It upset her that she was causing him so much distress. But it was an unbelievable relief to have escaped briefly from the dark, gloom-enshrouded house in Berkeley Square. One more day could not hurt.

‘I’ll tell my mother you are staying while you write a note to the Earl,’ said Benoît briskly. ‘Feel free to use the desk. We’ll send him my letter at the same time.’

‘Oh…’ Angelica wanted to protest, but she couldn’t think of an unexceptional way to resist his eminently reasonable suggestion.

‘You will have to curb your curiosity in that respect a while longer,’ said Benoît, with dry amusement, removing it neatly from between her fingers. ‘Excuse me, my lady.’

He went out, leaving Angelica alone. She looked around, her eyes drawn once more to the brilliant painting over the fireplace. She was staying for Harry’s sake, she told herself. There was a great deal about Benoît Faulkener that still needed investigation before she could finally trust her brother’s life to him.