placed his hands intimately on her shoulders.
“Perhaps this will seal our meeting,” he whispered, and brought his mouth down to meet hers. She twisted her head sharply, but his lips, wet and pressing, touched her cheek.
“Please, Monsieur le Comte,” she managed with more composure than she dreamed possible, “don’t be so silly. I’ll excuse your action this time, because of the moon’s fullness, but I hope, if we should ever meet again, you will act more like a gentleman.”
She turned and fled, only stopping for breath when she had reached Sir Nicholas’s cabin. Giving no more than a perfunctory knock, she entered. Such was her state of agitation that she gave no thought to the impropriety of entering a gentleman’s room. He was seated at a small table bolted to the floor by the porthole, peering intently at some papers. He looked up at that moment and hurriedly pulled the papers together, failing to notice one sheet flutter to the floor. She watched it float slowly down and in that moment decided against repeating the comte’s allegations. She would consult with her uncle, Lord Bromley, first, for how could she be certain what Sir Nicholas was really up to? His behavior was odd, to say the least, and if the comte was to be believed, he was not a man to be trusted.
“Good evening, Miss Rushforth,” Sir Nicholas said, smiling at her lazily. “Do you make a habit of entering a man’s room unchaperoned?”
She waited for the pounding of her heart to subside before nodding. “It’s a habit I picked up from you, Papa,” she responded lightly. “I have come to inform you that the comte is on board. I have just left him on the top deck.”
“Indeed,” was the noncommittal reply. “Does Mrs. Ashley know you went for a walk alone?”
“I’m no longer a young girl who needs to ask permission to go for a walk,” she said with considerable irritation. “Had I known how you would react, I wouldn’t have bothered to come and warn you.”
“As it happens, Miss Rushforth, I’m aware of his presence. I saw him come on board. He was the late arrival.” The maddeningly calm way in which he spoke caused Roberta to mutter angrily that he couldn’t possibly have recognized the comte under the heavy cloak he had worn.
“Oh! But it was the cloak that I identified. The comte is the only person I know who would sport something so vulgar.”
“Yet you don’t seem in the least bit agitated,” Roberta ventured, trying hard to match his casual attitude. “I would have thought that, knowing of his presence, you would have taken the precaution of locking your door.”
“There, I grant you, I made a mistake. However, as no harm has come because of my thoughtlessness, there is little to worry about.” He stood up and clumsily collected the papers, which he then thrust inside his jacket. “I think I will retire now, Miss Rushforth, and try to get some sleep before we land.”
“Of course, Sir Nicholas,” Roberta replied, eyeing the single sheet of paper still on the floor. It lay no more than a few feet from her. “Perhaps you should check your porthole first, though, and make certain it is secure.” He nodded his agreement, and as soon as he turned his back, she retrieved the paper and quickly hid it in the folds of her dress. “Good night,” she said, and before he had a chance to respond, she departed.
Once in the privacy of her own cabin, she pulled the paper out and smoothed it with trembling fingers. She studied it carefully, but it made no sense to her. It appeared to be a list, written in fine copperplate, but the letters were a jumble and formed no recognizable words.
“It must be in code,” she breathed, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Oh, Sir Nicholas, what a careless man you are!”
She sat down at a table similar to the one in Sir Nicholas’s cabin and searched the drawer for writing implements. Dipping the pen into the ink, she slowly copied the letters onto a fresh sheet of
“Perhaps this will seal our meeting,” he whispered, and brought his mouth down to meet hers. She twisted her head sharply, but his lips, wet and pressing, touched her cheek.
“Please, Monsieur le Comte,” she managed with more composure than she dreamed possible, “don’t be so silly. I’ll excuse your action this time, because of the moon’s fullness, but I hope, if we should ever meet again, you will act more like a gentleman.”
She turned and fled, only stopping for breath when she had reached Sir Nicholas’s cabin. Giving no more than a perfunctory knock, she entered. Such was her state of agitation that she gave no thought to the impropriety of entering a gentleman’s room. He was seated at a small table bolted to the floor by the porthole, peering intently at some papers. He looked up at that moment and hurriedly pulled the papers together, failing to notice one sheet flutter to the floor. She watched it float slowly down and in that moment decided against repeating the comte’s allegations. She would consult with her uncle, Lord Bromley, first, for how could she be certain what Sir Nicholas was really up to? His behavior was odd, to say the least, and if the comte was to be believed, he was not a man to be trusted.
“Good evening, Miss Rushforth,” Sir Nicholas said, smiling at her lazily. “Do you make a habit of entering a man’s room unchaperoned?”
She waited for the pounding of her heart to subside before nodding. “It’s a habit I picked up from you, Papa,” she responded lightly. “I have come to inform you that the comte is on board. I have just left him on the top deck.”
“Indeed,” was the noncommittal reply. “Does Mrs. Ashley know you went for a walk alone?”
“I’m no longer a young girl who needs to ask permission to go for a walk,” she said with considerable irritation. “Had I known how you would react, I wouldn’t have bothered to come and warn you.”
“As it happens, Miss Rushforth, I’m aware of his presence. I saw him come on board. He was the late arrival.” The maddeningly calm way in which he spoke caused Roberta to mutter angrily that he couldn’t possibly have recognized the comte under the heavy cloak he had worn.
“Oh! But it was the cloak that I identified. The comte is the only person I know who would sport something so vulgar.”
“Yet you don’t seem in the least bit agitated,” Roberta ventured, trying hard to match his casual attitude. “I would have thought that, knowing of his presence, you would have taken the precaution of locking your door.”
“There, I grant you, I made a mistake. However, as no harm has come because of my thoughtlessness, there is little to worry about.” He stood up and clumsily collected the papers, which he then thrust inside his jacket. “I think I will retire now, Miss Rushforth, and try to get some sleep before we land.”
“Of course, Sir Nicholas,” Roberta replied, eyeing the single sheet of paper still on the floor. It lay no more than a few feet from her. “Perhaps you should check your porthole first, though, and make certain it is secure.” He nodded his agreement, and as soon as he turned his back, she retrieved the paper and quickly hid it in the folds of her dress. “Good night,” she said, and before he had a chance to respond, she departed.
Once in the privacy of her own cabin, she pulled the paper out and smoothed it with trembling fingers. She studied it carefully, but it made no sense to her. It appeared to be a list, written in fine copperplate, but the letters were a jumble and formed no recognizable words.
“It must be in code,” she breathed, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Oh, Sir Nicholas, what a careless man you are!”
She sat down at a table similar to the one in Sir Nicholas’s cabin and searched the drawer for writing implements. Dipping the pen into the ink, she slowly copied the letters onto a fresh sheet of
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