Read Online TW03 The Pimpernel Plot NEW by Simon Hawke - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simon Hawke
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quickly, Delaney blew out the candle so that she would not see what he was unable to conceal, then he made a quick grab for the nightgown. He barely stifled a moan of frustration.
“Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to wake you,” he said, adding an audible yawn. “Lord, it’s a wonder you’re not sleeping like the dead after today’s exertions. Myself, I am quite done in. It was all that I could do to make it up the stairs.” He heard a heavy sigh in the darkness. “Come to bed and sleep, then,” Marguerite said, flatly. “You wanted to leave early in the morning and you need your rest.” Finn bit his lower lip and felt his way to the bed, then got in beside her and turned on his left side, so that he faced away from her. He yawned once more, for effect.
“Gad, what a day!” he said. “I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”
There was no good night, from her side of the bed.
“Well, good night, then,” Finn said. He waited a few minutes, then faked the sounds of snoring. Several minutes later, he heard Marguerite get out of bed and slip into her nightgown, then gently get back into bed. Soon, she was asleep.
Finn, on the other hand, knew that he would be lucky if he got any sleep at all. And he knew that in the morning, he would hate himself.
Chapter 3
They arrived at Calais the following evening, having stopped several times to change horses en route. It had been a long, hard drive. Finn was sore and covered with road dust. Marguerite had been shaken up inside the coach, but she issued not one word of complaint. They drove directly to the port and as he looked out into the bay, Finn could see a graceful fifty-foot schooner with a long and slender bowsprit riding at anchor, its twin masts barely visible in the dusk. They left the coach at an inn and hired a small boat to take them out to the Day Dream.
It was brisk out on the water and Marguerite shivered in her inadequate cloak as she clutched it around her, but she didn’t say a word. Finn had to admire her. She had been shot in the head, had some minor field surgery performed on her, though she didn’t know it, been drugged, bounced around inside a coach on bumpy, rut-filled country roads for some one hundred and fifty miles, which they had covered in an astonishing two days, exhausting several teams of horses in the process, and now she was being violently rocked up and down as the small boat pulled out toward the Day Dream in the choppy waters of the Channel. The cold wind sliced through her fashionably light hooded cloak as though it wasn’t even there and, with the exception of a slight shaking of the shoulders and a barely noticeable tremor of the lower lip, Marguerite remained calm and poised, as though she were out for a row upon a placid country lake.
The boat pulled up to the yacht and one of the crewmen dropped a rope ladder over the side. As the boatman hung onto the bottom of the ladder, trying to keep the rowboat steady in the swells, Finn helped Marguerite up the ladder, staying close behind her and holding on tight in case she should lose her grip and fall. She climbed a bit uncertainly, unaccustomed to having the world rolling all round her, but she hung on tenaciously and in moments, a crewman was giving her a hand on board. She thanked the young man, who smiled awkwardly in her presence, and turned back to look at Finn with a slightly shaky smile.
“Which way to my room, Percy? Oh, yes, it’s called a cabin on a boat, is it not?”
“Allow me, my lady,” said a tall, sandy-haired young man of about twenty-six or seven, who came up to them and offered her his arm. He flashed a dazzling smile at her. “Lord Antony Dewhurst, at your service, ma’am. You must be terribly fatigued after your journey. I’ve taken the liberty of having your cabin prepared and your bunk turned down. There’s fresh water for washing and Stevens here will bring you supper and a rum toddy momentarily. I think that you will find the
“Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to wake you,” he said, adding an audible yawn. “Lord, it’s a wonder you’re not sleeping like the dead after today’s exertions. Myself, I am quite done in. It was all that I could do to make it up the stairs.” He heard a heavy sigh in the darkness. “Come to bed and sleep, then,” Marguerite said, flatly. “You wanted to leave early in the morning and you need your rest.” Finn bit his lower lip and felt his way to the bed, then got in beside her and turned on his left side, so that he faced away from her. He yawned once more, for effect.
“Gad, what a day!” he said. “I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”
There was no good night, from her side of the bed.
“Well, good night, then,” Finn said. He waited a few minutes, then faked the sounds of snoring. Several minutes later, he heard Marguerite get out of bed and slip into her nightgown, then gently get back into bed. Soon, she was asleep.
Finn, on the other hand, knew that he would be lucky if he got any sleep at all. And he knew that in the morning, he would hate himself.
Chapter 3
They arrived at Calais the following evening, having stopped several times to change horses en route. It had been a long, hard drive. Finn was sore and covered with road dust. Marguerite had been shaken up inside the coach, but she issued not one word of complaint. They drove directly to the port and as he looked out into the bay, Finn could see a graceful fifty-foot schooner with a long and slender bowsprit riding at anchor, its twin masts barely visible in the dusk. They left the coach at an inn and hired a small boat to take them out to the Day Dream.
It was brisk out on the water and Marguerite shivered in her inadequate cloak as she clutched it around her, but she didn’t say a word. Finn had to admire her. She had been shot in the head, had some minor field surgery performed on her, though she didn’t know it, been drugged, bounced around inside a coach on bumpy, rut-filled country roads for some one hundred and fifty miles, which they had covered in an astonishing two days, exhausting several teams of horses in the process, and now she was being violently rocked up and down as the small boat pulled out toward the Day Dream in the choppy waters of the Channel. The cold wind sliced through her fashionably light hooded cloak as though it wasn’t even there and, with the exception of a slight shaking of the shoulders and a barely noticeable tremor of the lower lip, Marguerite remained calm and poised, as though she were out for a row upon a placid country lake.
The boat pulled up to the yacht and one of the crewmen dropped a rope ladder over the side. As the boatman hung onto the bottom of the ladder, trying to keep the rowboat steady in the swells, Finn helped Marguerite up the ladder, staying close behind her and holding on tight in case she should lose her grip and fall. She climbed a bit uncertainly, unaccustomed to having the world rolling all round her, but she hung on tenaciously and in moments, a crewman was giving her a hand on board. She thanked the young man, who smiled awkwardly in her presence, and turned back to look at Finn with a slightly shaky smile.
“Which way to my room, Percy? Oh, yes, it’s called a cabin on a boat, is it not?”
“Allow me, my lady,” said a tall, sandy-haired young man of about twenty-six or seven, who came up to them and offered her his arm. He flashed a dazzling smile at her. “Lord Antony Dewhurst, at your service, ma’am. You must be terribly fatigued after your journey. I’ve taken the liberty of having your cabin prepared and your bunk turned down. There’s fresh water for washing and Stevens here will bring you supper and a rum toddy momentarily. I think that you will find the
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