Julian mumbled in his sleep and turned onto his back, his arms flung wide. Tamsyn resisted the urge to push aside the unruly lock of hair and press her lips to his broad brow. He slept like a soldier, she knew, and the slightest touch would waken him.
She crept out of the room, hurried down the stairs in the silent house, into the book room at the rear. She flung up the low window, scrambled over the sill, and dropped to the soft, damp earth beneath.
Gabriel was waiting in the mews, holding Cesar's reins. He greeted her with a nod. “All well, bairn?”
“All's well.” She sprang into the saddle. Five days should see 'them back at Tregarthan. Her confrontation with Cedric would take no more than an hour or two. The horses would need a day to rest. And then they would return, and she would concentrate all her forces on the bastion that was Colonel, Lord Julian St. Simon.
And if she failed to breach the walls, then she'd settle for what he could give her for as long as he was prepared to give it.
It was broad daylight when Julian awoke. He read the note in disbelief and growing anger. For hours she'd played the most elaborate game of seduction, showing him a side of herself he wouldn't have believed possible. But she was still a goddamned brigand! Why couldn't she be simple and straightforward? Why in the world would she slide out in the middle of the night to do something as simple as fetching her luggage and Josefa?
Uneasiness prickled his spine. Why would she? Not even Tamsyn thrived on unorthodox manoeuvres to the extent that she'd choose to leave like that without some good reason.
And he could think of only one reason: she didn't want him with her on the journey. She'd given him a night to remember, while deliberately planning to slip from his bed and be on her way while he was asleep. It made no sense at all that she would do something that devious when she was simply going back to Tregarthan to collect Josefa and her treasure.
Despite her denial, was she going back to try one last time to discover something about her mother's family? Had she perhaps found a clue that she wanted to follow up before finally leaving England?
From what he knew of Tamsyn, it made more sense that she would try to finish what she'd come there to do than that she would meekly give it up because he'd asked her to. Oh, he believed she intended to return to Spain with him. But she was going to do something first.
Damn the woman for an obstinate, devious hellion! And he couldn't go after her until he'd completed the formal arrangements for their passage from Portsmouth. If he was really persistent, prepared to hang around in corridors waiting for an audience, prepared to push ruthlessly through the obstructive layers of the bureaucracy, he could probably have the documents in his hand by the end of the day. But he couldn't then start his pursuit at night, so he would lose twenty-four hours.
Why was he so uneasy? He frowned, staring around the dishevelled room in anxious vexation. Even if she had some idea about the Penhallans, the worst that could happen was that she would face Cedric and he'd humiliate her with his scorn. What could possibly happen in twenty-four hours at Tregarthan? And she had Gabriel with her.
Chapter Twenty-four
“I WISH YOU WEREN'T GOING BACK TO SPAIN,” Lucy SAID disconsolately, sitting on the windowsill in Tamsyn's tower room. “I was really looking forward to sponsoring you for the Season.”
“It was a rather sudden decision,” Tamsyn said, buttoning her shirt, trying not to show her impatience.
“But what about your mother's family? Don't you want to find them anymore?”
“Your brother persuaded me that it wasn't really a good idea. They probably wouldn't know what to do with me if l did find them, and I probably wouldn't have anything in common with them, anyway.” Tamsyn tucked her shirt into the waist of her riding skirt and hooked it up, wishing that Lucy would cease this catechism and find something else to do. Gabriel had gone to Fowey for the afternoon. He'd offered no reason and she hadn't asked. If he'd gone after the twins, it was his business, just as her uncle was hers. His absence gave her the opportunity to ride to Lanjerrick and see her uncle, but Lucy was wasting precious time.
“Are you going back with Julian because you're his mistress?” Lucy spoke in a sudden rush, her cheeks flushed, her china-blue eyes unnaturally bright as she gazed intently at Tamsyn.
“Oh.” Tamsyn sat down on the dressing stool with a rueful grimace. “How did you discover that?” She picked up a riding boot and thrust her right foot into it.
“We heard you one evening,” Lucy said, her flush deepening. “And we… well, we saw you in the corridor. Julian was chasing you.”
Tamsyn grinned, remembering the occasion. “Why didn't you say something before?”
“I… we… we thought it would be indiscreet. Julian obviously didn't want anyone to know, because he's usually so cool with you, and… oh, dear, this is so embarrassing.” Lucy half laughed as she pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks.
“No, it's not,” Tamsyn said stoutly, pulling on her other boot. “But I don't think your brother would like to know that you know, so you will make sure Gareth doesn't bumble into a confession, won't you?” It explained Gareth's winks and innuendos and the sometimes calculating look she'd encountered. He was probably sizing up his chances of stepping into Julian's shoes should they become vacant, Tamsyn thought with an inner grimace.
“Of course Gareth wouldn't say anything,” Lucy declared a touch defensively. “He's not indiscreet.”
“No,” Tamsyn said, unconvinced. She could well imagine Gareth's approaching Julian with a hearty masculine laugh and a wink and the invitation to share the juicier aspects of his liaison. But she could as well imagine Julian's response, and if Gareth could imagine it, too, then he would hold his tongue.
“Well,” she said, “that is one reason why I'm going back to Spain.”
“Do you think you'll marry Julian?” Lucy was frowning now, nibbling her bottom lip.
Tamsyn swivelled on the stool to face the mirror as she tied the crisp linen stock at her neck. “Do you think I'd make him a good wife?” she countered lightly.
Lucy didn't immediately reply, and Tamsyn wished she hadn't asked. Then Lucy said, “If you love him, then of course you would. Do you?”
“Yes.” She turned back to the room. “But I doubt your brother thinks I would make an appropriate Lady St. Simon.”
“Well, you are rather… well, rather unlikely,” Lucy said slowly. “But I don't think that should make any difference.”
Tamsyn shrugged into her jacket. A full description of exactly how unlikely she was would require several hours of explanation that Lucy would find hard to credit. “Mistresses usually don't become wives,” she said casually. “Lucy, I have to run an important errand, so you must excuse me. I'll see you at dinner.” She went to the door and opened it invitingly.
“Where are you going?” Lucy, with obvious reluctance, prepared to leave the room. “Shall I accompany you?”
“No, because I intend to ride Cesar, and there isn't a horse in the stable that you can ride that would keep up with him.” Tamsyn smiled to soften the statement. Lucy was a dreadful horsewoman, and Tamsyn suddenly vividly remembered the moment outside Badajos when Cesar had shied and the colonel had grabbed her bridle. She'd been furious, and he'd explained that he was used to being on the watch when riding with his sister.
Lucy pulled a face but didn't argue further. “I'll see you later, then.”
“Yes.” Tamsyn waved from the door as the other woman trailed rather mournfully down the corridor to her own room.
Tamsyn closed the door with a sigh of relief and began to gather things together.
Copies of the documents Cecile had given her went into the pocket of her cloak; the locket was around her neck, as usual. The original documents were hidden in a jewel cask in the armoire. She thrust her pistol into the waistband of her skirt and strapped knives to each calf over her britches.