The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [105]
“If the marquess has died, then I shall repatriate his body to England,” Quin said firmly, guiding his mother down the corridor toward the drawing room. “He is a war hero. It is the least any English citizen could do for him.”
“Why must it be you?” the dowager cried, the words bursting from her mouth in an uncharacteristically urgent—not to say emotional—manner. “We could appeal to the Navy! His Majesty would send a force. Or we could hire Bow Street Runners. From what I hear, they could take on a French battalion without any effort.”
“His Majesty cannot risk the impression that a British force is attacking the shores of France, and the Royal Navy would face the same problem. But these are academic issues; there is no time to lose. I am beholden to Montsurrey. I shall do this myself.”
“You most certainly are not beholden to Montsurrey! Did you not tell me that you’d never met him?”
They had reached the entry, and Quin stopped. “Mother, you know why I am beholden to the marquess. And you also know precisely why I would never allow Olivia—”
“Miss Lytton!”
He said steadily, “You understand why I would never allow Olivia to cross the Channel without me.”
She was so pale that her rouge stood out in patches on each cheek. “This rash, imprudent effort is foolhardy in the extreme. The French will shoot at first sight. And you haven’t even been on the water since your wife died!”
Quin’s hand curled into a fist. “It is true that I have not been across the Channel, but only because I have had no need to travel to the Continent.” Quin’s even tone concealed the pit in his chest that had yawned open at the mere idea of crossing the same stretch of water that had swallowed his son. A duke should never be prey to such emotion, and he ruthlessly pushed it away. “Evangeline’s death is irrelevant. Montsurrey needs me; Olivia needs me. And frankly, Mother, I could not face the Duke of Canterwick, should he recover his senses, knowing I had not made every effort to bring his son home.”
His mother swallowed hard. “Canterwick would not do the same for you.”
“As with Evangeline’s death, that is irrelevant. We will put to sea at Dover, and the voyage should be a mere four hours with a good wind. I expect to be home tomorrow. Smugglers do this every day, you know.”
“I am afraid of that water,” the dowager said, her voice tight as a violin string. “I almost lost you to it before.”
Quin nodded; they both knew there was more than one way to be lost.
He picked up his mother’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You raised me to be a duke, Mother. I would disgrace my own title if I allowed a man of my rank to die on a foreign shore through my own cowardice.”
“I wish I’d raised you to be a peasant,” his mother said, her voice low.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing with a low sweep that signaled his deep respect for his mother.
She raised her chin, and then slowly descended into a curtsy of her own. “I would prefer not to be proud of a son who is walking into clear danger,” she remarked. Her eyes were shining with tears.
“I will take your blessing with me,” Quin said, ignoring her words and answering the look in her eyes. That was something he was learning from Olivia. If he concentrated, he could tell what people were feeling, just from looking carefully at their eyes.
His mother turned and swept up the stairs, her shoulders rigid, her head high.
Twenty-six
The Dangers of Poetry under the Moon
It was almost three hours since they left the port at Dover in a vessel named the Day Dream, a schooner with a small cabin lying just above the surface of the water. Olivia stood at the porthole, watching black water fall restlessly behind their prow, as if it had somewhere to go.
“We’ll take the rowboat up an inlet, if I understand you,” Quin said from behind Olivia’s shoulder. He was pouring over a detailed map of the French coast with Sergeant Grooper, the soldier who had come to fetch them. Though to be exact, Grooper had come to fetch Rupert’s father.
Poor Canterwick. He still lay as if dead. Olivia had visited him before they set