Harlequin Historical November 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 Page 26

But it would be strange, a hot, tropical place far away from Europe, from everyone they knew. It would be quite intriguing, Mary thought, to have a new start. New friends. A place where no one knew her so very well.

  No one like Sebastian Barrett, that was, and he was the very first person she wanted to leave behind. Seeing him at the ball had been too flustering, too overwhelming, and she couldn’t afford this kind of distraction now.

  The carriage at last reached the docks, but they were caught in a web of all the other vehicles and could go no further. The coachman helped Mary down and, as soon as she stepped out of the carriage, she was consumed in wild noise.

  Piled up everywhere were crates stamped with the mark of the royal treasury and the royal library, hundreds of them. Tilted among them haphazardly were pieces of fine, carved furniture from the palaces, and jewelled crosses and plate from churches, all jumbled into boxes. Smaller trunks, cases of linen and provisions of food and wine waited to be loaded as well.

  All the carriages had churned deep ruts in the mud and now all was utter chaos. People were screaming, crying, clutching at their belongings. Mary strained up on her toes, but she could see nothing past the press of the crowd that surged around her, the listing stack of crates. She felt carried away by them on a wave of fear and excitement.

  She had to find her father, but she saw no familiar faces around her. Many of the ladies wore veils and were swathed in cloaks, but she couldn’t glimpse Teresa or any of her other friends. It was just an anonymous sea of humanity, surging around her, carrying her forward.

  She hoisted the box of important papers under one arm and grabbed Adriana’s hand with the other. ‘We must find the Hibernia,’ she shouted above the roar. That was where her father told her a berth would be waiting; surely if she could just make it aboard, he would rejoin her soon.

  But finding her way there seemed a Herculean task. Pulling Adriana with her, Mary pushed her way through the crowd, dodging elbows and snatching hands, ignoring the cacophony of Portuguese and Spanish around her.

  ‘But I have a pass!’ one man sobbed, holding up a crumpled, stained paper. He was obviously a court official, with his satin breeches and powdered wig, but he was splashed with mud, like everything around him, and his fine coat was ripped. ‘Prince Joao himself promised me a place.’

  A soldier pushed him back and Mary slipped past them. The emotion in the heavy, rain-soaked air was so palpable she could almost taste it, sour and metallic at the back of her throat. Frantic fear, desperation, excitement. Children wailed in their nurses’ arms, families shouted each other’s names. She tried to find her friend Teresa, but couldn’t see her anywhere.

  Mary swallowed hard to get rid of the fear and pressed onward. Wailing herself would do no good. At last she reached the quay, where rows of skiffs waited to ferry passengers out to the waiting ships. The press of the crowds fell behind her as she tumbled on to the wooden walkway and she faced a most astonishing sight.

  Ships as far as she could see, bobbing in the choppy grey waters. Massive, implacable and seemingly so far away. She saw the Portuguese royal flag flying on a few of them, the ships of the line that waited for Dom Joao and his family, and the British colours of their escort. There were many smaller vessels, too, even fishing boats that surely couldn’t hope to cross the Atlantic. But everyone was desperate to be gone today, any way they could.

  She scanned the galleys and skiffs that were being boarded to row out to the ships, so heavily loaded they rode low in the freezing water, yet she still couldn’t see her father. Further down the quay she glimpsed Nicholas Warren from the English delegation, waiting to step into one of the boats.

  ‘Mr Warren!’ she shouted in a most unladylike fashion. By some miracle, her words carried above the frantic noise and he turned to wave at her.

  ‘Follow me, Adriana,’ she cried, but their path was suddenly blocked by a flock of black-coated officials, all shouting and pushing. She couldn’t shove her way through by more than a few inches. She glimpsed the boats rowing out over the water, away from her, and she was trapped in stillness, like in a nightmare.

  ‘Let me help you, Miss Manning,’ a deep voice said behind her.

  Mary whirled around and was pushed by the pressing crowd into the shelter of a tall, strong body. She knew immediately whose arms closed around her, for surely no one else smelled like that, of a citrus soap and starched linen, even in the midst of mud-splashed chaos. No one else felt like that, of safety and strength. But she knew that safety was just an illusion, for it was Sebastian Barrett who held her.

  She wanted to run away, to push him back, to protect herself as she had not been able to in London. But she also wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on tightly to his strength.

  ‘I...’ She tried to step back, out of that confusing warmth of his embrace, but she was trapped against him by the crowd.

  ‘Are you looking for your father?’ he asked, his calm tone like an oasis.

  Perhaps he was a terrible rake, but he had been blessed with a damnably soothing voice.

  Mary tilted back her head to look up at him. He looked as if he had just stepped into a ballroom, his evening coat sharply tailored and immaculate, his hair falling in bright waves from beneath his hat. She was suddenly painfully aware that her own hat was gone, that she was a rumpled mess, her hems splashed with mud, her hair falling from its pins. But this was surely no moment for social niceties.

  She forced herself to meet his bright green gaze steadily, to smile. ‘Yes. Have you seen him? It took much longer to get here than we planned...’ She was shoved again and had to give in and hold on to his arm to keep from falling into the mud. His arm, so warm and strongly muscled, flexed under her touch and his other arm came closer around her.

  She glanced back at Adriana, only to find the maid’s former fear had fled into fascination with their handsome rescuer. Mary was afraid she looked much the same.

  Sebastian looked around them, frowning in concentration, his eyes narrowed. ‘That’s no surprise, Miss Manning. You’re quite fortunate to have made it here at all. I haven’t seen your father, but many of the English delegation are engaged in bringing the Prince and his family down to the docks now. Where are you supposed to be?’

  ‘I’m meant to embark on the Hibernia, but I’m not even sure how to find it.’

  He nodded, and before Mary could know what he intended he bent down and swept her up into his arms. He carried her as easily as if she was a feather and everyone quickly made way for him as he led them through the crowd and deposited her on a seat on the skiff. She dared not even breathe, he was much too close. Several other people crowded on to the small boat, pushing her even nearer to his side.

  She tried her hardest to ignore the fact that Sebastian sat so close to her in the small boat, his leg warm against hers through the muslin of her skirts, the velvet of her pelisse. It made her want to stay there for ever, even as she wanted to run away, and she could do neither. At the ball when they first met again, she had been able to run away, but not now.

  * * *

  At last the ship came into view and, despite its formidable, dark hulk against the slate-grey sky, she almost felt relief.

  A rope ladder swayed against the side of the ship, sailors peering over the railing high above as the skiff came alongside. One of the rowers leaped out and climbed up the waiting ladder, the wind catching at it with every step. Halfway up, he turned back and held out his hand to help Adriana. Adriana, shrieking and sighing, still found herself able to take the handsome sailor’s hand and let him assist her up the side.

  Mary had been on voyages before. She jumped up and caught the ladder as Adriana was drawn over the railing on to the deck. But after a few rungs, the heavy wind caught at Mary, catching her breath with its cold touch. The rope was slippery under her gloved hands and her stomach lurched as her whole body sw
ayed. The spray of the waves beneath her made her shiver.

  She glanced down and glimpsed Sebastian peering up at her. His face beneath the brim of his hat was dark with—could it be worry? From Sebastian Barrett, charmer of all ladies? Surely not, she thought. The sight of him watching her stiffened her resolve. She wouldn’t let him see her afraid. See her vulnerable. Not again.

  Not ever again.

  He looked as if he was about to step on to the ladder, to come after her, and she knew she had to move quickly. She glanced back up and kept climbing. It seemed a mile to the railing and her hands were numb by the time she reached its safety. Two sailors helped her up over on to the deck, as they had with Adriana, and she couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

  Was it because of the chill—or because Sebastian Barrett was there? Mary found she didn’t want to know, not really. He had reappeared so unexpectedly in her life, she was caught completely off-balance. But surely those feelings would pass, as they once had in London.

  They must pass.

  ‘Oh, senhorita!’ Adriana cried. She ran forward to wrap a blanket around Mary’s shoulders, clucking sympathetic words in Portuguese Mary gave her a grateful smile, tugging the thick wool closer against her, as if it could be armour to the chill both inside and out. She studied the deck around them, waiting as one by one the other passengers from the skiff were bundled on to the deck. It was a crowd of the English citizens who had been living in Lisbon, as well as a few Portuguese aristocrats, sobbing at leaving their home, barely wedged in among crates of papers and boxes stamped with the royal seal. It was crowded, noisy, confusing.

  ‘Miss Manning,’ a portly man in a naval uniform liberally laced with decorations called. ‘I am Lieutenant Stanhope. Your father asked me to look after you until he arrives. I’m most glad to see you made it safely.’

  ‘Lieutenant Stanhope. How do you do,’ Mary said. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Sebastian had arrived on deck, but she couldn’t see him yet. She took a deep breath. ‘Is my father expected soon?’

  ‘I have had a message that he will make sure the Prince Regent is embarked on the Principe Real first, but it should not be long. I have secured a cabin for you and your maid. Rather small, I fear...’

  Mary studied the crowded deck again, the people and luggage piled on every available inch, the snap of the sails overhead. Surely even the tiniest cabin was going to be a rare luxury on this long voyage.

  A long voyage where she could run into Sebastian at any moment. Where there would be no place for her to hide her blushes.

  ‘That is most kind of you, Lieutenant Stanhope,’ she said, taking a deep breath. She had long learned to never show her real feelings, her real fear.

  ‘Would you care for me to show you the way?’ Lieutenant Stanhope asked. He glanced around, wringing his gloved hands together, and Mary knew he was very busy indeed.

  ‘I think I will keep watch here on deck for a bit longer, thank you. If I won’t be in the way here,’ she said.

  ‘Not at all. If you will just excuse me...’

  As the captain hurried away, the last of the passengers, already dazed by the rough waters and the cold wind, landed on the deck. Sebastian was the last to appear.

  He looked at Mary again, with that solemn, searching expression on his face. She couldn’t fathom what he wanted from her, what he thought when he watched her. To make fun of her again? To hurt her? She was not the lonely girl she had been then; she wouldn’t fall for that charm again.

  She turned sharply away from him, from that sea-green gaze that seemed to see far too much, and hurried to a slightly quieter spot by the rail, where she could watch for her father.

  From that distance, the chaos at the docks looked far removed, rather like the scurrying of a hive of bees. More carriages had arrived, getting lodged in the mud, and crates and trunks were growing in tottering piles as their owners ran between them. But Mary knew all too well the full seriousness of what she watched. A whole empire was being tumbled about, to land wherever they might, and the whole Continent would never be the same.

  She peered across the bay at the Portuguese royal vessels, the ship of the line the Principe Real, meant to carry Dom Joao and his heir, and the others prepared for his wife, Doña Carlota, and all their royal relatives—if they appeared. She saw no signs of them yet, only the courtiers trying to find their own berths however they could.

  She shivered again and drew the blanket closer around her.

  ‘Mary! Is it truly you? Oh, how glad I am to see a face I know!’

  Mary spun around to see her friend Teresa running towards her across the crowded deck. Her usually impeccably fashionable appearance was rumpled, her black hair tumbling from its pins, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders as meagre protection against the cold. She dodged around aimlessly milling passengers, waving her hands above her head.

  ‘Teresa! I was worried about you,’ Mary cried as Teresa threw her arms around her. Mary, too, was overjoyed to see a familiar face, to know a friend was there amid the chaos. ‘How did you get on the Hibernia?’

  ‘A stroke of only luck, I fear,’ Teresa said. ‘Luis got us passes from Dom Joao for berths on the Alfonso de Albuquerque, with my mistress, Doña Carlota, but when we arrived at the docks we could make no one hear us. Such appalling treatment! Can you imagine?’

  Mary thought of the man in the crooked wig and torn knee breeches, arguing that he had a pass. ‘I fear I can imagine all too well after what I’ve seen today. The docks are crowded with people desperate to get away. But thankfully you are here now and can share my cabin.’

  Teresa shuddered. She wore only a thin muslin gown and silk spencer jacket with her shawl. Mary quickly wrapped her own blanket around her friend’s shoulders. ‘I have never imagined anything like it. My aunt, who was a nun, would have said it was the end of days. But you saved us, my friend!’

  ‘Me?’ Mary said in disbelief.

  ‘Of course. I saw a man in one of your English naval uniforms and I told him I knew you and your father. He made sure we were loaded into a skiff that was just leaving, and here we are, safely away.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Luis, of course. He pushed our way through that fearful crowd.’ Teresa peered over Mary’s shoulder at the crowd around them and waved.

  Mary glanced back to see Teresa’s brother making his way towards them. He was so tall and dark, so dashing, that ladies all around the deck stopped to peek at him, despite the fearful circumstances.

  ‘Miss Manning! Our heroine.’ He dramatically caught up her hand and bowed over it, making her laugh. She saw why all Lisbon was so charmed by the Fernandes siblings; they made her forget even her own worries, if only for a moment. ‘Teresa was most clever to use your name. Surely you can open all doors in this English world.’

  Mary laughed. ‘Not all, I fear.’ She couldn’t solve her own lingering feelings for Sebastian Barrett, though she was determined she would conquer it, one way or another. ‘But I am glad I could help you make it here safely, even if only in a very small way.’

  ‘Not small at all.’ He kissed her hand again and Mary suddenly glimpsed Sebastian further along the rail, watching her and Luis. She couldn’t read his expression at all.

  Mr Nicholas Warren appeared at Luis’s shoulder, blocking Mary’s glimpse of Sebastian. She smiled at him, grateful for the distraction.

  ‘Miss Manning!’ Mr Warren cried. ‘You arrived safely after all, thank goodness.’

  ‘And you, Mr Warren. Everything does seem most uncertain today,’ Mary answered, carefully sliding her hand out of Luis’s. She smiled politely at Mr Warren, even as she still remembered all too well he had been one of Sebastian’s wild friends in London. ‘Do you remember my friend, Doña Teresa Fernandes, and her brother, Dom Luis? I believe you met at the Regent’s ball. This is Mr Nicholas Warren, a member of
the English delegation with my father. It seems we are to travel together.’

  Mr Warren turned to Teresa—and his bluff, handsome face reddened, as so many men’s did when faced with Teresa’s Portuguese beauty. He gave a hasty bow. ‘I haven’t—that is, I am most happy to have the pleasure again, Doña Teresa,’ he stammered.

  Teresa offered him her hand with a bright smile, as if she was in a ballroom and not on the deck of a chaotic ship. Mary couldn’t help but admire such sang-froid. ‘I am sorry our meeting must be under such trying circumstances, Mr Warren. I fear I am not at my best.’

  ‘I think then I should be most nervous to see what your best could be, Doña Teresa,’ he said with a nervous laugh. ‘It must be quite fearsome.’

  ‘They are here! The royal family has arrived!’ The cry flew along the deck like a rush of cold wind. Mary was suddenly jostled, pushed up close to the rail as everyone strained for a glimpse of Dom Joao and his family, on whom this whole enormous risk rested.

  Mary held up her hand against the grey glare of the light, but all she could see was a line of large, luxurious carriages lumbering towards the docks, jostled on all sides by the desperate crowds still ashore.

  Suddenly the danger, the running out of precious time, seemed all too real.

  She felt a warm touch on her arm and glanced up to see Sebastian had somehow made his way to her side. His face was still expressionless, his eyes such a dark green as he looked down at her. He silently held out to her a telescope. She slowly accepted it, unsure, but strangely hopeful.

  She turned away, all too aware of him standing close to her, as he had on the skiff. The scent of him seemed to wrap around her on the cold breeze and it steadied her. She lifted the telescope and studied the scene on shore, suddenly amplified through the tiny glass.

  It looked even more wild than before, a swarm of people whose desperation was palpable even across the turbulent waves. The skies overhead were filling with swirling clouds and the ships rode low, as if becoming dangerously overloaded. No one wanted to be left behind, especially now as the moments flew by.