Unlacing Lady Thea. Louise Allen

knowledge of his body like that, even more disconcerting than the fact that he had caressed her breast.

      ‘They are not as high as at Dover. We’ll be in Dieppe soon.’ Rhys sounded perfectly normal, too. He could not have realised that she had been awake as long as she had, or perhaps men were completely blasé about that kind of thing.

      But he had not been indifferent about that hectic moment on the quayside in Dover. A sharp pain made her realise that she was biting her lower lip. The only thing to be done was to seem entirely unconscious of any reaction on either of their parts, and Rhys would soon realise that she had no interest in him as anything but an old friend.

      Polly brought her tea and she leaned on the other side of the mast, scanning the coast for anything particularly foreign and exotic. ‘It looks just like England,’ she complained as they swung into the harbour.

      ‘That doesn’t.’ Rhys nodded to a life-sized crucifix set up to dominate the quayside. ‘And look at the costumes. Do you think they are fishwives?’

      ‘They are exceptionally clean if they are,’ Thea observed as the crowd on the quay came into focus. ‘Not like Billingsgate at all!’ The women had tight-waisted bodices with vast skirts billowing out and finishing well above their white-stockinged ankles. They wore snow-white caps with flaps hanging down to their shoulders and, as the sails came down and the ship lost way, Thea could see the glint of gold in every ear.

      ‘So many soldiers,’ she added as they glided closer. The crowd was full of men in greatcoats, military-looking jackets, cocked hats—all studying the ship and its human cargo with sullen faces. Thea was suddenly very grateful that she was not attempting this journey by herself. They had been at war with these people for years and, it seemed, peace had not made much difference. ‘I thought the army would have been disbanded,’ she added, trying for a note of bright interest and not apprehension. She had fought down her fears about leaving home, but it had never occurred to her to worry about dangers beyond escaping the shores of England.

      ‘It has, by and large. Those aren’t soldiers, at least not anymore. These are just conscripts who have returned home. Look around, virtually everyone is wearing some piece of cast-off uniform, even some of the women. They’ve been at war for years, poor devils, and they probably don’t have much else.’

      ‘Is there a hotel we will go to?’ Thea saw jostling porters, lads with barrows, and tried to start thinking in French. It had never been her best subject, much to the disapproval of her governess.

      ‘Of course. It is all arranged. We will be met—in fact, that must be the agent there.’ Rhys raised a hand and a tall, thin man in a dark suit of clothes lifted his hat in acknowledgement.

      The ship bumped alongside, almost level with the top of the quay. Ropes were thrown and tied, a ladder let down the few feet to the deck and Rhys went up, then reached out to help Thea, who twitched her veil into place.

      ‘Monsieur le comte!’ The man was pushing his way to their side.

      ‘No earls in France,’ Rhys observed to Thea. ‘With or without their heads. It appears I have become a count.’

      ‘François le Brun, at your service, monsieur le comte.’ He whipped his hat off again as he saw Thea. ‘And madame la comtesse! I had not expected the honour.’

      ‘Non, monsieur. Je suis...’

      ‘This is Madame Smith,’ Rhys said firmly in French that was considerably better than hers. ‘A family friend I am escorting to Paris.’

      ‘But of course!’ Le Brun’s hands fluttered in urgent signals to indicate his total willingness to oblige. He was desperate to please, Thea realised. The returning English must offer employment and hope after difficult times. ‘It is as monsieur le comte says. Another chamber will be no problem. I have taken the entire hôtel for the convenience of monsieur le comte.’