Those Scandalous Ravenhursts. Louise Allen

two articles of clothing worn by a woman. ‘Which do you think?’

      Eva was wearing the chip straw, the bow tied at an angle under her jaw. The deep green of the satin ribbon did things to the colour of her eyes he could not explain, but which made him want to cover a bed with velvet in exactly that shade and lay her upon it. Naked.

      ‘Delightful. It definitely suits you.’ He remembered to talk in French just in time.

      ‘Or this?’ She replaced it with the amber straw. The brim framed her face, the colour brought out golden tones in her hair. The daydream changed to a bed strewn with amber silks. ‘Delightful. Have them both.’

      ‘Yes, but then I saw this.’ She was biting her lower lip in thought. Jack closed his eyes for a moment’s relief and opened them to see a pert confection he had no name for. The only word for it was sassy and it made his dignified grand duchess look like a seventeen-year-old, ripe for a spree.

      ‘Wonderful. Buy them all.’

      ‘Jacques, you aren’t taking this seriously. You must prefer one of them, or don’t you really like any?’ It was exactly what friends had moaned about. Women asked you for an opinion and then were upset whatever you said.

      ‘I think they all look marvellous on you,’ he said, trying to inject sincerity into his voice. ‘But I think that whatever the hat, you would look good, so it is very difficult to express a preference.’

      ‘Ah, monsieur.’ The milliner obviously thought this was a suitable answer. Eva cast him a roguish glance that made something deep inside respond. He knew his pulse rate was up and drew in a deep breath to steady it.

      ‘Thank you. I think I will have the chip straw and…that one.’ She pointed to the sassy little hat.

      ‘Not all three?’ Jack queried as the gratified shopkeeper hastened to pack the hats in their boxes.

      ‘We have only just started shopping.’ Jack found himself grinning back in answer to Eva’s smile.

      It was madness. Here he was, Jack Ryder, King’s Messenger, a man who chose danger as a way of life, looking forward to hours spent exploring dress shops, haberdashers and shoemakers. If Henry found out, he would never live it down.

       Chapter Nine

      Two hours later, laden with parcels, Jack called a halt and dragged Eva into a confectioner’s. ‘Enough! Can there be a single shop of interest to ladies in this town we have not explored?’

      ‘Not one.’ Eva smiled happily at him over the rim of a cup of chocolate. ‘Tell me what you bought for my riding clothes.’

      ‘Breeches, shirt, waistcoat, coat and boots. You can use one of my neckcloths.’

      ‘But how did you know my size?’ She blushed adorably, he mused, wondering how else he could provoke that reaction without overstepping the bounds of friendship he had set himself.

      ‘I can measure your height against myself, likewise your feet.’ He let his booted foot nudge against hers under the shelter of the tablecloth and lowered his voice. ‘As for the rest, well, I have held you in my arms.’

      ‘Oh.’ The rose-pink colour reached her temples this time. Jack tried not to imagine how soft the skin would be there, how it would feel to nuzzle along to the delicate curve of her ear and explore the crisp moulding before nibbling his way down…‘You have a good memory.’

      Confessing that he had been recalling those few minutes in vivid detail ever since they had occurred was out of the question. ‘I doubt the breeches will be a good fit.’ Eva looked a question. ‘Any youth quite your, er…shape would be an unusual young man. They are certain to be too large in the waist.’

      ‘Never mind. Better than too tight.’ Eva put one elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm while she nibbled at a macaroon biscuit. ‘Thank you for today.’

      ‘What, the clothes and fripperies? His Majesty’s Government coffers are paying for those.’ The range of items she had enjoyed browsing through had been a revelation to a man used to buying jewellery as a present for his mistress of the moment, or handing over cash for them to make their own purchases.

      ‘No. For the holiday. For letting me take my time and relax and for pretending you enjoyed it, too.’

      ‘I did enjoy it.’ She finished her biscuit and cupped her chin in both hands, regarding him sceptically. ‘It was a new experience for me. Shopping.’

      ‘Don’t men shop? Surely you do?’

      ‘Yes, but we don’t flit so much.’ He ignored her moue of indignation at his choice of verb. ‘I go to my tailor, my shirtmaker, my bootmaker, a perfumier for toiletries and so forth. But I know what I want before I set out, they are all within a very small compass of London streets, and I do it only when I need to.’

      ‘Then what did you enjoy about today?’

      Jack poured them both more hot chocolate and tried to explain. ‘I enjoyed your company, I enjoyed your good taste. It was an interesting glimpse into a feminine world—and I enjoyed seeing you enjoy yourself.’ And he had enjoyed just watching her, fantasising about making love to her, setting himself up for a night of disturbed sleep and physical discomfort thinking about her.

      ‘Thank you.’ The sceptical look was gone. ‘I am so glad we are friends.’ She put out her hand impulsively and lay it on his for a fleeting moment, then jerked it back, obviously embarrassed at doing such a thing in public. ‘Jack, are we in danger here?’

      ‘Here and now? I doubt it, unless whoever is chasing us has decided they need light refreshment. I somehow do not think this is what your brother-in-law would be expecting us to do just now. But if you mean in Grenoble, yes, certainly.’ There was no point in lying to her; besides anything else, neither of them could afford to be complacent.

      ‘It will be most dangerous from here to Dijon because there are so few alternative routes if we wish to avoid high mountains or areas that have come out strongly for Napoleon. After that, there are several possible routes.’

      ‘And Antoine may have found out about the factory by now, and know we know about the rockets.’ Jack nodded, watching her thinking. Now her guard was down with him, he found Eva’s brown eyes extraordinarily expressive. ‘Should we have stopped for so long? Shouldn’t we travel all night? But you will tell me you know best and not to worry, I expect.’ She bit her lip. ‘I am not holding you up, am I? I could have managed without more clothes. Or was that an excuse to give me a rest?’

      ‘You call that a rest? No, it was part of my plan. We could not have got more than one bag out safely, but it would draw attention to us if you are shabbily dressed.’ He gestured to the waiter for their bill. ‘I plan to leave early tomorrow, before sunrise. Always providing we can pack all this stuff away.’

      ‘We can put it under the seats if there is too much for the luggage racks,’ Eva suggested, gathering up the myriad of smaller packages. He was well aware that her demure expression was to hide her amusement at seeing him burdened by two hatboxes—well stuffed with lighter objects around the hats—three parcels and the unwieldy package containing the riding boots.

      ‘No, we can’t. One is full of equipment, and we may need the other one again.’

      ‘For me.’ She said it flatly and he could have kicked himself for reminding her. ‘It is all right Jack. I know you will let me out.’ Then she threaded her free hand through his elbow and nudged him lightly in the ribs. ‘And if you are found, apparently all alone with a carriage full of female apparel, what exactly is going to be your explanation?’

      ‘A demanding wife who expects a lot of presents,’ Jack retorted promptly and was rewarded by her rich chuckle. ‘Oh, and by the way, I have explained to our host that my fussy spouse finds the