Whirlwind Wedding

Austin allowed an icy smile to touch his lips. 'Then I don't believe you'll be of any use to me. And I don't believe you'll recover from the hole I'll shoot in your gut.'

Fear flickered in the sailor's eyes, but he quickly covered it with a shrug. 'Wot do ye want to know?'

'You know a Frenchman named Gaspard. I want to know where I can find him.' He purposely jangled the pouch filled with coins. 'Tell me and the money is yours.'

The sailor tossed back a gulp of whiskey, then wiped his mouth with the back of a meaty hand. 'Bertrand Gaspard?'

Austin fought to remain calm. Bertrand Gaspard. He finally knew the full name of the man he sought. 'Where is he?'

The sailor shrugged. ' 'E was 'ere in London for awhile, but then 'e rushed 'ome. To France.'

'Where does he live?'

'Some village near Calais.'

Austin leaned forward. 'Which village?'

The sailor eyed him cautiously. 'Can't recall the exact name. Sounds like a bloke's name.'

Austin thought for a moment. 'Marck?'

Recognition widened the sailor's eyes. 'That's it.'

'Why was he in London?'

'Said 'e 'ad some business. Was lookin' fer someone. Didn't say who. Bragged some 'bout comin' into some big money.'

His gaze narrowed on Austin's. 'That's all I know. I kept up me end of the bargain. Now give me the blunt.'

Austin placed two pouches on the scarred table and slipped his pistol into his pocket. The sailor opened the pouches to verify the contents and Austin seized the man's distraction to slip out the door.

Keeping to the shadows, Austin walked quickly through the labyrinth of alleyways to his waiting hack. Grim elation pumped through his veins.

Bertrand Gaspard.

His knew his enemy's name. And where he lived. He knew where to find the answers he sought. And he hoped to God those answers included William. I'm coming for you, you bastard.

When Austin entered his town house, he found Elizabeth pacing the foyer. She halted the instant she saw him, her gaze running down the length of him as if to assure herself he was still in one piece.

Handing his hat to Carters, he said quietly, 'I'm fine.'

An audible sigh of relief escaped her. Her gaze darted to Carters, then returned to him. 'Can we speak privately?'

He hesitated. God knew he didn't want to be alone with her, but he certainly couldn't discuss his meeting with the sailor here in the foyer. Inclining his head to indicate she should follow him, he walked down the corridor to his private study. Once inside, he closed the door, enveloping them in silence.

She stood in the center of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes steady on his, and a flood of memories washed over him. Elizabeth smiling at him. Elizabeth opening her arms to him. Lifting her face for his kiss. Lying beneath him, trembling with need. Asleep in his arms.

He tried to bludgeon the unwanted images back, but they assaulted him, attacking him with relentless accuracy. His gaze strayed to the carpet beneath her feet. They'd made love exactly where she now stood, the night he'd taught her the waltz and shown her where he'd hung the sketch she'd drawn of him.

He forced himself to look at that now empty space on the paneled wall opposite his desk. He'd removed the drawing because he couldn't bear to see it, to relive the memories it evoked every time he entered his study.

Returning his attention to her, he saw that her gaze was fixed upon the blank space where her sketch had hung. He fancied he saw hurt flash in her eyes, but he forced himself to harden his heart to it. She'd made her choice. And she had not chosen him.

'You wished to speak with me privately?' he asked.

She pulled her gaze from the paneled wall and faced him with a cool expression that ignited his temper.

'What happened at the docks?' she asked.

He cocked a brow. 'You don't know?'

She blanched at his sarcastic question, then shook her head. 'I feel that you found the answers you sought, but that is all.'

Hoping a drink would ease the tension knotting his shoulders, he crossed to the decanters. After a hefty swallow of brandy, he related the information the sailor had given him.

She listened intently, her brow furrowed with concentration. When he finished she said 'I assume you're planning to go to France.'

'Yes. In fact, if you'll excuse me, I must instruct Kingsbury to pack my things.'

'You're leaving soon?'

'Within the hour. The journey to Dover will take nearly five hours. I'll sail for Calais with the morning tide.' He stood unable to tear his gaze away from her, knowing he could not leave without saying what needed to be said.

'Elizabeth.' He coughed to clear his tight throat. 'I owe you my thanks for your assistance in finding Gaspard. I shall always be grateful. Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' Elizabeth looked at his handsome, serious face and her heart broke into tiny pieces. Dear God she loved him so much. 'I… I would do anything for you.'

The unguarded words slipped past her lips and she cringed as the budding warmth she'd detected in his expression iced over.

'Anything?' A humorless laugh escaped him. 'If that weren't such a blatant lie, it would be positively amusing.' He crossed to the door and opened it. He hesitated as if deciding whether to say something more, but after several seconds, he simply walked into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth drew a deep breath and pressed her hands to her churning stomach. Her husband clearly thought he'd dismissed her.

Her chin lifted with determination.

Her husband clearly didn't know everything.

Austin strode from the town house, mentally congratulating himself on his hasty departure. He'd scribbled quick notes to his mother and Miles stating he'd been unavoidably called away to France. Regret pricked him at the way he'd left Elizabeth, but he hadn't had a choice. If he'd stayed in that room with her for another moment he would have said or done something he'd regret. Like dropped to my knees and begged her to love me.

An impatient sound escaped him and he forced himself to push thoughts of her aside. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. On his trip to France. On finding Gaspard. And hopefully William. He had to stop thinking about Elizabeth.

The footman opened the coach door for him. Austin placed his foot on the step and froze.

Elizabeth, garbed in her peacock traveling suit, sat in the coach.

'What the hell are you doing here?' he asked.

She raised her brows. 'I'm waiting for you.'

'If you wish to speak with me, you'll have to wait until I return. I'm leaving immediately.'

'Yes, I know. And the sooner you settle yourself, the sooner we can depart.'

'We?' A bark of incredulous laughter escaped him. 'We are not going anywhere.'

Her chin raised an inch. 'I beg to differ. We are going to France.'

Anger shot through him. With a curt nod he dismissed the hovering footman. Leaning into the carriage, he said in a tightly controlled voice, 'The only place you are going is back into the house. Now.'

'Do you truly think that is for the best?'

'Yes.'