A Reformed Rake by Jeanne Savery

our dance was finished.”
    “We danced?” He turned to stare at her. “Why don’t I remember?”
    “As I said, there was another lady, a very beautiful young lady. She was dancing in the next set.”
    Sir Frederick closed his eyes. He pulled in a long breath and let it go slowly. “I see. You are a woman scorned and not about to give an inch now we’ve met again.”
    “No. I’ve no wish for revenge. I had that—although you were unaware.” His mobile eyebrow rose, silently asking a question. “I made a May-game of you while we danced,” she explained. “It was the most enjoyable set of my whole miserable experience in London. I laughed about it for months.” When he asked how she’d done so, a twinkling eye telling her he’d not hold it against her, she described her small revenge. She finished, “Then I suggested the new steam engine might someday replace sail.”
    “I hope I agreed to that. It will, you know.”
    “Ridiculous.”
    “No.”
    Sir Frederick explained why he believed it true. Harriet argued. He responded. Their discussion passed to other things and, slowly, but without their noticing, well over an hour passed. The moon peeked from between scudding clouds and Sir Frederick looked around. Yves lay on still another chair, wrapped tightly in a warm rug. Madame and Françoise slept uneasily. So did Cob.
    Farther along the railing stood a scowling stranger who occasionally glanced their way. Sir Frederick eyed him thoughtfully. Then he looked to where a sailor stood, arms folded, one knee bent and his foot steadying his bulky body as he leaned back against the superstructure. The captain had ordered that huge man to guard this party and the man was unquestioningly following orders. Frederick relaxed.
    “As much as I’m enjoying our conversation, Miss Cole, I think you should rest. You will be called when we reach Dover. Tomorrow, if Madame is able, we’ll travel on to London.”
    “You’ve arranged transport?”
    “So I hope. I’d no notion I’d have passengers when I first sent a message to my friend, but, if Lord Halford is in London, he will have purchased a team and carriage for me. It will be waiting in Dover. If he has failed me, then I’ll hire a post chaise. You ladies may have the coach and Monsieur de Bartigues and I will ride.” Frederick frowned. “I still do not like the notion that you’ll arrive in London under my care.”
    “Once in London you may leave us. I believe Madame intends hiring a suite at the Pulteney Hotel in Piccadilly. From there she will contact Lord Crawford.”
    “ Who ?”
    “Lord Crawford.”
    “Crawford! But he can’t be Françoise’s grandfather. He has no grandchildren.”
    “There was a family argument when his daughter wished to marry Frani’s father. He disinherited her when she eloped.”
    “Impossible. His daughter drowned nearly twenty years ago. I remember it well. There is a memorial plaque in the castle chapel.”
    Harriet turned to lean back against the rail, eyed him. “How do you know so much?”
    Frederick’s grim expression softened. “Because, my suspicious one, she was my favorite cousin, one of the few females in the world I actually liked. I was devastated when she drowned.”
    “Your cousin? I’m sorry that I must tell you Lord Crawford lied. She died only five years ago.”
    Sir Frederick fell silent, staring over the phosphorescent tipped waves. “How could he have done such a thing? She was the old man’s only offspring. Or she was when I left England last spring.” He forced a chuckle. “I’ve been gone just long enough that it is possible his new wife has given him another. He remarried not long before I left, you see.”
    “Oh dear. I wonder if his wife will welcome Françoise.”
    “She will not.”
    “You sound very sure of that.”
    “I am. The woman my uncle married is a most vicious woman. She will be jealous of Mademoiselle Françoise’s beauty and still more jealous of her youth. Poor