A Reformed Rake by Jeanne Savery Page B

most of all, she needed freedom from worry. Would she find that once she’d handed Françoise into his uncle’s protection? Or would she discover that Crawford’s new wife was nearly as much a danger as the comte? Frederick sighed, wishing there were a simple answer.
    Dover’s famous white cliffs were visible now, ghostly pale in the skittish moonlight, the moon showing itself less and less often as the cloud cover worsened. They’d have been within sight of those cliffs some time ago if it were daytime and the sun shone on them. He cast another wary glance toward the billowing clouds whipping across the sky and prayed there would be time to disembark before the heavy-bottomed harbingers of the coming storm opened up and soaked the world.
    He looked ahead, his hands on the rail. At least here, in Dover, they would not have to transfer to small boats and be rowed in. there would be a gangplank down which they could walk and a hack or chairs in which the women could ride to the hotel. His grip tightened as he heard soft steps behind him, but he didn’t turn his head. Had he, carelessly, at the last moment, given the comte’s murderer a chance at him?
    “Sir Frederick?’’
    He relaxed at Harriet’s tentative question. “I was about to send for you. Did you rest, Miss Cole?”
    “Yes. Will it be long now?”
    “I believe something less than half an hour. There,” he pointed, “See? England awaits us.”
    “What a busy port even now, at night.”
    “Hmmm.”
    They reached simultaneously for Harriet’s scarf which blew across his face. Their hands met. Holding both her fingers and the soft material, Frederick turned. “Are you looking forward to being in London again, Miss Cole?”
    Harriet’s fingers trembled. His words were courteous, perfectly polite, but the gentle pressure of his hand and the warmth in his eyes were saying something different. She searched his face, barely hearing her own voice respond with a quiet negative. “I was not happy in London. I have no fond memories of my one and only stay there.”
    “It will be different this time, Miss Cole.”
    “How will it be different?”
    “You are older, for one thing.”
    She nodded. “And little better than a servant for another.”
    His hand tightened around hers. “You are much more than a servant!”
    Harriet looked away, refused to respond to such a silly comment.
    Sir Frederick sighed softly, but changed the subject to one she’d deem less controversial. “I have had an idea I believe will satisfy any fears you have about putting up at another hotel—even one so well run as the Pulteney. It should satisfy Madame as well. It will take time to contact my uncle who rarely visits London and is unlikely to be there when we arrive, and I think it will be best if you visit his new wife’s brother. Lord Halford has a moderately large and well-situated London house. He may be told the whole story of the comte’s persecution of Mademoiselle with no concern that he’ll add the story to the London gossip mill. He will be prepared to protect Mademoiselle Françoise. Most important of all, with the connection through his sister, who is married to Frani’s grandfather, no eyebrows will be raised, and we’ll avoid scandal.”
    “You mean we need not be tainted by our association with yourself.”
    “Exactly.”
    “A confirmed rake worrying about the reputation of a beautiful young girl! You are a strange man, Sir Frederick.”
    “Only to a mind as suspicious as your own. Perhaps it is because I have led the life of a rake I know the dangers surrounding women such as yourself and wish to circumvent them.” He raised an eyebrow, his gaze questioning.
    “Oh, not myself,” she responded. “I am well and truly on the shelf, a confirmed ape leader. At six and twenty I’ve given up all hopes of attaining the married state, of course. Furthermore, I am a companion, a servant, as I have said. Again there is no reputation to protect. But, for