Leopard in Exile by Andre Norton & Rosemary Edghill

Author:Andre Norton & Rosemary Edghill
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780812545401
Publisher: Tor Fantasy
Published: 2001-01-02T02:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The Man Who Came to Dinner

(Baltimore, September 1807)

The following evening, at eight of the clock, His Grace presented himself at the Governor's Palace. The day had been spent in frustrations large and small.

His first need had been for faster transportation than a borrowed carriage. The horses at the local stables—for Wessex had not been able to bring Hirondel with him on the long sea voyage—were found wanting, and so Wessex had taken one of them to pay a call on Mr. Bulford, regarding his hunter-hack.

Mr. Bulford's Further was an enormous bay with a mouth like iron and a stubborn and rebellious spirit, but he was also a well-formed beast whose deep chest and powerful haunches spoke of considerable stamina. Wessex bought him at once for very little more than he was actually worth and rode him back to the stables, leading his hired horse.

Once mounted, he went to the docks to deal further with the wreck of the Day-dream. The investigation had been unable to establish any cause for the fire, which did not surprise the Duke. He was also able to discover that Sarah—or at least a woman masquerading as the Duchess of Wessex—had arrived about a month ago in company with a tall, dark-haired gentleman on the mail packet from Boston. Hie gentleman had boarded a Dutchman bound for Spanish Florida, and the lady had gone into the city and not returned.

By then it was nearly noon, and Wessex repaired to a nearby tavern—which rejoiced in the cryptic identification The Gun and Cameras—for a noonday meal. He had not yet been served when a seafaring man came and sat down, uninvited, at his table.

Wessex tensed, fearing another confrontation with the White Tower. The man had a rough, almost piratical look to him. His eyes were hazel, and he had a pronounced scar on his chin.

"I'm Pendray. My ship is the Jahrtausendfeier Falke. The word in the port is that you're looking for the Duchess of Wessex."

Pendray told his story quickly and to the point He knew nothing of the Duchess, only that in the spring a woman had come to him asking that a letter be delivered to her.

"I took it—aye, and delivered it, too. T'was the least I could do for a countrywoman." His description matched Mend's closely, and Wessex recalled that the Highcleres held land in Cornwall, and that Meriel had been raised there.

"Did the Duchess come, then? The maidy thought she would," Pendray said.

"She did. But as for what happened then—" Wessex stopped abruptly.

"It was your ship as burned in the harbor yesterday, was it? You could see the blaze two miles out to sea. Aye, and the maidy did look as if she were being hunted by ghosts. There was that iron in her soul,"

Pendray said consideringly.

"Whoever is hunting her will find me hunting them," Wessex said mildly.

"Then good luck to you, me lord," Pendray said, rising to his feet. "I've done what I came to."

Wessex accomplished little more before he retired, in a black and dangerous mood, to dress for dinner.

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