spoke perfect English. ‘Over the years before the revolution, my studies led to friendship with some eminent professors at Oxford university. It is these very good friends who offered sanctuary to myself and Lisette, my daughter, as soon as we got word out that we were alive.’
‘So, you’ve been planning your escape for some time then, monsieur?’
‘Yes, for more than a year now. My wife, Lisette’s maman, was killed by the guillotine three years ago. Until she died, we had hoped to survive in France, to simply wait until this madness, this terreur, was ended. But when my dear wife was executed—murdered …’
‘Papa, we must think of the future now, it is what maman would want.’ Lisette’s gentle voice, full of compassion, roused her papa from his maudlin thoughts.
‘You are right, ma petite.’ Monsieur Renaud heaved a sigh, and, fortified with another draught of wine, resumed his story. ‘We heard of the English monsieur and his rescues through another of my countrymen, but it proved difficult and time-consuming to make contact and the necessary arrangements. Easy to understand, given the need for secrecy and the danger to all concerned. But now, thank God, we are finally here.’
‘The expense must have been a big problem for you?’
‘Oh, no, mais non, madame, there was no cost. Monsieur never takes a fee for his rescues, nor even a gift—and he has been offered many. Not once, in many, many attempts, has he been caught. Not one passenger has he failed, even when he had to wait in France, at great danger to himself. He is a hero.’
Clarissa smiled, wishing just for a moment that Kit was present to hear himself being described in the very terms he had denied so vehemently only hours before. She had been right about him, but it was reassuring to have it confirmed.
‘Yes, I believe he is a hero, monsieur, would he but admit it.’
‘We are not even permitted to know his name, madame.’ Lisette joined in the conversation now, her pretty face animated, the only traces of the frightened little girl who had boarded the yacht showing in the lines of exhaustion. ‘He is known as the Loup de Mer, the name of this yacht, and I think it suits him, non? He is just like a wolf, is he not, so dangerous, and so brave. But you, madame, you must know him well to be here on the boat with us. Tell me, is he of noble birth, as they say he is?’
Clarissa blushed, for Lisette was obviously curious as to her relationship with Kit, even if she was too polite to ask. ‘I think, mademoiselle, that if he wished his name to be known he would tell you. It is not for me to give away his secrets.’
‘Well spoken, my dear, my secrets are nobody’s property but mine.’
Kit entered the tiny cabin with his usual cat-like grace, making the room suddenly seem much smaller. The cynical smile was firmly in place, the slight frown drawing his black brows together demonstrating clearly that he had overheard enough of the conversation to know Clarissa had been asking questions.
‘My aunt always told me that listeners hear only ill of themselves, you know. You are fortunate you didn’t arrive any earlier.’
‘Ah, so you have an aunt, as well as a mother. Quite a little family gathering there will be awaiting you on your return from your trip. And what, pray, would I have overheard that would have been so unwelcome to my ears?’
‘Why, sir, only what I told you myself, and to your face. You are a hero. And it came this time not from my lips, but from those of Monsieur Renaud here.’
‘And, oh, monsieur, it is true. To us you are a hero, je vous promis.’ The worshipful tone of Lisette’s voice could not be ignored, but instead of taking umbrage with her, Kit laughed.
‘Merci du compliment, mademoiselle. But I didn’t come here to discuss my character, I came to remind you of your promises to me. We will be in England soon. A chaise awaits you, to take you to London and thence to Oxford. Once you are disembarked, you must not discuss this journey, nor may you tell any of your friends still in France how you came to contact me. From tonight, the Loup de Mer is no more. You have the honour of being my last passengers. And after tonight, even if we meet in the street, you must not recognise me. Is that understood?’
‘But why? Monsieur, I do not understand why?’
‘Lisette!’ Monsieur Renaud laid a constraining hand on his daughter’s shoulder. ‘Tais-toi. I speak for both of us, monsieur, when I say that it shall be as you demand. But I beg you, if you should ever be in need of a friend yourself, to consider me your eternally grateful servant.’
‘Thank you, monsieur.’ Only Clarissa realised that the curt tone hid Kit’s own pleasure at the compliment. ‘Now, I will bid you adieu. I will be busy on deck until we disembark. I am sure that madame here will look after you well. She is adept at it, I can vouch.’ A brief nod and a smile, and he was gone.
Clarissa settled Lisette down to sleep on the narrow bunk, letting her head rest on her own lap, soothing her into slumber by stroking her hair as she had done with Amelia countless times. After a while, Monsieur Renaud slept too, more fitfully, uncomfortably upright on the bunk opposite, and Clarissa sat watching over them, her own mind too tired to grapple with the travails that lay ahead when they arrived back in port.
Finally she too dozed off. She woke briefly to see Kit hovering over her, tucking a blanket round her, but he put a finger to his mouth and left as silently as he had arrived, so she smiled faintly, and turned to a troubled sleep once more.
When Clarissa next opened her eyes, the porthole revealed a choppy iron-grey sea rising to meet the pale dawn sky. It was morn, though she had no idea what o’clock. Even with a poor wind, they must be near home. Gently, so as not to disturb Lisette, still soundly asleep on her lap, Clarissa rose and stretched, stiff and sore from lying on the rough planks that passed for a bed. Her eyes felt gritty from the briny salt of the sea-spray, and she was ravenously hungry. She had not eaten since the inn, which seemed like long ago now, though it was only yesterday. But breakfast would have to wait until they landed, and she had a suspicion that once they were safely ashore, breakfast would be the last thing on her mind.
The yacht was slowing, but she could see nothing from the porthole to tell her their position. Steadying herself to go above decks, she was stilled by the sound of strange voices, and waited, suddenly alert to danger. The cabin door opened abruptly and John appeared, his face creased in worry.
‘Master says to stay down there, and make no sound. There’s a cutter coming alongside, they mustn’t find you.’
‘A cutter? Do you mean a customs ship?’
‘Aye. They’ve been tipped off, must’ve been, as they were lying in wait for us. I warned the master after the last time that someone was informing on us. And this time they want to board. They must be certain sure of their information.’
‘But can’t you prevent them boarding?’
‘Master Kit’ll try, lady, but they do seem mighty determined this time. And Master Kit, happen he’s riled that Lieutenant Smith once too often. The lad’s got summat to prove.’
Looking desperately round the tiny cabin, Clarissa realised there was nowhere for them to hide. The brandy casks were in the hidden compartment on deck, but no Riding Officer worth his salt would fail to discover the hiding place if
