Page 90 of A Perilous Passion

Giving his eyes time to adjust to the darkness beneath the tree, Rafe took the young man’s arm and pulled him down so they were hidden by an ancient standing stone. It was one of the few places one could use a lantern on this part of the heath, without being spotted.

Looking pallid in the flickering light, Jessop handed him a folded piece of paper. “Hamblett brought this from Dovehouse. The man who delivered it was one of Culverdale’s footmen, all rigged out in livery for that supper party they’re having tonight.”

What the devil?

Rafe’s hand trembled slightly as he unfolded the note. Something catastrophic must have happened for Culverdale to be so blatant in his actions. But the contents weren’t what he’d expected.

They were far worse.

“Beckport, I have your delightful Miss Allston,” the note read. “Be at Finchcombe by nine o’clock, exactly, or her life will be forfeit. Come alone and weaponless, and I’ll let her go as soon as I have you in hand. Should you disobey, you’ll never see your sweetheart again. Or perhaps you will, but not in a condition that will bring you any joy, nor the comfort that she died quickly. Culverdale.”

“Sir? What is it?”

Time slowed to a crawl. As he turned to face Jessop, he felt like a wooden puppet, no longer in charge of his own limbs. “Hold the lantern,” he ordered as he took out his pocket watch.

Almost eight o’clock. More than enough time to get to Finchcombe House.

Why had Culverdale been so generous? Was nine o’clock chosen to coincide with the landing of the jolly boat, hoping any action Rafe had planned would founder without him at the helm? Which meant Culverdale had anticipated an ambush, damn his eyes! And that he knew of the connection between Rafe and Charlotte.

Rafe’s jaw clenched painfully. He was missing something.

Ah, of course! If Culverdale had also learned Rafe’s real identity, he’d assume Rafe’s affliction with horses meant he couldn’t ride, and granted him enough time to reach Finchcombe by foot.

Rafe had never thought he’d be glad of that fateful sneeze. But at this moment he was immensely grateful.

Because Culverdale’s wrong assumption meant Rafe could take the black-hearted devil by surprise.

“Sir? Do we have new orders?” asked Jessop.

“Not exactly. We have a dilemma.” Rafe handed him the note.

Jessop read it, then read it again in furious disbelief. “The villain! I’ll strangle him with my bare hands. What a coward, to use a defenseless woman as a bargaining tool. May he rot in hell!”

Rafe barely heard the younger man’s outrage. He felt sick. He’d known fear before and had learned to vanquish it, but the terror he was feeling now surpassed all previous experiences. Charlotte was in deadly peril, but his duty demanded he remain here, in command of this vital operation. The security of the entire country might depend upon its outcome.

His own good name certainly did.

What would Charlotte want him to do? His duty, almost certainly.

But he couldn’t abandon her. Impossible!

Unless he could find a way to be in two places at once…

Jessop tugged at his sleeve. “Let me go, sir,” he pleaded. “I’ll find where they’re keeping her and set her free. Maybe I could borrow a couple of men. We have enough to destroy a whole troop of smugglers and traitors. Your duty is here, sir, but I can easily be spared.”

“No!” Rafe snapped. The idea of Jessop rescuing Charlotte, of her throwing herself gratefully into his rival’s arms, was like a killing blow. “Where’s Hamblett?” he demanded.

“Out of sight beyond the ridge, sir. He galloped into one of our patrols and was advised to come no further. It’s about ten minutes away, though I could probably run it in five.”

“As could I,” growled Rafe. His fists clenched at his sides. The urge to cuff the young man was almost overwhelming. He had to remind himself Jessop was just as concerned about Charlotte as he was.

The crux of the matter was that somebody must remain here in charge of this operation, and it ought to be Rafe. It was his responsibility to give the order to fire, and his responsibility to send up the flare signaling the fort to discharge their cannon. If his scheme worked, the French ship would turn hard-a-starboard and make for the safety of the open water beyond the point where the frigate HMS Euryalus waited to intercept it.

How could he risk his country’s safety for a selfish thing like love? If he chose a woman over duty, his reputation and his family honor would be in ruins—this time, permanently.

Jessop was jiggling from foot to foot in front of him, waiting for an answer. He stared at the young man a moment, his thoughts chasing frantically around in his head.

This was the most momentous decision of his life.