“What?” Simeon said sharply, lifting his head. One had to expect that at some point the king’s servants would desire entrance and he meant to deny them. But this sounded more serious.
“He said something about prisoners,” Isidore said, her breath catching in a little pant. “A prison ship. Simeon…don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
But his entire body had gone on alert in the time it took for her to say the sentence. “Up,” he commanded, jerking down her skirts as he spoke.
“What?” Isidore stood up, but her legs were wobbly and she clung to his arm.
“One of the prison boats moored in the Thames must have struck this yacht. Or we struck it.” He wrenched on his breeches.
“Oh.” Isidore stood for a moment, trying to catch her breath. “I suppose we’d better leave then.” She found one of her shoes and turned it right side up.
“Can you run in those?” Simeon was listening at the door.
“No.”
“Leave them.” He tossed Villiers’s beautiful coat into the corner.
“But the diamonds—” Isidore looked about swiftly, and then flung her shoes under the sofa. She could always retrieve them later.
Simeon pulled the chair out of the way. “I think from the noise the prisoners have escaped and are getting onto the yacht,” he said. “We need to get out of here.”
“Couldn’t that chair protect us?” Isidore asked longingly, running her hands up his chest.
“Not if they fire the vessel.”
Isidore’s eyes rounded. “I can’t swim in this gown, Simeon.”
“Do you remember that conversation we had, back when I was afraid of crises and you told me there weren’t any in England?” He couldn’t help it; she was so delicious that he had to kiss her again.
“You’re my bally- something,” Isidore said a moment later, looking a great deal less frightened. “Just tell me what to do, capo.”
“We’re going overboard,” he said. “We can’t stay here, with you in that gown. And we need to get off as quickly as possible.”
Isidore nodded and put her hand in his. He pulled the door open cautiously and looked out. There was no one in the ballroom. But with the door open, the sound from the deck swelled. There was screaming and the unmistakable sound of swords clashing. “They’re fighting,” Isidore breathed.
“The king’s own guard is likely here. Not to mention parish constables, the Watch, and guards from the prison ship.” But he didn’t really give a damn about that. The only thing he cared about was the most precious bundle of his entire life, her hand trustingly clasped in his. “Don’t worry,” Simeon said fiercely.
The smile she gave him blinded him. “I’m not.”
They walked silently into the ballroom, keeping to the edge of the wall, heading to the doors on the other side of the room, away from the deck. Once through the door, Simeon made his way swiftly through the corridors until he came to the staircase at the very end of the yacht.
“We’ll go up here,” he said in her ear. “We have to go straight over the railing, Isidore. If they see you, they’ll fight to the death to have you.”
She nodded. He wrapped his hands around her and gave her one last, fierce kiss.
“I’ll go off the railing to the left and distract them. I doubt they can swim, and at any rate, I don’t think they’ll bother. But they’ll certainly come to the railing on that side.” His voice was just a thread of sound. “Stay behind this door and count to twenty. Then run through the door and over the railing to the right without pausing to think or listen. Promise?”
She nodded again.
He eased open the door and launched himself through it. Isidore began to count. Don’t listen, she told herself. You said you wouldn’t listen. You just count to twenty, and then run. That’s all—
She couldn’t help it. Ears were made for listening. She heard Simeon’s footsteps and a splash and then shouts. Happy shouts in rough accents. With a leaden feeling of terror, she realized that Simeon had dived overboard but that a ruffian already in the water had grabbed him instantly.
She crept to the door and peered through it. A few ragged men were hanging over the railing, then a head appeared and they were hauling up Simeon, dripping and furious. They had his arms behind his back.
The prisoner who’d caught Simeon climbed over the railing. “Kicked me right good, he did,” the man said, adding a word that Isidore had never heard before. “I’ll have my own back for that.” And before Isidore could draw a breath he pulled back his arm and socked Simeon in the cheek. Simeon fell backward against the deck, pinned by the two men holding his arms.