A Christmas Charade (16 page)

There was a restlessness in her, an unfamiliar agitation that could be alleviated only by some form of brisk physical exercise, such as a long walk—or by the confrontation with Stenton, in which she would tell him to stay away from the beach.

What presumptuousness! No wonder she felt hot and cold at the prospect of facing him.

Truly, her agitation had
nothing
to do with dark gray eyes that had looked at her with concern, with a voice that had soothed and reassured when she came to her senses by the landing stage.

Neither had it to do with awaking suddenly in the middle of the night from a laudanum-drugged sleep and wishing she could see Stenton and make a clean breast of it, explain that she had allowed pique and vanity to rule her common sense when she denied a previous acquaintance with him.

Later, in the gray light of morning, she had admitted it was a foolish wish. For one thing, there was that wager between Lord Nicholas and Juliette. Reprehensible the bet might be, but
she
had invited it when Stenton suspected he knew her and she denied it. No true-blooded Englishman or woman could have resisted a wager under the circumstances. The deed was done and, as Nicholas said, she mustn’t spoil sport now.

But what had clinched the matter was the realization that she wanted Stenton to look upon her as a woman, not a puzzle piece that did not quite fit the picture.

“
So?
”

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. She was alone in her chamber, yet someone had spoken to her.

“Tell me this, Miss Elizabeth! If you’re too proud to set his grace straight, how will you get him to see you as a woman?”

The voice was female. Elizabeth was sure of it. Possibly that of a young girl.

Her heart beat in her throat. Turning slowly, she scanned the room. “Who is there?”

She heard a giggle, hastily stifled. The swish of skirts, then silence.

“Who is it?” she asked again, but all she heard in reply was her own rapid breathing.

Elizabeth hugged her arms to her chest. Snippets of tales about ghosts in old houses whirled in her mind. Was that what she had heard? A ghost? A ghost, speaking to the point as though it—she?—had known Elizabeth’s every thought.

The possibility that there might be a ghost at Stenton Castle was not half as disconcerting as the alternative: that she had been talking aloud to herself.

She shook her head. All this nonsense came from being cooped up in a room when she should be out walking, letting the wind blow the cobwebs from her head.

She could borrow a cloak from one of the maids and explore the village of East Dean where, she suspected, a great many of the smugglers lived. The notion was intriguing, but, reluctantly, Elizabeth abandoned the plan. She had no idea when the church party would return from Seaford, and when they did, she wanted to be on hand to intercept the duke. She would not back out of the responsibility Dr. Wimple had placed on her reluctant shoulders.

Stopping only to provide herself with a spencer, she left her chamber to explore the castle. Since she had spent the first day cowering in her room because she could not decide whether she did or did not want to face Stenton, and the second day fast asleep in her bed, she had seen nothing of the castle but the Great Hall, the Crimson Drawing Room, and the dining room. She was sure a tour of exploration would be worth her while.

And who could tell? She might even encounter her ghost again.

She started with the rooms adjoining her own, which she knew to be unoccupied. She counted four sitting rooms; the rest were bedrooms, beautifully furnished, but none with a canopied fourposter as splendid as her own.

In two of the bed chambers she noted towels and pitchers of water set out by the wash stand and wondered if the duke expected still more visitors.

But the significance of the towels faded beside another discovery: every one of the chambers she had seen was wainscoted. And wainscoting with tiers and panels, with richly carved and bossed friezes, was perfect for the concealment of secret compartments and priest holes.

Elizabeth chuckled. Lady Fanny and Lady Harry, if they still planned to go treasure hunting, would have their work cut out for them. It could take
years
to find a hidden treasure in this place.

She reached the stairs marking the halfway point of the long hallway, the end of the east wing and the beginning of the south wing. Slowly, she walked past the stairs to the first door in the south wing. She gave the same cursory knock she had applied to all the doors and jumped almost out of her skin when a male voice impatiently bade her enter.

Stenton had
not
accompanied his guests to church.

This was so unexpected that she stood blinking at the wooden panel in front of her. She had wanted to see him, but this was too soon. And, lud, what if this was his bedchamber?

Before she had quite collected her wits, the door was jerked open.

“Elizabeth! I dared not hope to see you before luncheon.”

For a moment he stood motionless, letting his eyes roam over her face, assuring himself that she truly had suffered no harm.

“Are you quite recovered?”

“I am well, thank you.”

He opened the door wide. “Come and sit down.”

Stepping past him, she was absurdly relieved to note the bookcases lining the walls, the desk by the windows, and several easy chairs drawn up to the hearth. As though he’d have invited her to enter if she had indeed stumbled upon his bedchamber!

“I was exploring,” she told him. “I didn’t expect to find anyone at home, so if I’m intruding, pray do not hesitate to say so.”

“You’re not intruding.”

He settled her in a chair, then positioned his own so he could look straight at her. “I am glad we have this occasion to speak privately. There are certain questions I wish to put to you. In fact, I should have done so yesterday.”

Questions. An ominous word. Unconsciously, she stiffened her back. She had wanted the charade to end. She was ready for his questions.

“And what is it that you want to ask, your grace?”

He did not miss the brittle edge in her voice, the defensive posture.

“What have I said to make you go all prickly, Elizabeth? I’ve even sunk to your grace again. You called me Stenton yesterday, and I liked it just fine.”

“Did you?” It was difficult to smile under that suddenly watchful, guarded look. Indeed, she did not know what had caused the change in him. “Is that why you took the liberty of calling me by my first name?”

“My apologies. I could not ask your leave when I searched for you and found Miss Gore-Langton quite a mouthful to call out every twenty paces or so. Now, I’m afraid, it has become a habit impossible to break. Do you mind very much?”

“Not at all,” she said politely. If he wanted to question her, she wished he’d get it over with so that she could deliver Dr. Wimple’s warning and be gone.

Her wish was granted, at least a part of it. He sat forward suddenly. “Elizabeth, whom did you go to meet by the landing stage?”

“
What?
” It took her a moment to comprehend that the question had nothing to do with their former acquaintance.

“Come now! Don’t play the innocent. You had a tryst, didn’t you?”

She was torn between laughter and indignation. A tryst! How ridiculous. And how impertinent. But she’d forgive his impertinence since it gave her just the opening she needed.

“I daresay you think I went to meet a smuggler on your beach?”

“Yes.”

The bald confirmation took her aback. It was not at all what she had expected.

“Did you know, then, that free-traders use your landing stage?” she asked, incredulous. “I believed you unaware of the smuggling traffic.”

“I’d have to be as blind as a bat or extremely dull witted not to have noticed the path leading to the landing stage, or that the planks have been kept in excellent condition.”

“But if you know, why do you walk on the beach so much? And along the estuary?”

His eyes narrowed. “And how would you know what I do?”

“Your groom told me.” She leaned forward, saying earnestly, “Don’t you realize how dangerous it is to show too much interest? Especially now, when the moon is on the wane.”

“I realize that
you
are extremely well informed.”

“Naturally I am informed. I grew up near Lydd.”

He rose abruptly and went to the bookcase near his desk, where decanters and glasses were set out on one of the shelves. He stood in need of a drink, something to wash away the taste of bitterness in his mouth.

The towns of Lydd and nearby Rye were notorious for their involvement in smuggling activities. If that was where she grew up—

He checked his thoughts. Mustn’t jump to conclusions. Just because he knew she was hiding something didn’t mean she was hand-in-glove with smugglers and, worse, with French spies.

Carrying a glass of brandy for himself and sherry for Elizabeth, he returned to the fireplace.

He handed her the glass. “Do you know who hit you, Elizabeth?”

“No.”

“Yet, if he approached you from behind, wouldn’t you have heard footsteps on the planks?”

Her brow wrinkled in thought. “I should think so. But, I assure you, I heard nothing. If I had, I would have turned around and seen him. On the other hand, I was rather intrigued by the boat, and someone could have sneaked up on me if he took care not to make a sound.”

“The boat … you said it was a cutter. A revenue cutter.”

“Yes, that’s what I believed at the time. But preventive officers are not the only ones using the small, swift craft. I realize now that it must have been a smuggling vessel and, I daresay, it was one of the free-traders who gave me that bash on the head.”

He took a swig of brandy, rolling it in his mouth before swallowing. If she was hand-in-glove with the smugglers, she was doing a superb job of strewing sand in his eyes. She had almost convinced him that she simply happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

There was just one thing—he knew that it had not been a free-trader who assaulted her.

“Don’t go back to the beach,” he said curtly.

His tone made her bristle. “Is that an order?”

“Yes, Elizabeth, that is an order.”

“Then I wish you’d follow your own orders and stay away, too! At least for the next few nights.”

Again he tasted bitterness. “What do you know about the nights ahead, Elizabeth?”

“Gracious!” she said impatiently. “Every child on the coast knows that smugglers sail on moonless, cloudless nights.”

“But I did not grow up on the coast. That should excuse my ignorance.”

“It might, if you didn’t know about the free-traders. But you do know! And you assured me but a moment ago that you’re not dull witted.”

“
Touché
.” A gleam lit in his eye, but with a hint of steel in it. “I must request, however, that no matter what I do on my property
you
will restrict your movements to the castle yard and gardens.”

She opened her mouth to utter an indignant protest, but he continued in that same imperative tone of voice, “Or, if you feel the need for more exhilarating exercise, take one of the hacks and go riding. A groom will accompany you.”

“Thank you,” she said tartly. Had he always been so toplofty and overbearing? “You are very generous.”

“Not at all. There are a dozen horses in the stables, all eating their heads off and not getting any exercise.”

She set down her untouched glass and rose. Immediately, he got to his feet as well.

“You are not leaving so soon?”

She gave him a level look. “There’s no purpose to my staying since you’re unwilling to listen to advice.”

“And you?” His gaze held hers. “Would you heed it if I gave you a piece of advice?”

“But of course. If it is good counsel.”

“It is the best I can give, and it is quite for your own good.” He paused. “
Do not cross me, Elizabeth!
”

She was shaken, but said with admirable cool, “I don’t intend to, but
someone
will have to make certain you don’t come to harm.”

“What harm?” He frowned. Damn, but she could turn him upside down. “Elizabeth, I ask you once again. What do you know about the upcoming smuggling operation?”

“A great deal more than you do, I daresay. You were born and bred in London. You have no notion how dangerous the free-traders can be when they believe their livelihood threatened.”

“Are you afraid for my safety, then?”

“Is that so incredible?” Again his tone set up her hackles, which did not escape those keen gray eyes.

“No need to fly up into the boughs, Elizabeth. If you weren’t so dashed secretive about yourself, I might not find it quite so difficult to believe in your concern.”

Her face stung. Taking a deep breath, she made a quick decision.

“I shan’t pretend any longer that we have never met. But I cannot at the moment tell you of our previous encounters.”

“And why not?”

“Lud! Are you never done with questions?”

“Not until I have the answers.”

“I will tell you who I am as soon as …”

As soon as the wager was settled. How foolish that would sound! She’d bite her tongue before she’d explain Lord Nicholas and Juliette’s silly bet. But she had never excelled at evasion and found it difficult to gather her wits under that steady gaze.

She snapped, “I’ll explain as soon as I’m at liberty to do so.”

“I see.”

But he did not. He only had a new suspicion. Devil a bit! Could she be another Whitehall agent?

It wouldn’t be the first time that two government agents unbeknown to each other had been sent out on the same mission. A woman, however, in either of the Whitehall offices’ employ was rather unusual. But, then, Elizabeth was unusual. And intriguing.

He wondered if Chamberlain had seen Elizabeth. If she was an agent, Chamberlain might recognize her.

“Very well,” he said. “Play it your way. But in the meantime, rest assured that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, which is more than can be said for you.”

“You’re wrong. When it comes to smuggling, you’re not at all up to snuff, whereas
I
am.”