Compromised Miss (13 page)

Luke’s words were light and without inflection as she
weighed them. Regretwas there, a depth of it. Sincerity, too. A deep unhappiness at the very core. His eyes did not waver from hers, but held her, breath suspended, as if to impress the truth—however meagre it might be—on her mind.

‘Can you accept my word? My silence is not of my own making.’ Abandoning the remnants of the meal, Luke pushed back his chair and came round the table to her side. Taking her hands in his he lifted her to her feet. ‘It’s not spying. On my honour, it’s not. Nor is it treason, if that’s what worries you.’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘I know. But on my oath, Harriette, I will do nothing to put you in danger or destroy your good name. Have I not wed you to restore your reputation? I will do nothing to destroy it. Nor would I do anything to dishonour my own name or that of my family.’ His expression was stern; the grip of his hands tightened around her fingers as if he were unaware of their power, only slackening when she winced. ‘Do you believe me?’

‘Yes. I think I do,’ Harriette offered. But there was a frown in her eyes and that dangerous wedge remained driven between them.

He could not tell her the truth. Her heart was sore that he did not trust her enough with his secrets.

‘I will protect your honour and your name with my life. I swear it. All I can ask is that you will give me time.’ Turning her hands within his, he pressed his mouth to the soft inner skin of her wrists and then her palms.

And Harriette was seduced by Luke’s promise and the caress of his mouth against her skin. Time, yes. She could give him that. And his arms were strong, his shoulders broad, his words surely without deceit. Perhaps he would prove his innocence to her. Perhaps all her fears would be
smoothed away, flat and calm as a summer sea with nothing to hurt or destroy. Perhaps everything would be put to rights with patience and time, and a solution to whatever it was that drove Luke to dangerous scheming.

‘Will you put your trust in me, Harriette,’ he asked again, his lips now light against her fingers, ‘as you gave yourself into my care?You trusted me enough to wed me. I swear, I will never hurt you.’

He bent his head and took her mouth with his.

Voices, edged and insistent, broke the kiss. They both turned their heads, listening as the sounds grew louder, the slam of a door a sharp note. Running feet. Without warning or courtesy the door to the dining room was flung back to smack against the wall. Harriette recognised the intruder immediately. Tom, Alexander’s messenger, lurched to a halt on the threshold, slight chest heaving. His frightened eyes moved from Harriette to Luke, then back again as he gasped.

‘Excise, on the cliffs, Cap’n Harry. A party of dragoons. Headin’ this way. And the cutter’s lights’re in the bay. The
Ghost
’s ‘ere with ‘er cargo—three blue flashes been seen in the bay.’

Preventive officers! Disaster!

Harriette’s mind scrabbled to make decisions. The worst possible outcome on the worst possible night. What malicious turn of fate had sent the Revenue men hotfoot to Old Wincomlee on her wedding night? A decision was needed from her, as it was entirely possible for the noble Earl of Venmore and his bride to spend the night in the gaol at Lewes if the cargo was intercepted. She choked on a ripple of hysterical laughter. No time for that now. She found that her hands had tightened around Luke’s as if for support. But would he give it? She had no idea.

‘What do we do, Cap’n? Use the cellars?’

‘Yes. Tell Mr Alexander to come here. I’ll arrange it.’

Tom fled.

‘What are you going to do?’ Luke asked.

‘Solve the problem of Captain Rodmell and the Revenue men,’ Harriette replied without hesitation because she really had no choice. ‘Will you help me?’

‘Will we end up in gaol?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘What better way to spend our wedding night?’ The dry comment was not lost on her, but there was no fear in him, rather an unruffled acquiescence that impressed her. ‘What do you want me to do?’

So he would help her. She would find time to thank him later. But for now…‘It would be best to fire a beacon on the cliff top, but we’ve no time. Go up to the Tower Room, Luke. Can you find your way?You must close the shutters to block the light six times. Count slowly to ten in between each. The spotsman on
Lydyard’s Ghost
will see the warning. It should do the trick and he’ll know what to do. If he sees the warning, you’ll see six rapid flashes from a pistol in reply.’

‘I can do that.’ He was already on his way to the door. ‘And then?’

‘Can you find your way down to the kitchens? If I’m not there, Wiggins will tell you what’s afoot.’

‘And you?’

Her face was pale, her skin taut over her cheekbones. ‘We’ve a cargo of contraband to hide and the Gentlemen to keep safe.’

She turned to go through the door before him.

‘Wait.’ His outstretched hand touched her arm and she immediately stilled. ‘Is it dangerous for you?’

His eyes were dark and sombre. Harriette felt his concern like a warm cloak to wrap her safe from her fears. She managed a smile through her anxieties, placing her hand over his. ‘No. I hope we can come about. I’ll not consign you to a prison cell.’

‘Have a care, Harriette. I don’t choose to lose you just yet.’

The words hummed beneath her skin, through her veins as she sped towards the kitchens.

Luke carried out his instructions to the letter without bothering to consider what he had got himself into. Six slow gleams of light from the Tower Room. Followed, to his relief, by six brief flashes—presumably from the pan of an unloaded pistol—in reply. The warning given and received. By the time he found his way back down the stairs to the kitchens it was to join Wiggins, the two maids and his wife.

‘They’ve been warned,’ he murmured in Harriette’s ear, standing behind her, lightly holding her shoulders.

A brief smile of thanks angled up and back, but Harriette’s attention was elsewhere. ‘Now we wait.’

So they did. He drew her back closely against him, responding to the fierce protective instinct in his blood with her hair curling over his hands. Desire, all sharp claws, took him by the throat, ridiculously inappropriate desire for a woman he barely knew and with a cargo of contraband to dispose of, the Revenue men at their door. But she was warm under his hands, against his body, the scent of lavender bringing back a distant hazy memory of when he had lain under her hands, wounded and incapable. As Harriette moved against him, brushing his body with her own, his loins stirred and he drew in a breath, appalled at his lack of control.

‘Not long,’ she spoke softly, a hand raised to his in warning pressure, bringing him back to the present.

There it was. The shuffle of muffled hooves on cobbles. Whispered commands. The kitchen door into the courtyard was pushed back and a procession of men carrying barrels and bales and small casks began to make their way through the kitchen, down the steps into the cellar below. Stepping from his hold, Harriette nodded, wasting no words, to George Gadie who led them in.

To Luke’s inexperienced eye they worked silently, efficiently, professionally. Well drilled with an astonishing degree of discipline in the rapid disposal of the goods. They had done this before, many times, and Lydyard’s Pride was the key to it. A valuable base as a place of storage for illicit goods, as well as a source of a signal to the approaching vessel. Which perhaps explained Harriette’s inexplicable love for the old house, her determination to be here on this night of all nights. Luke stood and watched, having the sense to keep out of the way. Until the procession dwindled to a halt, ended, and George Gadie emerged from the cellar, a grin very evident.

‘All done, Cap’n.’

‘The ponies?’

‘Mr Alexander took them away. Best not to wait. They’ll be back with their owners by now and no one the wiser. Our luck’s in. No sign of the Excise yet.’ He wiped his sleeve across his face. ‘I’ll leave you, y’r honour, and your good lady—’ A thundering knock interrupted, probably from the stock of a rifle, echoing from the region of the front door. ‘That’s ‘em. Revenue men, damn ‘em!’

Instantly Harriette began issuing orders, Captain Harry in satin and lace. ‘Get yourself off home, George. It’s
Captain Rodmell, I expect. Wiggins, bring him up to the dining room. Announce him as if nothing has happened.’

‘Of course, my lady.’

Luke had no idea what Harriette intended when faced with a troop of dragoons and their officer, but her masterful command sent an answering excitement surging through his limbs and spurred him into action. Hers might be the experience in this crisis, but he could see a way that might help the outcome.

‘Jenny,’ he addressed the maid. ‘Fetch up a decanter of port and one of brandy to the dining room—and glasses.’ He smiled briefly at Harriette. ‘We can’t have the upholders of the law going away without hospitality, can we?’

Harriette laughed. ‘No, we can’t do that.’

The Earl and Countess of Venmore were seated in magnificent isolation at opposite ends of the dining table, the Earl in the act of raising a glass of brandy to his lips in a toast to his new wife. The candles had deliberately been placed to bathe Harriette in golden light, and cast Luke into shadow. Wiggins ushered in the Customs’ Riding Officer.

‘Captain Rodmell, my lady.’

The Captain, tall and spare, features tight at being thwarted of his victorious capture of a valuable cargo, launched into his accusation without apology, eyes fixed on Harriette as if he would prize the information from her. ‘Miss Lydyard. We have reason to suspect that a landing was made in this cove not two hours ago. The cargo has vanished, in the blink of an eye. I believe that these premises are being used for the storage of that contraband. I demand permission to search the house.’

Luke sipped the brandy, silent, watchful. So Harriette was already a suspect because of her name. How would she
respond? She looked a little startled, deliciously feminine and helpless. Would she carry it off? His pulse picked up its beat, his heart began to thud. He would allow her to dictate the order of events—for now.

‘Contraband here? I can’t believe it, sir,’ she responded. She rose to her feet and advanced to wards him, holding out one hand with impeccable grace.

‘It would not be the first time, I wager.’ Unable to resist without rank bad manners, the Captain took her hand and inclined his head curtly. ‘The inhabitants of Old Wincomlee have a reputation for illicit trade.’

‘As I am aware, Captain Rodmell.’ Amazingly compliant, artfully feminine. ‘Which fisherman does not eke out his livelihood with the odd barrel of brandy or bale of silk?’

‘Which you, Miss Lydyard, apparently condone.’

‘I may condone it, out of charity for their lack of means, but I know nothing of such goings-on, Captain. How should I?’

‘And I suppose you know nothing of the activities or identity of a Captain Harry Lydyard, either?’ The sneer was heavy. ‘Nor it is a matter of the odd barrel, the odd bale. I am not talking of small-scale smuggling here, madam.’

Harriette raised a delicate lace-edged handkerchief to her lips as if in some distress. ‘I know nothing of a landing here to help you in your search for these hardened criminals, Captain. It fills me with fear that such activities go on so near my own home. Nor, I regret, do I know the identity of this Captain Lydyard. He is no member of
my
family, I assure you. More like a local villain who has adopted our name to cover his tracks. I cannot imagine how he would dare. I advise you to speak with my brother, Sir Wallace, about it. He will help you in dragging him
before justice. Sir Wallace is a Justice of the Peace, you understand.’

‘Nor, I suppose,’ Captain Rodmell continued, flushed but determined to the end, ‘do you know of this house being used to escape the legal paying of taxation on certain imported goods?’

‘Certainly not, Captain. The Pride is not engaged in such an outrageous trade. I refute any such suggestion.’

‘A light is not shown from the Tower here on nights when a run is made?’

‘I know nothing of that, either. If it is so, it is not by my orders. I would have no truck with such activities, sir! How could you think it?’

Luke was astounded, and absurdly impressed, to see the spangle of tears on Harriette’s cheek.

‘But this is your house, madam, is it not? Which could make you guilty by association.’

‘Yes. It is mine. As for guilt…’ She dabbed at the tears.

Luke watched in continuing admiration. She was holding her own well, but perhaps now was the time for a little decisive intervention. He could turn the direction of this scene quickly and bring an end to any threat from Captain Rodmell. Quietly, he put down his glass and stood, drawing the Captain’s eye. This would now be guided to a satisfactory conclusion with his hands on the reins.

‘There is a need to clarify the matter.’ His voice held a nice bland of hauteur and irritation. ‘The house is mine, Captain.’

The Captain cast him a jaundiced eye, lip curling. Luke felt the urge to laugh. Rarely had he been so summed up, cast aside, written off as a mindless dandy with no thought but for his clothing and the quality of the brandy in his glass. ‘And you are, Sir? Not an inhabitant of Old Wincomlee, I presume.’

Luke drew on all his dignity and severe disapproval. ‘I am the Earl of Venmore. Today I married Miss Lydyard. Her property is therefore now mine. And you, Captain, are disturbing our wedding night with accusations for which, it seems to me, you have not one shred of evidence.’

The Captain looked discomfited, but not unduly so. ‘My apologies, my lord. But still there are rumours…It is my duty to investigate and without doubt a cargo has vanished from under our noses this night.’

‘I understand. You have my sympathy, Captain. But
I
have nothing to do with smuggling. Nor will I. Now if you would care to take your men and—’

But the Captain dug in his heels. ‘I’m not satisfied, my lord.’

Harriette interrupted. Shockingly. Horrifyingly. Luke felt his muscles tense, his heart pick up its beat. ‘Perhaps you would wish your men to search the cellars, Captain Rodmell. And the Tower Room. To put your mind at rest.’