“Well,” her mother said, turning a pleased pink, “I certainly won’t be the last. Please, have a seat. Tea should be here shortly.”
Elizabeth sat on the sofa beside Hester’s mother, but Rob could not seem to decide where to land. He moved from the wood-wrapped hearth to the curtained window and back to the sofa.
A clatter on the stairs warned Hester a moment before Rebecca burst into the room. “Mama!”
She caught her as her daughter careened into her. “Rebecca, we have company. Please greet Lord Peverell and his sister.”
Her daughter turned dutifully, though she pressed herself back into Hester’s skirts. “Thank you for coming to see us, Lord Peverell, Miss Peverell. I hope you are well.”
Rob came around the sofa to smile at her. “Quite well. And you?”
“Tolerable,” Rebecca allowed, and Hester had to hide a grin at the big word.
As her mother smiled, Elizabeth edged over and patted the sofa beside her. “Why don’t you sit by me, Miss Todd, while we wait for tea?”
“She called me Miss Todd,” Rebecca whispered with a giggle to Hester.
“And you should answer her,” Hester reminded her.
Rebecca raised her chin and minced across the room to push herself up onto the sofa. “Don’t mind if I do, Miss Peverell.”
The housemaid came in then with a plate of biscuits. She must have enlisted Ike’s help, for he carried a tray with the tea and cups. Her mother began dispensing the brew. Rob finally consented to sit near Hester on one of the armchairs.
“Did you enjoy the shops, Miss Peverell?” her mother asked as the plate of biscuits began making its rounds. Rebecca watched the progress, and Hester watched Rebecca.
“They were delightful,” Elizabeth said. “Do you have a favorite?”
“All the Colors of the Sea,” her mother admitted. “I’m very fond of the tatted collars.” She fingered the knotwork at her neck as if to prove it.
Oh, but Hester knew where this was going. Before she could think of a way to steer the conversation in another direction, Elizabeth took the bait.
“Oh, that is lovely. A local tatter, I take it?”
“Indeed,” her mother said with a proud smile. “Hester makes them to raise money for the dame school.”
“Does she indeed?” Now Rob’s smile was nearly as proud.
“I do,” Hester told him defensively.
Elizabeth leaned closer to Rebecca. “Perhaps you and your grandmother could help me decide what type of collar would look best on me.”
“A pink one,” Rebecca said. “I like pink.”
“So do I,” Elizabeth assured her, and all at once the three of them had their heads together.
Colluding again.
Hester cast Rob an apologetic smile, and he winked at her. She made herself sip her tea. Why was she finding it so difficult to spend a moment alone with him? She had once enjoyed listening to him. He could spin a tale better than anyone, until you were certain he believed it too. If he ever grew as fanciful as Aunt Maudie, they were all in trouble.
“What are your plans for the future?” she asked, hoping to get him started.
He stretched out his long legs until his toes brushed hers. “Elizabeth and I will be here for a time, as she noted to you. I thought the quiet here would do us good.”
“It is quiet,” Hester agreed. “But I was under the impression you didn’t like quiet.”
He studied the toe of his boot as it swung against her skirts. “I have come to value it, in the right amounts.” He shot her a grin. “Not that I’m opposed to excitement, mind you.”
Now, that was the Rob she knew. “And what excites you now?”
“You.”
She sloshed the tea and just managed to level the cup before she spilled on her gown. She could not look at him.
“You should not say such things to me,” she whispered, mindful of her mother, Elizabeth, and Rebecca across the room. “I won’t be your entertainment this time.”
His foot withdrew. “No, of course not. Forgive me. That wasn’t what I meant. Your company has brightened a time when Elizabeth and I struggle to find our way out of the darkness. I had hope the three of us might be friends. I could use a friend now.”
She chanced a glance at him and found his head down, hair curling toward his cheek. He looked so sad, so lost.
“In truth, I could use a friend as well,” she said.
“Friends, then,” he replied, but she was certain she heard the words for now.
Chapter Eight
Rob could only be pleased as he and Elizabeth headed for home at last. Not only had he helped his fellow landowner, and the local shops, but Hester was warming to him. He could see it in the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, hear it in the approval in her voice. Friends, she’d said, with a gentle smile that made him hope for more. Perhaps he had a chance of rekindling their relationship.
He frowned as the coach headed for the Lodge. Wasn’t he doing all this from a desire to atone, to prove to himself he was a changed man? When had atonement become hope? He wasn’t sure his father would have approved of Hester as the wife of his second son. Others would be sure to question her appropriateness for the bride of a viscount. If he pursued her, would he be subjecting her to criticism?
“You’re rather Friday-faced after such a pleasant afternoon,” Elizabeth said from across the coach. “I thought you and Hester were getting on well.”
“Quite well,” Rob agreed, turning to face his sister. “But then, we always did.”
“And that gives you such a prodigious frown?”
Rob chuckled. “I wasn’t aware I was capable of prodigious frowns.”
“I wish I had a mirror. It is quite prodigious.”
He made a show of wiggling his brows, his nose, and his mouth all at once. “Better?”
Elizabeth laughed. “No! You’ve only made it worse.”
“Well, then, I suppose I should be glad you’re the only one to see it.”
Her look dimmed. “I can think of three others who would have enjoyed it as much.”
So could he. “They will always be with us, Elizabeth. But they would want us to be happy.”
She sighed. “I know. And I’m trying. Truly. All seems bright and good, and then I remember.”
He reached across and held her hand a moment. “I know. But I am told it will get better with time.”
She nodded and gave him a shadow of a smile.
He did not see a smile again until Mr. Donner came calling late Monday morning, putting Rob in the position of playing chaperone.
It was the oddest feeling, being in their mother’s favorite withdrawing room overlooking the Channel while Donner and Elizabeth sat on the striped sofa and made polite conversation. His presence had usually been the cause of a lady needing a chaperone. And Mother normally played that role with Elizabeth.
He could feel her presence even now. She’d had the room redecorated in pale greens and warm rose, and he almost fancied he could catch a glimpse of her reflection in the massive, gilt-framed mirror over the white marble hearth.
“Perhaps, if the weather holds, we might take a drive along the coast road,” Donner was suggesting now. The tight set to his shoulders and the way his feet shifted on the leafy pattern of the Aubusson carpet said how badly he wanted Rob’s sister to agree.
“I think that would be lovely, Mr. Donner,” she replied, gaze on her hands, folded in the lap of her grey poplin gown.
Donner’s grin lit the room. “I’ll enquire of Mr. Josephs at the livery stable about a gig.”
Rob stirred himself. “Perhaps something a bit larger. So there’s room for Elizabeth’s maid.”
Elizabeth shot him a dark look before smiling at Donner. “Or my brother. Rob loves riding in carriages.”
Wretch. She knew he far preferred horseback. Thomas had never let Rob forget the two times he’d ridden in the backward-facing seat on the way to their country house in Wiltshir
e and they had had to stop the coach so Rob could be sick.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Donner said. “I intended to invite you to join us, my lord.”
Of course he had.
Rob settled in the high-backed upholstered chair, trying not to drum his fingers on the dark-wood arms, and watched Elizabeth and her would-be swain discuss inanities as if they feared delving into anything of substance would shackle themselves to each other. Did he and Hester look like that now? What he wouldn’t give for the camaraderie they’d once shared. They could laugh easily, talk readily. Well, about everything except their true identities. Was this cautious stiffness any better?
Donner stood and bowed over Elizabeth’s hand, and Rob realized the fellow was taking his leave. As Rob stood too, Donner looked his way, face once more tight.
“Might I have a private word, my lord, before I go?”
Behind Donner’s back, Elizabeth shook her head hard. Rob had the same thought. The fellow could not be asking for the right to propose so soon. He’d spoken to Elizabeth no more than three times since being introduced. What, was he a fortune hunter?
That frown his sister called prodigious must have appeared on his face, for Donner paled.
“Certainly, sir,” Rob said. “Elizabeth, if you would leave us a moment.”
His sister rose and gave Donner a polite smile before crossing in front of him. Her gaze met Rob’s, pointed. She needn’t have worried. He had no intention of turning her over to a stranger. Few were in his father’s league for dispensing stern words to suitors, but Rob would do what he must to protect his sister.
Donner followed her to the door, then shut it, and Rob tensed further.
“Is there some need for secrecy, sir?” he demanded as Donner passed him again.
He thought the fellow would resume his seat on the sofa, but the bounder had the audacity to move to the window and draw the drapes!
“Forgive me, my lord,” he said, as if that could erase the high-handed offense. “But I will take no chances that our conversation is seen or overheard.”
Rob raised a brow as Donner turned to face him. “Is there some reason your pursuit of my sister must be a state secret?” he asked.
Donner flamed. “I am not pursuing your sister. That is,” he hurried on when Rob narrowed his eyes at him, “I would be beyond delighted if your sister were to return half the admiration I feel for her. But my purpose in calling today was for a moment of your time.”
Rob crossed his arms over his chest. “Why?”
Donner reached into his dove grey morning coat, removed a folded piece of parchment, and held it out to him. “I am an agent of the War Office, sent to Grace-by-the-Sea to ferret out a smuggling ring connected to our enemies in France.”
Rob accepted the parchment and gave it a quick read. The letter from the War Office seemed official, down to its Royal seal and lordly signature, but such things could have been fabricated.
“Will the Earl of Howland and Mr. Howland, the magistrate, vouch for you?” Rob asked him, handing back the letter.
Donner shook his head as he accepted it. “No. Neither knows my true purpose. I was advised not to trust either of them, nor the Riding Surveyor, Mr. Denby.”
Denby? That must be Hester’s brother. Rob couldn’t help his chuckle. “And you were advised to trust me? I fear for the war effort.”
The so-called agent frowned. “Your father and brother were staunch supporters of Mr. Pitt and the King.”
“They certainly were,” Rob agreed. “But I have more in common with our charming Heir Apparent than his father.”
Donner’s frown only grew. “Then you refuse to help?”
“I didn’t say that.” Rob sat and nodded Donner back onto the sofa. “I am Viscount Peverell now. Of course I will do my duty. I’m merely surprised that you doubt the same would be said of the Howlands or Mr. Denby.”
Donner leaned back on the sofa. “I’m more saddened than surprised. Mr. Denby has done well enough surveying the area, but the incidents continue. We have evidence to suggest that the previous Earl of Howland actively supported local smugglers known to have ties to France. We therefore cannot be certain of his son. And there have been too many oddities in recent months for me to feel comfortable enlisting the aid of the magistrate.”
“Oddities?” Rob pressed. “Such as?”
Donner rubbed a hand along his breeches. “Recently, Doctor Bennett and his wife captured a French agent masquerading as a visiting physician at the spa.”
“Doctor Bennett captured the fellow?” Rob interrupted. “On your orders?”
Donner colored. “Not exactly. I had suspected there were spies about, but Owens was a master of disguise.”
Not so much a master that the amateur physician and his wife had mistaken him, but Rob decided not to rub salt in the agent’s wound.
“We also had a scare when a ship flying French colors sailed into the annual regatta in August and prompted an evacuation,” Donner continued undaunted. “Your steward will have alerted you that most of the village used your house as shelter.”
Funny that Mercer hadn’t seen fit to mention that. Rob inclined his head but promised himself he would ask his steward about the matter.
“And,” Donner added, “before I arrived, we were advised that a French sympathizer had been caught intercepting notes passed by a mysterious fellow calling himself the Lord of the Smugglers. He apparently had access to Castle How when it was empty.”
Rob stiffened. “Did you hear of such things happening here at the Lodge?”
“Not notes,” Donner assured him. “We have no reason to believe your home is in danger. We are more interested in the pier below the Lodge.”
“We’ve had the same concerns,” Rob told him. “Elizabeth and I saw a blue flash the other night, as if smugglers were attempting to come in. I sent word to my steward to hire a night watchman, but I have not been informed of anyone on the grounds or the pier.”
Donner leaned forward. “Yet. I have no doubt your pier will prove too tempting. Until now, the caves beneath Castle How on the other headland have been the focus of all activity. When Miss Denby discovered her crocodile on the cliffs near the cave’s entrance from the sea, she doomed that area to interest from visitors. Now there are too many people about to make it a safe landing area, whatever time of day.”
“The Dragon’s Maw,” Rob remembered. “I’ve heard the old stories. The opening can only be navigated at the turn of the tide and could keep a ship stranded until the tide turns again.”
“Making your pier entirely too useful to forego, particularly by this so-called Lord of the Smugglers,” Donner told him. “We have reason to believe more than lace and champagne comes in with his shipments, and he carries our secrets to France. I expect he may contact you, request the use of your pier, perhaps your cellars to store his ill-gotten goods until he can safely move them inland. A dram for the lord, you know.”
Once he would have jumped at the chance. Duty-free champagne and fine Alençon lace for allowing the use of his facilities? What a bargain. What an adventure.
“What do you want from me?” Rob asked, watching Donner.
The fellow’s grey eyes kindled. “When the smugglers approach you, agree to as much as you feel comfortable and learn all that you can. Then, tell me, and, I promise you, the War Office will pounce and stop this fiend once and for all.”
It was dangerous. Donner had obviously failed in the past. Rob might not be able to count on the War Office to do its part.
But lack of support for his audacious deeds—whether his father or the government—had never stopped him before.
He snapped a nod. “Count on me, Mr. Donner. But do not involve my sister further. She’s been through a great deal recently. I will not have her heart broken by a fictitious romance.”
Donner colored once more. Truly, the fellow had no ability for subterfuge. “I assure you my intentions toward your sister are honorable. I would be the most fortu
nate man alive to be allowed to pay my respects. But I am aware of the gulf between our stations.”
“Good,” Rob said, for all he didn’t care about that gulf. “See that you remember that and treat her accordingly. Now, how do you suggest I go about making the acquaintance of the Lord of the Smugglers?”
~~~
Hester could only be glad that Monday was to be a blur of activity. She must teach at the school, then rush home to help her mother with preparations for Rosemary’s wedding on Thursday. Surely all that would keep her mind off Rob.
It didn’t.
She thought of him as she and Rebecca trudged to the school through the crisp autumn morning. Because of his generosity, they would soon have a hearth to warm the building. One less excuse for her more-reluctant students to stay away. One more reason to be thankful.
After school, she and Rebecca went to try on their new dresses. The seamstress in Upper Grace had used her and Rebecca’s previous measurements to create new gowns for the wedding, as Hester and her daughter were to be Rosemary’s attendants. Her mother also had a new gown.
“I’m sure there will be a few tucks needed,” she fussed as the seamstress moved around her, eyeing the purple material.
“Or perhaps a seam or hem let out,” Hester said with a smile at her daughter.
Rebecca wiggled a little as she regarded herself in the Pier glass mirror in the corner of the shop.
“I look pretty,” she said.
“You always look pretty,” Hester assured her, “but that rosy color does favor you.”
Rebecca swished the silky skirt from side to side. “Can we make one for Esmeralda too?”
Hester glanced to the wooden doll regarding them with its painted eyes from a chair across the room. She’d allowed Rebecca to bring it to keep herself entertained, if needed.
“The fabric is too dear,” she explained to her daughter, “but I’ll see if we have anything this color in the trimmings bag at home.”
“I wish I could take her to the wedding,” Rebecca said with a look to Hester as the seamstress began to pin up her mother’s hem.
“You will be far too busy at the wedding to play with Esmeralda,” Hester told her, starting to unfasten the back of the gown before her daughter could wrinkle it. “But you can tell her all about it when you get home.”
The Lady's Second-Chance Suitor Page 8
