“Smuggling,” Rob said.
He nodded. “Just so, my lord. I worked for Captain St. Claire for a time, but his jobs aren’t steady either.”
So there was a connection between those two as well. “Not such a good smuggler, then,” Rob observed, watching him.
Bascom’s head snapped up. “Captain St. Claire isn’t a smuggler, my lord. He’s a, that is he works for, well he has important things that need doing. Just not often enough for me. So, I asked Mrs. Catchpole whether she could find me a place. I thought if I impressed a visitor, he might take me off with him when he left.” He glanced at Rob.
The fellow couldn’t know how much, and how little, he’d confessed. “I can’t promise you further work, Bascom. That will be up to my sister. But I will be sure she knows how hard you’re trying.”
“Thank you, my lord,” he said with a grateful sigh.
“You check the lower floors,” Rob said. “I’ll check the upper.”
Bascom hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. “Very good, my lord.” He headed back down the stairs.
Rob climbed to the third story and followed the west wing to the end, mind sorting through possibilities. Could Bascom still be in league with smugglers? He’d had no choice in his father’s vocation, but he certainly hadn’t had to throw in his lot with St. Claire. And what was that muttered business about what St. Claire was really doing out on the Channel?
He paused at the end of the wing. The window there was lashed by rain, the drops melting down the glass like quicksilver. He touched the pane, and cold seeped into his fingers. Squinting, he made out the shapes of the nearest trees, gaunt against a smoke-colored sky, whipping back and forth.
He started down the crooked wing. The moaning was worse here because of the hollow space of a ballroom below, yet he was certain he heard someone snoring. Lord Featherstone perhaps? Or Donner. He grinned imagining his sister’s face when he informed her that her sweetheart sounded like a herd of cattle lowing.
In a moment between breath and moan, another sound whispered. Sobbing?
It seemed to be coming from the room where Hester and her mother were to sleep. Though he had promised himself he would not disturb her, nothing could have stopped him from easing open the door and peering inside.
Hester had been sitting on one of the upholstered chairs near the hearth, head in her hands. Her hair was down around her shoulders and glowing gold in the light of the coals. As the gleam from the corridor trickled into the room, she popped to her feet to fly to him.
“Oh, Rob, I’ve been so scared! Don’t leave me!”
“Never,” Rob vowed, folding her closer. Her spiced apple scent surrounded him; her trembling body warmed against his.
Oh, but his good intentions were being tested!
Chapter Sixteen
Rob’s arm pressed Hester close. His body, so firm and strong, warmed her through the nightgown. For a moment, she rested her head against his shoulder and just allowed herself to feel safe, protected, and cherished.
“There, now,” he murmured. “What frightened you so?”
“I heard a noise,” she admitted, pausing to inhale the spice of his cologne. “A terrible crash. I thought the roof might be peeling off.”
“I’ve seen no sign of that, thank the good Lord,” he told her. “The house seems to be holding together.”
As if to disagree with him, cracks and pops echoed down the corridor.
She burrowed closer. “I don’t remember anything this fierce. How can the others sleep?”
He turned his head, as if eyeing her mother on the tester bed. “I don’t know. I certainly couldn’t close my eyes.”
Neither could she, or only for a moment. With the strange house, the odd noises, concern for her daughter, and everything that had happened at the dinner party, her mind was teeming.
He shifted, and all at once she was aware of how near they stood. She pulled herself out of his embrace and smoothed down the nightgown.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
She thought she heard a chuckle over the whistle of the wind. “Afraid I make a habit of strolling into a lady guest’s bedchamber?”
Her cheeks grew quite warm indeed. Mindful of her mother, she pushed him out of the room and shut the door behind her.
“Do you make a habit of it?” she challenged.
In the lamp-lit corridor, she could see him clearly. That hair was even more tousled than usual. Her fingers positively itched to thread their way through it.
“No, alas,” he answered her with a rueful face. “Father wasn’t invited to house parties of that sort. And he wouldn’t have allowed me to attend others like it if I had been invited.”
Easy enough to say. “But there will be ladies waiting for you in London,” Hester guessed.
“Not waiting,” he insisted. “Lying in wait more like. Young, virile, wealthy, charming viscounts are in high demand, you know.”
Hester hid her smile. “Then you certainly don’t need me to fawn over you. Or them either, I imagine. You do it quite well enough on your own.”
“A palpable hit,” he said, touching his hand to his heart as if she had wounded him. “I could wish that you looked on me kindly, and not because you’re frightened by the wind.”
He looked so contrite, so proper, yet she could not forget the way he’d held her, as if she meant everything to him.
“Why did you invite me to dinner?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’m told that’s what a gentleman does when he’s interested in furthering his acquaintance with a lady.”
“Furthering my acquaintance?” She was surprised how inadequate that sounded. “Then we remain merely friends.”
He leaned closer, hazel eyes darkening. “Oh, Hester, I would like us to be so much more than friends, but I don’t think now is the best time to discuss it.”
With him looking at her that way, her standing in nothing but his sister’s nightgown, most likely not. Yet she needed to know.
“Now seems perfect to me,” she informed him. “There’s no one about to overhear. And neither of us appears to be sleeping.”
Below them came a crash that rattled against her toes.
She gasped. “What was that?”
His arms tightened just the slightest. “Have no concerns, Hester. I’ll see to the matter.”
He sounded so noble. It wasn’t hard to imagine him a valiant knight marching the halls to keep them all safe. But her hands reached out and clung to his arm.
“You promised not to leave me,” she reminded him.
He regarded her a moment, then nodded. “Come along, then. Let’s see what we can learn.”
“Let me fetch a blanket,” Hester said.
The few moments it took to find one of the extra blankets his staff had left her and her mother was enough for her to argue with herself. Walking the house in a nightgown with a gentleman? What was she thinking?
Well, she wasn’t likely to fall asleep for a while, and making sure the house was safe was at least a useful way to occupy her time and calm some of her fears.
And it wasn’t really a nightgown any longer. The thick wool blanket hid her curves as effectively as a winter cloak.
And it wasn’t a gentleman. It was Rob.
That alone made her consider staying in the room.
In the end, she joined him in the corridor in her stockinged feet, and they set out to the tune of snoring so fierce it almost drowned out the wind. She would not have thought it of the thoroughly refined Lord Featherstone.
The air swirling down the corridor set the lamps to sputtering against the dark-paneled walls, and the carpet was cold against her toes. Hester tucked the blanket closer. For once, Rob did not seem disposed to talk.
“You haven’t answered my question,” she pointed out.
He shot her a quick smile. “Sorry. I find myself thinking about the east wing. I can barely manage my staff. How am I to choose furnishings, wallpaper?”
Again he glanced her way. “Perhaps you could advise me.”
Pleasure warmed her more than the blanket. “I’d be delighted.”
They were nearing the end of the corridor and the window overlooking the Channel. Hester became aware of another noise—a rhythmic crash and roar.
“Is that the waves?” she asked.
Rob nodded. “The storm must be forcing them against the cliff.”
She could only hope they would not reach so high as the house.
Just then, something flashed from the window. Thunder followed—deep and long—until the house reverberated with it.
“Nothing like a good lightning storm,” Rob said rather gleefully when it quieted again.
“If you say it’s exciting, I will scream,” Hester vowed.
He chuckled. “Very well. I won’t say it. But we both know I’m thinking it.”
The lightning flashed again. This time she saw the zagged bolt plunge for the sea, illuminating all around it. As the light faded, Rob frowned.
“Was that a ship off the promontory?” Hester asked, blinking away the brightness.
“If it was, it won’t come in,” he predicted. “Such a driving tide would force any ship against the cliff. But at least the light showed me the reason for the crash we heard. A tree’s come down near the entrance to the ballroom. We’ll see to it in the morning. Let’s get you back to bed.”
It was an abrupt end to their walk, but he was right. They had solved the mystery of the crash. Still, she stayed close to his side as they started back to her room. The thunder rumbled through the house again, setting her to shivering. She clutched the blanket tight.
“Rebecca hates thunder,” she said as they neared her door. “She says it makes her feel small.”
“It makes all of us feel small,” Rob said, stopping before her door. “I had no idea this storm was coming, but I’m sorry for separating you from your daughter at a time like this, Hester. I promise you, we’ll go to her as soon as the roads allow in the morning.”
She would have to take solace in that.
He glanced both ways along the corridor as she put her hand on the door.
“I’m not sure this walk was any help,” he said. “A nocturnal stroll through haunted corridors isn’t conducive to a good night’s sleep.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” she teased.
He snorted. “Only the ghosts of my past, which seem determined to sneak up on me.”
“They have no call,” she said. “You’ve changed, Rob. I can see it. You’re steadier now, more dependable. You have proven others can count on you, that you will be there, come what may.”
His gaze fell on her, full and sure. “I left you before, Hester, without a backward glance. But I promise you, I’ve thought on that summer so many times over the years, wishing things had ended differently. Thank you for this second chance.”
A second chance. A hope for a future. “I’m glad you wanted to further my acquaintance,” she murmured.
Once more he bent and brushed her cheek with his lips. It was far from the first time he’d stolen a kiss, but the touch shook her.
“Good night, Hester,” he said as he straightened.
Heart full, she nodded. “Good night, Rob.”
~~~
As soon as the door shut behind Hester, Rob turned and strode across the corridor to rap on the door of the room Donner and Lord Featherstone were sharing. The snoring shut off immediately. A moment later, and Donner answered his knock.
“My lord?” he asked with a frown.
“There’s a ship off the headland,” Rob said. “The captain may be the fellow you’ve been seeking. I don’t know whether he’ll attempt to come in when the storm has passed, but get dressed, and keep watch with me.”
“At once,” Donner promised.
Rob paced up and down, pausing only a moment to listen. The house had gone silent, as if everything had suddenly fallen asleep. Was the storm over, then? Or merely gathering strength before pounding the promontory anew?
Donner opened the door again, now fully dressed. So was the older baron at his side.
“Donner tells me we may have trouble,” Lord Featherstone said as they stepped out into the corridor. “How might I be of assistance?”
“Smugglers may be coming in,” Rob advised. “Though it’s possible the storm drove them off course from some other landing along the coast, and they’ll return to it instead.”
“But you suspect they intend to land at the Lodge,” Donner said, as if hoping that would be the case.
Rob nodded. “And be warned that I am unsure of my footman, Bascom. He may be involved. We must rely only on ourselves.”
Together, they moved down the corridor for the stairs. The lamplight cast a golden glow, but a dozen brigands could have been hiding in the shadows. Donner kept glancing around as if he feared as much.
“I’d like to check each external door and the windows on the ground floor,” Rob told his tense companions. “Then we’ll watch from the green withdrawing room to see what that ship does.”
“Should we notify the authorities?” Lord Featherstone asked as they started down the stairs.
Donner cast Rob a look and shook his head. He needn’t have worried that Rob was about to betray the fellow’s doubts concerning the magistrate.
“I fear no one could come to our aid in the middle of this storm,” he told them both. “Nor could my staff reach the village safely to request assistance. We must defend ourselves, if it comes to that.”
They reached the entry hall without seeing another soul. Rob rattled the latches on the front door.
“Locked,” he reported. “The other entrances are on the lower level.”
Donner and the baron followed as he continued down the stairs for the ground floor. Where was Bascom? Surely he hadn’t gone outside in the storm to signal the ship. Yet why hadn’t he checked in with Rob again? Didn’t he hear Rob and his companions wandering about? It was as if he, Donner, and Lord Featherstone were the only people in all the sprawling manor house.
They reached the ground floor and the dining room. A single candle still burned, leaving most of the long room nothing but a hollow of darkness.
“I latched the doors to the rear yard myself after they blew open at dinner,” Rob said. “But we’d be remiss not to confirm they’re still secured.”
“Allow me.” Donner pushed past Rob to head down the table. A thump and a muffled oath told him the intelligence agent had collided with something in the dark. Then he heard the latches clicking.
“Locked,” Donner called. “But I can see a bit of yard through the glass. You’re right—tree limbs and debris everywhere. Wait. Someone’s out there!”
Rob seized one of the silver candelabra from the table and weighed it in his hand. “That ought to dent a head nicely.”
“Indeed,” Lord Featherstone said, taking up the other candelabra in one hand and the lit candle in the other. Together, they advanced toward the door. Rob raised the candelabra like a club and nodded to Donner, who flung open the door, splashing rain all about.
“Who’s there?” Rob demanded. “Show yourself.”
His watchman, Mr. Chalder, stepped into the light, wrinkled face slick with water. Rain streamed down from the cap on his head and darkened the shoulders of his wool coat. It gleamed on his boots where the black leather wasn’t crusted with mud and leaves.
“Sorry, my lord,” he said, lowering his head as if ashamed as water dripped from his lips. “It’s not a fit night for man nor beast, but I thought I should do my duty.”
Rob lowered the silver. “I applaud you for your tenacity. Why don’t you come ins
ide for now?”
Again, he bobbed his head. “Thank you, my lord.”
Feeling foolish, Rob ducked back into the dining room. Donner, Lord Featherstone, and Chalder followed.
“The fire in the kitchen should only be banked,” Rob advised the watchman, tipping his head toward the servant’s door to the kitchen addition. “Stoke it up, and dry yourself off. If anyone gives you trouble, tell them to find me. And make sure the kitchen door is secured.”
“Yes, my lord.” He shuffled over to the door and disappeared down the short corridor.
Rob and Lord Featherstone returned the candelabra to their places on the long table, then retreated with Donner to the withdrawing room overlooking the Channel, stopping only long enough to retrieve a spyglass from the study. For the next few hours, the three of them took turns peering out, as the view turned from black to a smudged grey with a rising moon. The last of the storm scurried across the sea toward France. The trees stopped their frantic dancing. All grew still again.
Donner drew in a deep breath and lowered the glass to hand it to Rob. “It seems the Lodge will survive, my lord.”
“In some shape,” Lord Featherstone agreed, standing by the window and gazing down at the debris-cluttered yard.
“I’ll have to see to the east wing,” Rob acknowledged, squinting through the eyepiece. The waves came into view, still choppy and capped in silver in the moonlight. They splashed against the bow of the sailing ship that had appeared around the headland.
Was someone heading for his pier after all?
Chapter Seventeen
Hester wasn’t sure she’d slept. One moment she was lying beside her mother, listening to the wind, and the next she was opening her eyes to stillness. Slipping out from under the covers, she padded to the window.
“Oh, is it morning?” her mother asked from the bed.
Hester pulled open the drapes and cracked the shutters. Moonlight picked out trees canted and toppled. “Not yet. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
She turned to find her mother sitting up in the bed. “At least that horrid storm is over. This is a very fine bed, but I prefer my own, and I’m sure you’re eager to see Rebecca.”
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