The Lady's Second-Chance Suitor

by Scott, Regina

  “I am,” Hester admitted, coming back to her. “It must be close to dawn. Would you mind getting dressed now so we can leave as soon as the carriage is ready?”

  Her mother agreed, and they lit a lamp and helped each other back into their gowns from the night before. The maid had draped them over a chest, so there were only a few wrinkles.

  “Best we can do under such trying circumstances,” her mother said with a sigh. “At least let me fix your hair.”

  Rob hadn’t minded her hair down last night. She’d caught him eyeing it a time or two, as if he wondered how it would feel between his fingers. She sat down in front of the dressing table and wasn’t surprised to find her cheeks turning pink.

  A maid poked her head in just as Hester’s mother finished putting in the last hairpin. The woman started at the sight of them. “You too?”

  “Are the others up then?” Hester asked, rising from the dressing table.

  “Miss Peverell, his lordship, the gentlemen,” the maid said. “They’re all in the green withdrawing room.”

  Hester and her mother found them there a short while later, all clustered around the window, which showed the pink bloom of dawn. Only Rob’s sister was wearing something different than the night before.

  “What’s happened?” Hester’s mother asked, venturing closer.

  Rob immediately turned and shoved a spyglass at Mr. Donner, who fumbled to hold it against his waistcoat. “Nothing of any concern,” he assured her with a smile that was far too bright. “I’ll wager you’re ready to head for home. I’ll have the carriage brought around immediately.”

  Much as she longed to return to Rebecca, Hester could not shake the feeling he was rushing them.

  “It looked to me that more than one tree was down,” she allowed. “Can the carriage get through to Upper Grace?”

  “No better time to find out,” Rob said cheerily.

  Elizabeth must have taken the spyglass from Mr. Donner, for she turned from the view with it in her hands. “There’s no time, Rob. They’ll be here too soon.”

  “Who?” Hester asked, even as Rob closed his eyes a moment as if saying a prayer.

  Everyone looked to him. He nodded as if making a decision.

  “A ship docked at our pier,” he told her. “We don’t know why.”

  Hester sucked in a breath. “Smugglers?”

  “Right you are, missy,” a voice behind them answered.

  Hester turned with the others to find a heavy-set fellow standing in the doorway, cap pulled down over a fringe of iron-grey hair. His eyes were bloodshot, and stubble covered his bulbous chin. Far more menacing, however, was the pistol he held in one grip.

  “Chalder?” Rob said, positioning himself in front of Hester. “What are you doing?”

  “My job,” he said. “My real job.”

  Mr. Donner darted forward. “You’re a spy.”

  Hester edged around Rob in time to see Chalder draw himself up. “I am not. I’m a lander, like my father before me, and a good one. Neither of us was ever caught.”

  “I don’t understand,” Elizabeth put in. “What’s a lander? Are you helping the smugglers?”

  “I lead the smugglers,” he informed her, head up with pride. “Leastwise, on land. It’s my job to round up trustworthy types to carry the goods inland, away from the Preventers like our new Riding Surveyor. I call the tune as to when a ship may come in and how fast it’s emptied.”

  “I suppose I’ll find a blue spout lantern in my shed,” Rob said, “suitable for signaling ships at sea.”

  “You’ll find more than that if you look right now,” Chalder told him. “I’ve a crew waiting to unload this ship and fill her with the information she’ll carry back to France.”

  Donner stiffened.

  “St. Claire or Ruggins?” Rob asked.

  “Surely not Captain St. Claire,” her mother protested.

  Hester and Rosemary were among the few women who didn’t favor the handsome formal naval officer. Still, she could not see him taking England’s secrets to France.

  Neither could Mr. Chalder, apparently, for he shook his head. “We have no business with the good captain, but that’s all I’ll say on the matter. Bad enough you had to see me.”

  “So what do you want from us, my good man?” Lord Featherstone put in. “I’m sure if it’s a ransom you’re after, our host can oblige.”

  “Always happy to support a worthy cause,” Rob said, but the tone belied his words.

  “We don’t need your gold,” the fellow spat out. “You wouldn’t have even known we were here but for that storm. Now that the ship’s come in, we’ll commence unloading. Give us no trouble, and you can dine on the story for months. Decide to play the hero, and you’ll be attending your own funeral instead.” He cocked the pistol and leveled it at them. “Understand?”

  Her mother, Elizabeth, Donner, and Lord Featherstone nodded. Rob merely eyed him as if he were a glob of mud spoiling the shine on his favorite pair of boots. Hester managed to catch his eye and shook her head just the slightest. The resolution in his gaze didn’t waver.

  “One of my men is holding most of your staff in the kitchen,” Chalder warned. “Another has your coachman and his helpers in the stables, and a third is gathering up strays and then will come watch you lot. So long as you stay in this room, no harm will come to you. You’ll know we’ve gone when you see the ship pulling away from the pier. Now, make yourselves comfortable.”

  No one moved.

  He took another step into the room and pointed the gun at Rob. “Sit.”

  Elizabeth and Hester’s mother hurried to perch on the sofa, and Mr. Donner and Lord Featherstone took up places on the chairs nearby. Still Rob stared the villain down, gaze mutinous. Her heart shouted a warning.

  “Rob, please,” she said as calmly as she could, taking a seat near her mother. “You promised me you’d changed.”

  He shuddered as if she’d struck him with a lash, but he flipped up his coattails and sank onto the chair by the hearth.

  “Smart fellow,” Chalder said. “Listen to your lady. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.”

  Rob glared at him. “So much as touch her, and you’re a dead man.”

  Chalder’s gaze raked over her, cold as winter rain. Hester refused to gratify him with a shiver.

  “Oh, you have nothing to fear from me, my lord,” he said. “But I can’t speak for the sailors on that ship. Rough types, they be. So, unless you want something to happen to any of these lovely ladies, you’ll stay in your seat and learn patience.”

  ~~~

  Patience, the villain said. Rob’s Achilles’ heel. His wealth, status, and charm had meant he seldom had to wait. But he would do nothing now that might lead to Hester being harmed. He kept his mouth shut as Chalder backed from the room, then counted the seconds as the fellow’s boots thumped down the stairs.

  “Rob?” Elizabeth whispered, as if she had been listening too. “What shall we do?”

  “Nothing,” Mrs. Denby answered, glancing between him and Hester. “You heard the man. If we do not allow them to have their way, someone may be hurt.”

  The words stabbed him. Was this what it meant to be the viscount? To look the other way while evil triumphed because doing otherwise might be inconvenient? Yet, it wasn’t just his inconvenience. He must think of Hester, Elizabeth, and the others.

  “Mrs. Denby is correct,” he made himself say. “Much as I would like to see these smugglers caught, we will remain in this room until we’re certain they’ve gone.”

  Elizabeth’s frown said she was disappointed in him. He was disappointed in himself.

  Donner went further. “You may have to wait, my lord,” he said, pushing out of the chair, “but I made no such promise. This is what we’ve been expecting. I intend to act.”

  Elizabeth turned her frown on him. “William? What are you talking about?”

  Rob shook his head at the intelligence agent, but Donner was apparently too
caught up in the opportunity to pay him any regard.

  “Forgive me, Miss Peverell,” the intelligence agent said, snatching up the spyglass from where she had positioned it on the table next to the sofa. “I’m an intelligence agent for the War Office. I asked your brother to play along with the smugglers so we could capture their leader.”

  Now Hester was frowning, but at Rob. “Play along? You can’t have been aiding these people.”

  “No,” Rob assured her. “I offered Captain St. Claire the use of my pier, but no one’s approached it until now.”

  “I find myself confused,” Elizabeth said, in a tone that made Rob fight a shiver. “Was this the reason you found it necessary to visit the Lodge so frequently, Mr. Donner?”

  Donner must not have noticed she’d stopped using his first name, for he positioned the spyglass at his eye as if he had far more important matters to attend to. “Of course.”

  “I knew it!” Elizabeth jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at Rob. “I knew he was up to something, and this proves it. I told you he was interesting.”

  Rob couldn’t help his chuckle. “Yes, you did. I’m glad to hear that was the extent of your involvement with the fellow.”

  She glanced toward Donner, who remained oblivious. “I believe it was. A shame, actually. He isn’t very good at his job if I could ferret him out that easily.” She approached Donner and pried the spyglass from his fingers.

  Donner stared at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Returning this to someone who knows what he’s about,” Elizabeth told him. She brought the spyglass to Rob and handed it to him, then returned to her seat on the sofa, smile pleased.

  Rob rose and went to join Donner by the window. The intelligence agent alternated between frowning and glancing at Elizabeth as reproachfully as a pup denied his favorite toy.

  “I did advise you she would not take well to your attentions,” Rob reminded him, raising the glass to his eye.

  “Yes, well, you appear to have been right,” Donner allowed. He squared his shoulders. “What do you see?”

  Rob counted the men crossing his lawn. “Most of the sailors seem to have stayed at the pier or perhaps formed a chain up to the headland. Two wagons and their horses have appeared. I don’t want to know how the inside of my shed looks if they’ve been holed up in it all night.”

  He felt Donner brush past as if to peer out the window himself. “Tubs—that’s brandy. And those boxes are probably lace.” His voice trembled with outrage.

  Rob lowered the spyglass. “If that’s the extent of their perfidy, Donner, be glad for it.”

  “It won’t be.” Donner turned from the view. “You heard Chalder. They intend to take information to France, likely information on England’s defenses. We could lose the war from this very pier!”

  Protests rang out around them.

  “No!” Mrs. Denby cried.

  “Not while I live,” Lord Featherstone declared.

  “Rob, you cannot allow it,” Elizabeth insisted.

  Rob looked to Hester. She was watching him. Waiting. Wanting him to be that steady, dependable fellow she, his sister, and his staff and his tenants needed, the fellow he’d worked so hard to become.

  The person he would never be.

  “Forgive me, Hester,” he said. “I know what is expected of me, but I can’t sit here and watch England’s secrets go to France. If I can make the difference, I must act.”

  She rose and came around the sofa, and he steeled himself for her arguments, her pleas. She lay a hand on his arm and looked up into his eyes, her gaze determined.

  “I understand, Rob. You have a responsibility not only to your family but to England.”

  One simple statement, and she wiped his slate clean. He drew in a breath, feeling as if it were the first he’d taken since his father had died. “Thank you. I promise you, whatever I do, I will protect you and the others.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I have the utmost faith in you. But, whatever you do, you will not be alone. I will be at your side.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ears tuned for any movement, Hester crept down the corridor with Rob and Mr. Donner. She’d had no time to question her decision. Even Rob hadn’t argued overly much, as if he’d seen what this meant to her. They all knew time was of the essence. This fellow Chalder might claim he and the smugglers would leave after unloading their cargo, but what was to say they wouldn’t take a hostage with them to prevent the rest from telling the authorities? She had to protect her mother, Elizabeth, and the others.

  Especially Rob.

  She glanced at him now. His eyes were narrowed, his face set in hard lines. Their goal was to escape the house and then determine what might be done. She slipped her hand into his and was rewarded with a smile.

  They had just reached the landing when a gruff voice called, “Ho! Where do you think you’re going?”

  A tall, muscular fellow, black beard flecked with grey curling down to the middle of his chest, had come out of a room on the opposite wing, cutlass in one hand. Striped trousers flapping, he moved toward them, arm up and at the ready. She and the others froze.

  Mr. Donner leaned closer to her and Rob. “I’ll distract him. You run.”

  Rob nodded, but Hester eyed the space between the smuggler and the stairs. “We won’t make it.”

  Before anyone else could comment, a door opened in the wall near the smuggler, and Ike Bascom stepped out, fingers clutching a long-handled brass warming pan. Hester’s heart sank. She shook her head at him, praying he would understand and save himself, but he strolled up to the smuggler and nodded politely.

  “Morning, Mr. Sharpless. Having some trouble, are we?”

  Hester stared at him, but she thought she heard Rob growl.

  The smuggler frowned at Ike but returned the nod. “You’re Henry Bascom’s boy. Are you working for Mr. Chalder now?”

  “No,” Ike said, and he swung the warming pan hard. It clanged against the smuggler’s grizzled head.

  Hester took a step back as the fellow fell with a thud to the carpet at her feet.

  “Sorry, my lord,” Ike said to Rob as Mr. Donner hurried forward to relieve their fallen foe of his weapons. “After walking the corridors all night, I overslept, only to find this lot about. Where’s everyone else?”

  Hester managed a breath as Rob moved to clap the youth on his shoulder.

  “Most of the staff is in the kitchen,” he explained, “being watched by another of these ruffians. Can you and Mr. Donner secure this fellow and then free them?”

  Mr. Donner glanced up from where he’d crouched beside the smuggler. “What do you intend to do, my lord?”

  To Hester’s surprise, he looked to her. “What do you think of our chances of reaching the village and bringing back help?”

  She gathered her thoughts with difficulty. “I’ve heard there’s a path behind St. Andrew’s that leads up onto the Lodge headland. If we can find it through the debris from the storm, we’ll come out at the church.”

  “And the magistrate’s home is right next door,” Rob said with a grin. “Sounds like an adventure to me.”

  It did to her too, but immediately she saw the problem. How could they make the journey and return in time to catch the smugglers? Mind sorting through options, she turned to Mr. Donner, who had risen to stand beside Ike, cutlass in his hand, while the smuggler lay at his feet.

  “You mentioned a distraction, Mr. Donner,” she said. “What we need is a delay.”

  Ike nodded. “A good lander will have that ship cleared in less than an hour.”

  “Only if he has a good crew,” Hester reasoned. “A crew that has, apparently, been hiding in a shed for most of the night.”

  “They’ll want food, water,” Rob pointed out.

  Hester’s conviction grew. “If we lace it with something to make them drowsy, that might slow their progress enough so we can return with aid.”

  “Our physician in London prescribed laudan
um for Elizabeth,” Rob offered. “Her maid, Kinsey, will know where to find it.”

  “But how can we get them to eat it?” Donner protested. “They aren’t likely to trust us.”

  “They’ll trust me,” Ike predicted. “That’s at least something to be said for being the son of a smuggler.”

  “It’s decided then,” Rob said. “Good luck, gentlemen. Hester, I will follow your lead.”

  Hester smiled. The smugglers of Grace-by-the-Sea had just met their match.

  Her optimism carried her out the front door. The sight that met her eyes brought her up short.

  Two of the trees had fallen across the drive, their trunks splintered by the crash, limbs twisted like fingers reaching for the sky. Branches broken from other trees and bushes lay here, there, everywhere. A fitful wind plucked at them and set them to rocking as if they sought to flee as well. The tang of the sea hung in the air. Everything shouted at her to turn back.

  She squared her shoulders. “This way.”

  As if he had complete faith in her, Rob followed.

  It took her a little while to thread her way through the debris, every moment like a ticking clock in her head, but she managed to locate the path to the village, and they started down. Below, she could see over most of the rooftops of Grace-by-the-Sea. More than one was missing shingles. Even the thatched cottages looked battered, odd pieces sticking up, like brooding hens with ruffled feathers.

  They reached the bottom of the path near St. Andrew’s, and Rob gave her hand a tug. Together, they ran around the churchyard to the house next to it and through its front garden to pound at the door. Hester’s heart leaped when the magistrate’s mother, Mrs. Howland, answered.

  “Hester, Lord Peverell?” she said, blinking. “Have you come from the Lodge? Is everything all right?”

  “No,” Hester said, stumbling into the warm front hall. “We need help.”

  “Smugglers have overtaken the Lodge,” Rob explained. “We’ve come to alert the magistrate.”

  Mrs. Howland gripped Hester’s arm as if she would keep her in place from sheer force of will. “He’s not here. He, the vicar, your brother, and all the men of the militia are out rescuing families from the aftermath of that storm. Trees came down on houses and shops. Two oaks fell to block the entrances to the castle. We wouldn’t have known if Miranda hadn’t shinnied through the wreckage and run to the village to tell us.”