She must have heard the frustration in his voice, for she leaned back and stroked a hair from his forehead, the touch warm. “You would not find Weymouth all that interesting in any regard. Far too proper. Even the king bathes there on occasion.”
He chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to see the king bathing.”
“That I doubt,” Hester said, but she joined his laugh. “And if bathing interests you so much, I’m sure Jesslyn would be delighted to include you when next they take the bathing huts out into the cove. I understand it’s very bracing.”
Rob kept his gaze on Hester. “I’m game if you are. I imagine you look rather fetching in a bathing smock.”
She blushed. “Ladies and gentlemen bathe separately, sir. The position of the huts prevents them from seeing each other.”
“I’m sure I could convince someone to reposition the huts,” he mused.
“You should not,” Hester scolded.
“You see?” he challenged. “Keeping me proper, just as I said.”
“Well,” Hester countered, “someone should.”
He braced his hands on her hips. “And I wish that someone would always be you. I love you, Hester.”
She sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “What did you say?”
He raised his voice, determined that everyone should hear a declaration that had been too long in coming. “I said I love you. You would make the perfect viscountess. Will you marry me?”
Passing with a smuggler in hand, Bascom grinned. The women closest to them dropped their weapons to applaud. Mrs. Tully gave him two thumbs up.
His beautiful love merely stared at him.
“Hester?” Rob swallowed, throat suddenly tight. “Am I wrong about your feelings? Do you care nothing for me after all?”
More of her army wandered closer. Her mother nudged Hester’s shoulder. “Answer him, Hester. He’s asking you to marry him.”
“I believe he is considered quite the catch,” Lord Featherstone put in kindly.
“You could well be the making of him, Mrs. Todd,” Donner agreed.
“Tell him yes,” Elizabeth begged.
Hester straightened away from him, and a hush fell. Rob felt it to his toes. He was too late. He wasn’t the man she wanted after all. She was going to refuse him.
Chapter Twenty
They were all watching her, ready to offer suggestions. Hester didn’t need anyone’s advice. She didn’t need anyone’s permission. She knew what she wanted. Once, she and Rob had been all about the excitement of illicit romance. Now their feelings were based on something stronger, more enduring: friendship, trust. Love. This was her choice.
“I care for you far more than is wise,” she told Rob. “And I hate imagining the future without you in it. So, yes, Rob, I will marry you.”
Huzzahs rang out around them. Rob pulled her back into his arms. One kiss, to seal their future. One kiss, to promise her love.
One kiss that confirmed she had made the right choice.
“Thank you,” he said as he disengaged. “You cannot know how happy you’ve made me. I promise to do all I can to see that you don’t regret this decision.”
“Oh, Rob,” she said. “How could I regret marrying the only man I’ve ever truly loved?”
His eyes lit, and he was kissing her again. As if from a long distance, she heard a cough.
Rob pulled back and frowned at Ike. “This had better be important, Bascom.”
The young footman nodded solemnly. “It is, my lord. I thought you and Mrs. Todd would want to see.”
Rob slipped his arm about her waist, and they both turned to find everyone gazing out at the Channel. It seemed the women who had followed the smugglers to the ship had lost their skirmish, for the vessel was veering out into the Channel, borne on the tide and wind.
“No!” Hester cried, stiffening. “They shouldn’t be getting away. Where are Captain St. Claire and his men?”
Abigail sheathed her sword to stride back to their sides. “Maybe Maisy couldn’t find him. I would have liked to have stopped the entire smuggling band, but perhaps it’s enough those sailors know they are not welcome in Grace-by-the-Sea.”
“I heartily agree,” Rob said. “The Women’s Militia has done the village a service.” He glanced around at those gathered near. “You all have done the village, and me, a service. I will not forget it.”
From those closest to the cliffs, a shout went up. Rob inclined his head, as if he thought it commendation, but Hester saw what excited them. Another ship, black sides sleek, was cutting through the water, giving chase to the smugglers.
“It’s the Siren’s Call,” Ike declared. “The captain’s after them!”
More huzzahs echoed as Captain St. Claire’s ship gained ground on the smugglers’ vessel. Something boomed, loud enough to be heard on the shore, and water fountained next to the criminals’ ship. When the second boom came, Hester spotted the flash of gunpowder.
The smugglers’ ship canted, and the Siren’s Call swooped closer. Slowly, as if reluctantly, the other vessel turned toward shore to anchor off the headland.
Rob looked to Hester. “I imagine St. Claire will be rowed ashore shortly. I’d like to hear what he has to say.”
“So would I,” Hester assured him.
In the end, all the members of the Women’s Militia, Rob’s staff, and Lord Featherstone and Donner were waiting when Quillan St. Claire and Alexander Chance strode into the yard. Alex had his pistol trained on a small, slender man, who stumbled along, clutching his portfolio to his chest.
Rob started grinning.
“Who is that?” Hester asked as they approached.
“That,” Rob said, “is my steward and a traitor to England if there ever was one. Nice job, Chance.”
“Tell that to Hester,” Alex said. “We wouldn’t have known to set sail if she and Abigail hadn’t sent Maisy to us.”
Mercer managed to wrest himself away from Hester’s brother-in-law. “This is the outside of enough. I am an English citizen.”
“An English citizen bound for Switzerland after carrying tales to France,” Rob amended. “I’m sure the War Office would like a few words.”
Donner stepped forward. “We would indeed, particularly as to how it became known that Lord Peverell and I were working to capture the Lord of the Smugglers.”
“Were you?” Captain St. Claire drawled. “Well, we are happy to oblige, aren’t we, Chance?”
“Of course,” Alex agreed.
Aunt Maudie, who had been standing nearby, leaned closer to Hester. “Did you see that?” His ears twitched. That means he’s lying.”
Lying? Why would Alex not be happy to capture the Lord of the Smugglers?
The steward struggled in his grip. “You’ll pay for this outrage, Captain St. Claire,” he vowed. “Your name’s already on Napoleon’s list of enemies. After today, you’re a dead man.”
St. Claire shrugged. “I’ve been considered one too many times to count. If Napoleon wants me, he’ll have to fetch me himself.” He nodded to Ike. “Mr. Bascom. Would you be willing to lend a hand?”
“It would be my privilege,” Ike assured him before joining Alex in hustling Mercer around the house. As if determined to watch, Aunt Maudie trotted after them.
“Where will you take them?” Hester asked as more smugglers were escorted past by the members of the Women’s Militia and the Peverell staff.
“To Castle How for the time being so your brother can question them,” St. Claire replied. “The castle cellar is large enough to hold them, and it has a stout lock. We won’t lack for guards after this. You’re well regarded among the locals, my lord. I doubt they’ll take kindly to you being inconvenienced.”
Rob pulled her closer. “It was an adventure, one my betrothed and I hope not to repeat.”
Captain St. Claire glanced between them. “Ah, love. A curious affliction.”
Hester smiled. “One I hope someday afflicts you as well, Captain.”
He i
nclined his head. “I’m afraid that ship may have sailed, Mrs. Todd, but time will tell.”
~~~
Rob led Hester and his remaining guests inside. “As soon as Mr. Fitch is ready, I’ll have him take you back to the village,” he promised Lord Featherstone and Donner.
Donner gave him a tight smile. “I have work at the castle. I think I’ll walk. Care to join me, my lord?”
“Delighted,” Lord Featherstone said. “But I should return my weaponry first.”
“Allow me,” Mrs. Denby said, juggling her mace so she could accept the baron’s sword as well. “I’ll need to stay. Someone must help Miss Peverell chaperone her brother and his bride.”
She and Elizabeth exchanged pleased smiles.
“Thank you, my lord,” Rob said, trying to ignore his irrepressible sister. He and Hester saw Donner and Lord Featherstone off, then Rob led Hester, her mother, and Elizabeth to the formal withdrawing room, where Mrs. Denby returned the sword to its hanger on the wall and the mace to the grip of a suit of armor. Elizabeth hung up her sword as well.
“Those haven’t been sharpened in years, you know,” Rob felt compelled to point out.
His sister winked at him. “A good thing the smugglers didn’t know that.” She made a show of settling herself on one of the chairs near the hearth. Mrs. Denby went to join her.
Rob sat instead on the sofa, with Hester beside him.
She sighed. “I can’t believe it’s over and we won.”
“Because of you,” Rob assured her, taking her hand.
“And now?” she asked.
He eyed her. “Now we marry. I distinctly heard you promise as much.”
“I did,” she agreed. “But should we wait until you finish mourning?”
He glanced toward Elizabeth. His sister must have been watching them, listening, for she answered Hester’s question with a vehement shake of her head.
“No,” Rob said, facing Hester anew. “My father and mother would understand. There is a matter of securing the line. And things are less fussy in the country than in London. I doubt any here will fault us, especially when we are merely following the earl’s good example.”
“Very well,” she said. “I’m not sure I’d want to wait so long in any regard. I love you, Rob.”
He claimed her lips. One kiss, to seal his promise. One kiss, to show her how much he valued her.
One kiss that confirmed she was the perfect bride for him.
“Then let’s get married today,” he said as she withdrew.
She started laughing even as he heard a squeak of protest from her mother.
“No, Rob,” Hester said. “It would require a special license, which can only be had in London, at least a twelve-hour ride away. And Elizabeth needs you here. You will simply have to wait until the banns have been called.”
“The banns?” He collapsed against the back of the sofa. “That takes three weeks! I won’t survive.”
Hester bent and kissed him again. “I promise you will. I love you too much, Rob.”
And that was all that mattered, in the end. She loved him, with all his foibles and follies. If he had wondered whether he had a purpose in this world, he had found it in her.
~~~
One Week Later
Rob drew in a deep breath of the brine-scented air and tucked Hester’s arm more securely in his as they watched Rebecca attempt to convince Bascom to try the kite once more on the narrow rear lawn of the Lodge. Rob had offered the young footman a permanent position on his staff, pleasing them both. Monsieur Antoine had been so moved by the encounter that he had vowed fidelity as well.
“I am proud to see my masterpieces served to a lady and gentleman who would stare down the tyrant’s brigands,” he’d declared when he’d personally brought Rob dinner the first night after the smugglers had been caught.
Just as they had the summer they’d met, Hester had spent part of every day with Rob since. Rebecca was generally with them, though her grandmother watched her on occasion. Mrs. Denby had been delighted to tell anyone who’d listen that her daughter was going to marry Lord Peverell.
The only fly in the ointment had been the disposition of the dame school in Upper Grace.
“Apparently viscountesses don’t teach,” Hester had said with a sigh when she’d been notified by the church leaders they intended to seek a new teacher.
Rob had put his arm about her. “My viscountess can do what she likes. If they won’t have you, talk to Mr. Wingate. Grace-by-the-Sea has needed its own school for some time. I’m sure a thousand pounds would cover it.”
Hester had laughed.
Rebecca brought the kite back to him now, holding it up, lips tight. “The tail is too short.”
Rob crouched beside her to examine the bits of paper, stick, and rag. “Is it now? How long should a good tail be, do you think?”
“As long as my arm,” Rebecca informed him, stretching out her hand. “You must learn such things. You’re going to be my father.”
Rob smiled at her. “Yes, I am.”
She wiggled. “I knew it before anyone else.”
Hester turned away to hide a smile.
“Yes, you did,” Rob agreed. “You’re a very clever young lady.”
“I’m your daughter,” she said, and she gave him a hug that included the kite.
Throat tight, he held her a moment, gaze meeting Hester’s to find it warm and tearing.
“Would you like to play with the kite?” Rebecca asked as she disengaged. “After we fix the tail, of course.”
“Delighted,” Rob said, rising and picking her and the kite up as well. “Let’s see what your aunt Elizabeth can contrive. She’s very good at this sort of thing.”
“Swords too,” Rebecca said, at which Hester’s brows went up.
“I won’t allow her to play with anything sharp,” Rob promised her as they headed for the Lodge.
“You can try,” Hester warned.
How good she was for him. He would never be the staid, unexceptional viscount he had tried to be. Likely, his father, mother, and brother would have expected it, but he could only be his own person, do his duty his own way. There was a joy in leading, protecting, and encouraging. Hester would help him remember that.
If he had had any doubts whether she would be comfortable at his side, she’d swiftly put them to rest in the last week. She’d located Mr. Priestly, who worked as secretary to the magistrate. The orderly running of the village meant that the man had time on his hands, so he had agreed to act as Rob’s agent in Dorset as well. Already, he’d set matters to rights where Mercer had changed them for his own profit.
Donner had brought the former steward personally to the War Office. If they didn’t charge him for treason, he would be prosecuted for embezzlement and endangerment. They would not be seeing the fellow again.
They might not see much of Donner either. Now that everyone knew he was an intelligence agent, and not a tremendously good one, he would be reassigned elsewhere. If the War Office chose to send someone else their way, Rob could only hope the fellow would be more circumspect, and less necessary.
“Two more weeks,” he reminded Hester as Rebecca and Elizabeth worked on the kite in his mother’s withdrawing room. Spending time with the little girl was helping chase away the last of Elizabeth’s doldrums, and he was glad to see his sister smile far more often.
“Does it truly trouble you to wait to hear the banns read?” Hester asked beside him.
Rob brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “No. I like hearing my name linked with yours. And you are worth the wait, then and now.”
“And you were the suitor worth a second chance,” she assured him. “I’ll always be thankful you returned to Grace-by-the-Sea and to me.”
“So will I,” he told her. “Being the viscount means I must spend some time each year in London to attend Parliament. But I promise you, we will return here, again and again, because this is where you made a man of me.”
“This is where we both remembered our dreams,” she said. “To stand beside each other. Forever.”
~~~~~~
Dear Reader
Thank you for choosing Hester and Rob’s story. I’ve always had a soft spot for first loves reuniting. If you do too, and you haven’t read the other books in the series, you might try the first book, The Matchmaker’s Rogue, to see how Jesslyn and her love Lark, Hester’s brother, came back to each other.
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Turn the page for a peek at the sixth book in the Grace-by-the-Sea series, The Siren’s Captain. Privateer Quillan St. Claire fears no man, not even Napoleon, who is breathing out threats against him for the many times Quill has thwarted his plans to invade England. But when a French soprano arrives in Grace-by-the-Sea with a message from the tyrant, the valiant captain may truly be in danger at last, of losing his heart.
Blessings!
Regina Scott
Sneak Peek: The Siren’s Captain, Book 6 in the Grace-by-the-Sea Series, by Regina Scott
Grace-by-the-Sea, Dorset, England, October 1804
Quillan St. Claire, formerly of His Majesty’s Navy, leaned against the pale blue walls of the assembly rooms and scanned the well-dressed attendees at the annual Autumn Serenade. Row upon row of chairs crossed the polished wood floor, all aimed at a dais that had been erected under the musicians’ alcove at the head of the room. He applauded politely as Mrs. Marjorie Howland, mother of his friend James, finished a sweet melody on her harp. That was the eighth act of local talent since he’d walked in the door, and at least a few had gone before he’d arrived fashionably late.
The Lady's Second-Chance Suitor Page 19
