by Rose Pearson
Jacintha felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes, blinking them away rapidly. Her father, she knew, cared for them all very deeply and this was his way of showing it.
“You are very dear to me, Jacintha, but I want you to ensure that this gentleman – or whichever gentleman you choose – is the right one. Marriage is not something that can simply be discarded whenever you wish it, so make sure you choose wisely.”
“Thank you, papa,” Jacintha murmured, getting to her feet and dropping a kiss to his cheek. “You are very good to me.”
He smiled and caught her hand. “You are a wonderful daughter, Jacintha, never doubt it. Whoever has you for their wife will be blessed indeed.”
As she left the study, Jacintha found herself almost on the verge of tears. She could not tell whether or not it was because of her father’s kindness or if it was to do with Lord Slate.
“Jacintha!” Harmonia exclaimed, as she came into the drawing room. “Did I see Lord Slate coming from father’s study?” Her eyes were wide, an excited smile on her lips but Jacintha waved her questions away, shaking her head.
“I am not engaged if that is what you are to ask me,” she said, quickly, seeing the smile fall from Harmonia’s lips. “And glad not to be, I confess.”
Harmonia frowned, sitting back down in her chair. “Oh.”
“Lord Slate was just coming to make himself known to papa.”
“Oh,” Harmonia said again, still frowning. “And here I thought that….”
Jacintha shook her head, letting out a long breath of relief. “No indeed, and I am glad for it. Only last evening Lord Slate asked if he might court me and I told him no.”
“You did?” Harmonia asked, sounding most surprised. “But I thought you liked him.”
“I do,” Jacintha admitted, sitting down beside her sister. “However, last evening I found him rather forward.” Briefly, she described what had occurred, leaving out the part about Henry seeing them. “I told him that I wished to get to know him a little better first, and I am glad to have said such a thing. I think it is best before one commits to courtship.”
“Indeed it is,” Harmonia breathed, her eyes wide. “I am surprised he took such liberties in the middle of the ballroom.”
Jacintha sighed heavily and rested her head on the chair. “As am I,” she said, quietly.
There was silence for some moments. Jacintha was caught up in her thoughts, still confused over Henry’s anger and Lord Slate’s intentions. She had been surprised to see Lord Slate at her father’s door, for it felt as though he were staking his claim on her in some way. But, then again, she could not forget that he gave every appearance of a good nature, that he had good conversation and was handsome as well. There was no reason she should not seriously consider him.
But yet, she could not forget the emotions that had risen in her when Henry had taken her in his arms. They had danced the waltz and she had done all she could to try and persuade him that she did not care about him in the least – when the truth was quite the opposite. Her heart had quickened its pace, memories of the times they had spent together pouring into her mind. When he had pulled her a little closer, she had felt herself tremble. There had been no such emotion with Lord Slate.
Giving herself a slight shake, Jacintha gave herself a stern talking to. Lord Slate was quite a charming gentleman and her papa was quite right to say that she should take his proposal seriously. He had wealth, houses, status and a good family – all in all, everything a Duke’s daughter could ask for. And yet, there was still something holding her back.
“By the way, I received a note from Claudia inviting us for tea tomorrow,” Harmonia said, breaking into her thoughts. “It arrived earlier this afternoon, and I have not replied yet. I thought to ask you first.”
The thought of possibly running into Henry made Jacintha wince inwardly.
“She says that Henry has left home for a time,” Harmonia murmured, picking up the note and handing it to Jacintha. “She would like to introduce us to her betrothed, Lord Barker.”
“Henry has left home?”
Harmonia looked over at her sharply. “Yes, so she says. I do not know why.”
Jacintha frowned and tried to shrug, pretending that it did not matter. “Of course, it does not matter. I was just surprised to hear that he had gone when I only spoke to him last evening.”
“Mayhap it was a sudden decision,” Harmonia replied. “Anyway, should you like to go? I think I would like to meet Lord Barker. He has been away on business since we came to London but is back now. I am quite sure Claudia would be more than delighted if we agreed.”
Jacintha nodded and tried to smile. “Of course we shall go. I would very much like to meet her betrothed.”
“Very good, I shall write back at once,” Harmonia declared, with a wide smile. She made her way over to the writing desk by the window and sat to write immediately.
Jacintha let her gaze rove over the room, trying not to think on Henry. She ought not to even be thinking of him when there was so much else going on with Lord Slate, but the fact that he had suddenly left town dogged her mind. Where had he gone? Why had he left so suddenly? She hoped desperately that it was not because of what he had witnessed, although she could not think why that would make him quit London.
Shaking her head to herself, Jacintha sat up a little straighter and resolved to put Henry out of her mind. She would not ask Claudia about him, nor even mention his absence again. She had Lord Slate to think of, for he might very easily become her future, and that was what was most important. She had asked Lord Slate if they might get to know each other a little better and that was what she intended to do. There was no space for any other consideration. Her father thought Lord Slate was a good match and his desire was for her to marry and settle. She did not want love - more a marriage of convenience – and Lord Slate offered all of that.
So why was she still thinking about Henry?
Chapter Nine
Henry had not been given any time to settle in. The moment he had arrived at his uncle’s home, he had been charged to eat quickly so that they might go out on patrol.
Henry, who was hungry after his long journey, appreciated the plate of good food set in front of him, his stomach growling just a little.
“So, we are to go out on patrol tonight,” his uncle said, as Henry began to eat. “I will introduce you to the others.”
“What is our aim?” Henry asked, lifting the glass of wine to his lips and taking a long sip. “What if we see a smuggler?”
His uncle chuckled. “They are not so easy to spot as all that! They are aware that we have a patrol and are very careful.”
“If they know about it, then why use this spot?”
Uncle Roderick shrugged. “Because it is a good place to smuggle, I suppose. There are a great many caves all along the shoreline, with some you can only reach by boat. We believe that they are putting their goods into one of the larger caves somewhere along the coast and are slowly moving them from place to place until they reach the shore.”
Henry frowned. “But then surely you can capture them when they reach the shoreline?”
Roderick shook his head, something like frustration written on his face. “Believe me, we first thought that too. It seemed much too easy – but there has only been the rare occasion when that has happened. Somehow, they are managing to get their goods into the village without us knowing. A patrol is all we can do at the moment, but it is important to be aware of your surroundings at all times. The men will show you what to do and where to go.”
Tucking into another forkful of food, Henry felt his spirits lift just a little. He had been rather despondent over Jacintha ever since he had seen Lord Slate kiss her hand in such an intimate manner. That had pained him enough, but then to discover that she thought he would talk about her in order to spread gossip had cut to his very core.
“Something else on your mind?”
Henry looked up to see Roderick looking a
t him with a slight smile on his face.
“No, not at all,” Henry replied, gruffly. “I had a rather unfortunate encounter with a friend before I left London, that is all.”
“An unfortunate encounter?” his uncle repeated, frowning. “Whatever does that mean?”
Henry sighed, lifting his shoulders. “It means that I was shown exactly how I appear to someone I once called a friend. It pains me to admit it, but I am not the kind of man I should be.”
“But that is exactly why you are here, is it not?” his uncle asked, with a lift of his brows. “You need not concern yourself over that exchange any longer, not when you are going to prove them quite wrong in their estimation of you.”
Henry wanted to say that Jacintha had been quite right in her estimation of him, but found that he could not quite say it. Even speaking her name brought him pain.
“Now, the moment you have finished, I must ask you to go upstairs and change,” his uncle said, changing the subject entirely. “We must wear dark colors – and be warm as well. It may be the height of summer but the sea air can still be cold, especially at night. I have had my butler lay out some things for you.”
“Thank you, uncle,” Henry replied, finishing the last of his wine. “I am already looking forward to stepping out on the Dover coast.”
His uncle chuckled and rose from the table. “I shall be waiting at the door for you when you are ready, Henry. Do try to hurry, however. The men will be ready soon.”
Henry hurried from the table and up to his bedchamber, grateful that there was someone there to assist him. As he drew on the darker clothes, Henry felt something shift inside him. It was as though he was remembering the kind of man he had once been, a man who took his responsibilities seriously. A man who did not shirk from his duties, who did not hide from a challenge. That was the kind of man he wanted to be again.
“And this is the way to do it,” he muttered to himself, as he pulled on the long, dark coat over the rest of his clothes.
Clattering down the stairs, Henry reflected on what he might be doing this very moment had he remained in London. Most likely he would be out at some soiree or other, drinking too much brandy and enjoying the flirtations of the less than proper ladies. He would be enjoying every minute of it and not once stopping to think about what impact his behavior was having on others. Much to his shame, he thought of Claudia and her betrothed, hoping that he had not damaged Claudia’s chance of happiness.
“You look quite the thing,” his uncle declared, as Henry strode towards the door. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Henry agreed, a sense of purpose being hoisted onto his shoulders. “Lead on, uncle.”
Many hours later, Henry trudged his way back home, feeling tired yet satisfied. He had spent a long time out with the rest of the men and was surprised at how easily they had accepted him. They had welcomed him as though he were an old friend, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand firmly. They were men of all backgrounds, all situations – and yet they worked wonderfully together.
The night had been rather cold, just as his uncle had said, but Henry had managed to keep himself warm by striding along the sands of the long beach that seemed to stretch for miles in one direction before ending at the caves on the other. There had been very little to see, other than the moonlight bouncing off the waves. Henry would have found the whole thing rather boring had it not been for the conversations going on all around him. He had joined in at times, finding that he could make the men laugh simply by regaling them with stories about his time in London. Some questioned why he had left all that to come here, but Henry had merely shrugged and stated he’d wanted to help his uncle.
“So, Henry, how did you find it?”
Henry laughed at his uncle’s curious expression. “I enjoyed it, Uncle Roderick. You need not worry that I shall be so bored that I return to London almost at once.”
His uncle grinned, his features lit by the moonlight. “I am glad to hear it.”
“But no sign of any smugglers?”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” his uncle replied, with a chuckle. “There was a boat out on the horizon that we are continuing to watch.”
“A boat?” Henry repeated, stopping dead. “I didn’t see any boat.”
His uncle laughed and slapped Henry hard on his back. “It was your first night, Henry. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Henry paused for another moment before giving a slight shrug and continuing on his way. It was a relief to get inside, the butler ready to take their coats despite the hour.
“I tend to rise rather late,” his uncle said, with a small smile. “The staff is aware of this and so they adjust their own working hours. There should be a tray of something in the drawing room for us both, if you would care to join me?”
Henry couldn’t help but grin. “So long as there is something like brandy then I shall be more than happy to join you.”
“Whisky,” his uncle laughed, leading the way. “One of the finest in Scotland, I believe. Will that do?”
“Absolutely,” Henry agreed, delighted to find the drawing room already warm with a large fire in the grate and a tray set out on the table just in front of it. Pouring himself and his uncle a dram each, he settled back into the comfortable chair and stretched his legs out in front of him.
“So you think you’ll stay for a time, then?”
Henry nodded. “Yes, I think so. You were right about me, Uncle. I don’t like to admit it but I feel as though a large number of bricks have fallen on me all at one time, and their weight is enough to make me realize that something is wrong.” He let out a sigh, unable to think of anyone but Jacintha. “This friend of mine, from long ago, said a few things that were rather cutting, yet true. That combined with your intervention has brought me to my senses. I need time away from London. Time to find myself again.”
“And does this particular friend have a name?” his uncle asked, raising one eyebrow. “I only ask because you have mentioned her on more than one occasion but have not yet told me her name.”
Closing his eyes for a moment, Henry shrugged. “Not that it matters, but she is Lady Jacintha, daughter of the Duke of Westbrook. However, it appears that she is much too taken up with Lord Slate to glance at me. She despises me, I think. I am not the man she knew but I will be so again. I just hope Slate does not propose to her in the time I am gone.”
His uncle sat up quickly, setting his whisky glass down on the table. “Wait a minute, Henry. Did you say Lord Slate is this lady’s intended?”
“Not her intended, no,” Henry replied at once, nausea rolling in his stomach as he thought of Jacintha engaged to such a man. “But he is rather attentive.”
“Lord Slate – the earl?”
Wondering why his uncle was so insistent, Henry nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Why?”
His uncle stared at him for a moment before sitting back, a look of astonishment on his face. “Lord Slate, you say? My goodness. The man’s estate is by the cliffs, Henry. You would have seen it as you drove in earlier today, although I would not have expected you to notice it.”
“I did see what appeared to be a manor house,” Henry said, thinking hard. “I didn’t take much notice of it. You mean, Lord Slate’s country seat is there?”
“It is,” his uncle said, slowly. “At one time, we thought he might have some connection to the smugglers but it appears that we were quite mistaken.”
That caught Henry’s attention. “You thought he was involved in the smuggling?”
“I did wonder if that was the case, although I am telling you now not to breathe a word of this to anyone,” his uncle said, sternly. “It has never been verified, nor has any evidence of the idea come to light. The only reason we thought he might be involved was that his estate is directly above the shoreline. I wondered if there was a way that the smugglers were getting from the shore to his home – for that would be an excellent place to hide the stolen goods, but nothing has ever been seen.
And now, since he has gone to London, I cannot believe it is true in the least.”
“Mayhap his staff are involved somehow?” Henry suggested, feeling a trifle concerned for Jacintha. “Would he sanction them to work on his behalf?”
His uncle shook his head. “No, it is just more ideas that have come from nothing. We need not worry about him, Henry. It was just interesting to hear you discuss a name I have heard before.”
Henry sat back in his chair, mulling over what had been revealed. He knew that he had already taken a dislike to Lord Slate, merely because of his attentions to Jacintha, so it would not be wise to consider suspecting him out of nothing more than antipathy.
“And with that, I think I shall retire,” his uncle said, getting to his feet. “Are you going to stay here for a while?”
“I think I shall have another measure of whisky, if I may,” Henry replied, swirling the last few dregs around in the bottom of his glass. “Goodnight, Uncle.”
“Goodnight, Henry,” Roderick replied. “Thank you for your help this evening. It was good to have your company.”
Henry smiled and watched his uncle leave the room before turning back to stare into the flames.
Chapter Ten
“Thank you for the carriage ride.”
Lord Slate smiled and pressed Jacintha’s hand for a moment, his eyes bright. “You are most welcome, Lady Jacintha. I am, of course, always at your service.”
She smiled, uncomfortably aware of what he was hoping for. “You are very good, Lord Slate.”
“Might I call upon you tomorrow?”
