From outside, they could hear the sound of the excisemen rounding up the smugglers. Stephen and Alaric exchanged glances, and discreetly stepped out of the cottage.
“It was very foolish of you to get abducted,” observed Malcolm. “I suppose you were up to some sort of nonsense.”
“I meant to follow you,” she admitted.
“I thought as much. You did not argue with me nearly enough when I said you were not to accompany us.” Malcolm shook his head. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
“Do with me?” snapped Helena. “I am not yours to do anything with.”
Malcolm sighed. “I see I must remind you that there is a great deal I can do with you.” He wrapped her in his arms and began to lower his face to hers.
Helena, about to surrender herself to his kiss, gave a squeak of surprise as he abruptly released her and pushed her behind him. He stood, stock still, staring at Denby. She stared in shock as a knife sliced through the air, flying from Denby’s hand toward Malcolm. It cut through the sleeve of his coat and then clattered to the ground. Instantly there was a pistol in the earl’s hand, followed by a report, deafening in the small space, as he fired at Denby. The baron, who had pulled himself up into a sitting position, sagged against the wall.
As Stephen and Alaric rushed back into the cottage, a red stain spread across Denby’s shoulder, and Brayleigh walked over to him, holding one hand to his neck.
“He’s alive,” he said briefly.
“I meant him to be. As much as I would like to have finished the job, it’s better for me if he lives.” He turned to Helena and lifted her up. “I’m sorry, my sweet. It seems he came to, and I was careless enough not to take the knife from him. Did I hurt you?”
“No, I was merely startled.” Helena stared down at Denby as he lay against the wall, his face draining of color.
“Good girl,” said Malcolm. “You didn’t jump or make a sound when I fired.”
“I’m not such a weakling as that,” she protested. “My father hunted, and he taught me to fire a pistol when I was a girl.”
“I might have guessed,” he grinned.
Alaric picked up the knife from the ground. “Was he trying to hit you, or Miss Keighley?”
“I suppose in that moment he didn’t care,” replied Malcolm. “I was careful not to dodge it, as I doubted his aim was good. If I had moved, I might have put myself in its path.”
Stephen wandered over to Malcolm and took the small, silver mounted pistol out of his hand. He looked at it closely. “Mighty nice,” he said.
“It throws a bit to the right.”
“Did you have it in your sleeve?”
Malcolm nodded. “I often do. Tonight was no exception. Indeed, I felt it was particularly necessary.”
Helena gaped at him. “You mean you do carry a pistol in your sleeve?” she demanded. “You told me you do not that day in the cave.”
“Why would I have admitted to you that I carry a pistol? You’re bloodthirsty enough as it is,” observed Malcolm.
“Well, I like that,” she said angrily. “You have deceived me.”
“I think you might consider forgiving me for that, the circumstances being what they are,” suggested Malcolm.
Her eyes dropped to his arm, where she noticed blood was seeping through his coat. “He hit you! You are injured.”
Malcolm glanced down. “That? A flesh wound. I’ve had worse. Some basilicum powder and a bandage, and I’ll be right in a few days. Don’t fret,” he continued, as Helena tried to inspect it. He wrapped his good arm around her. “You, my girl, have other things to worry about.”
Chapter 43
Helena awoke the next morning in her bedroom at Wroxton. She blinked sleepily at the sun that spilled into the room, gliding across the thick carpet and the silk coverlet pulled up under her chin. She lay there for a moment, content, before memories of the day before flooded over her. She recalled Malcolm taking her up before him on his horse and riding back to Wroxton Hall in the dark. The return had been so different from her terrifying ride with Denby. Malcolm had cradled her in his arms as she had rested her head on his chest, tired to the bone, and wondered at his effortless stamina. He had carried her in through the servant’s entrance, and Sherburne, amazed, had hurried her up to her room, where she had washed her and helped her into bed. There was a vague memory at the edge of her mind of Rowena and Damaris, still in their finery, visiting her and wishing her good night, and then all was darkness and dreams.
“Ah, you’re awake. I’ll ring for Sherburne.”
Helena rolled over on her side to see Malcolm sitting by the bed. He wore a white linen shirt and buckskins; his coat was negligently thrown over the back of his chair. She saw through the fine material of his shirt a bandage on his upper arm, but he appeared to be no worse for the previous night’s adventure.
“No, wait,” she said, as he reached for the bell pull.
“You’ll want your breakfast,” he observed. “You must be starving.”
“Later.” Helena pushed a stray curl out of her eyes. “What happened after we returned last night?”
“I made sure you were taken care of, then Brayleigh and I changed our clothes and returned to the ball.” He leaned lazily back in his chair. “We were scarcely missed, I gather. The music and champagne was sufficient distraction. I told anyone who asked that you had the headache and had gone to your room.”
“A headache!” Helena pouted. “I’m not so fragile as that.”
“I know that, but excuses had to be made. Rowena looked in on you, and Mrs. Honeysett, and then we danced until almost dawn.”
“What about Denby?”
“He’ll not worry you again.” Malcolm’s voice was stern. “Del went into Folkestone with Smithton, where they found a doctor to tend to his wound, and then wrung a signed confession from him. I gather it took some doing, as Smithton is a bit of a stickler, but it is far better than a trial in the House of Lords, where your name would have surely come up. Once they had achieved their aim, Del had him bundled off on a ship to Calais, with a warning not to return, or the confession will be turned over to Bow Street. You have heard the last of Lord Denby.”
“How wonderful.” Helena sat up and stretched luxuriously.
“Don’t do that, or I’ll not be able to finish my story,” warned Malcolm, as he watched her breasts slide under the sheer linen of her nightgown. She flushed, and ducked back under the covers.
“The leaders of the rest of the band are not from hereabouts; we had them turned over to the magistrate. As for the local farmers, I will do my best to see that they are treated leniently. It’s not an easy life they lead, and they don’t deserve to lose all over some casks of brandy.”
“Thank you,” she said impulsively. “I know you didn’t wish to come here and that I made great demands on your time—and your patience. It was kind of you to assist me.”
“Kind?” Malcolm glanced at her, amusement in his eyes. “When have you ever known me to be kind?”
“You are always kind,” she protested. “You have helped me in every way possible, and I am in your debt.”
“No, my girl, I’ll not have you thanking me,” he said. He stood for a moment and then sat down on the edge of the bed. His weight tilted the mattress, and she felt herself pulled toward him. “You seem quite demoralized. The Helena I know would be pointing out the ways I failed last night. For instance, I should have known better than to leave that knife within Denby’s reach.”
“I suppose it was rather stupid of you,” she agreed.
Their eyes met, and they both laughed. He took her hand in his and held it.
“Helena,“ he said gently, staring down at their intermingled fingers, “I should not be in this room, but as I am, do you remember what I told you I would do when the freetraders were captured?”
Helena nodded solemnly.
“If you don’t wish me to go on, you should tell me now. It would be kinder,” he said pensively.
>
“Do not go on.” At his stricken look, she hurried on. “I will speak instead. Malcolm, I have been a great fool. I listened to the stories about you, and believed that you were careless, and interested only in your own pleasure. In my own fear of being made a laughingstock again, I thought you were untrustworthy, and failed to see that your actions did not match the words of the gossips. It was my heart, not yours that I couldn’t trust, and I hope you will forgive me for seeing the Wroxton of the malicious stories, rather that the true and honorable man before me.” She looked down at the counterpane as she finished, tracing the pattern of the silk brocade with a fingertip.
Malcolm reached out and took her chin in his hand, turning it up to his, and gazing into her eyes. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said with a smile. “I told myself—and you—that I wished to marry you because I was honor bound to, and because the match was suitable in every way. But I realized last night, when I thought I might lose you altogether, that l have fallen in love with you. I have told my friends I do not know what the word means, but I hope to find out with you, Helena. No one could call ours a conventional courtship, but if you will do me the honor of marrying me, I hope our marriage will be as happy and uneventful as the last few weeks have been full of misunderstandings and intrigues.”
As Helena smiled at him silently, he gave a little laugh. “You must actually say yes, you know,” he reminded her.
“Yes,” she replied joyfully, and he leaned down to capture her lips with his.
Epilogue
Six weeks later, as the leaves were starting to turn in the woods, and the air had begun to freshen with the first breezes of autumn, Wroxton Hall was once again full of guests. Lord and Lady Brayleigh, Stephen Delaney, and even Mr. and Mrs. Lacey, as well as the Honeysetts and various members of the Arlingby family, were all staying at the house for the marriage of the Earl of Wroxton to Miss Helena Keighley.
An elegant dinner for the guests and a few neighbors had been given the night before, along with some dancing in the drawing room, although everyone present agreed it was nothing near as grand as the ball held that past summer. Sir Arthur had escorted his sister to Wroxton from Keighley Manor that morning, and now all the guests were seated in the rose garden, while the Earl of Wroxton and Lord Brayleigh stood with the vicar.
The company turned to watch Arthur lead his sister down the terrace steps. Helena looked magnificent in the gown of eau de Nile silk; the pearls on its bodice glowed in the sunlight, and the hem of overlapping rows of dagged silk fluttered in the breeze, foreshadowing the leaves of autumn to come. As she approached Malcolm, a broad smile broke across his face, and she looked up at him radiantly.
“Dearly beloved,” the vicar intoned, but Helena barely heard the familiar words, caught up by the evident joy in Malcolm’s eyes, as well as her own contentment. She savored the moment, thinking of the strife of the past summer, marveling that all had ended well.
When the brief service was over, and the groom had kissed the bride lingeringly, to the amusement of the company, Rowena rushed up to hug her.
“It has been my dearest wish ever since Malcolm returned that we should truly be sisters and now we are!” Rowena exclaimed, placing a hand on the slight bulge under her dress that indicated she was with child. “I can think of nothing better for you or for Malcolm than this marriage, and now must hope that in not so many years our children will be as great friends as we are.”
“I hope so as well,” said Helena. “I look forward to summers here at Wroxton, I’m sure our children will discover the caves as well. My only fear is that they will be as naughty as we were.” She smiled, thinking of the box of treasures Malcolm had left in the cavern. Perhaps her son would one day find it.
“If they are, we shall know where to look for them,” said Rowena. “Unless they discover new hiding places, of course.” The two women gazed at each other, alarmed at the thought.
Malcolm and Brayleigh stood to one side, watching them.
“What do you suppose they are plotting?” asked Brayleigh.
Malcolm shook his head. “I have no idea. I should have known better than to fall in love with a friend of Rowena’s. I shall never know peace.”
Alaric raised his eyebrows. “In love?”
Malcolm grinned sheepishly. “Aye, in love. I was a fool, but you knew that.”
“I’ve always known it,” but a smile accompanied the words. “What do you do now, Wroxton? Do you and Lady Wroxton go on a marriage trip to the Continent? Perhaps you could waltz with her in Vienna, or show her your old haunts in Berlin.”
“Some time, perhaps.” Malcolm looked across the garden at Helena as Damaris joined her and Rowena, the three of them putting their heads together and discussing something animatedly. “For now, I mean to stay here at Wroxton. The harvest will be brought in soon, and there is still unrest after the capture of the free traders. I need to be sure that the men have employment, so they will not be tempted to break the law again. Arthur returns to Oxford soon, so there will also be Keighley Manor to tend to.” He broke into laughter at the sight of Brayleigh’s amazed countenance.
“Is the Wicked Earl then brought to heel?” asked Brayleigh.
“There never was a Wicked Earl,” countered Malcolm. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to remove Lady Wroxton from the company of two women who are surely putting all sorts of terrifying notions into her head.”
He strode over to where the women stood, and, with scarcely more than a bow and a smile, extracted Helena and led her away, leaving Rowena and Damaris gazing after them indulgently. He tucked her arm through his, and walked her around the corner of a high hedge, where he swept her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her quivering lips.
“Malcolm, we have guests,” she protested, with little resistance in her voice, then clung to him, her actions belying her words.
“The devil fly away with our guests,” he replied. “They are our friends and family, and can amuse themselves. If the vicar is offended, I hardly care; I’ve never met such a prosy fellow. Do you remember the luncheon we had in this rose garden?”
A flush began to spread over Helena’s cheeks and down to her chest. He watched its progress with interest.
“I do,” she answered.
“Unfortunately, it cannot be repeated today, what with all the people about, though I confess to hoping it will be a warm autumn. But I have had all your belongings moved to the countess’ bedroom, and Mrs. Macomber has arranged for a luncheon—including strawberries—to be placed there. It awaits us, and interests me far more than our wedding breakfast.”
“But they will talk—“ began Helena.
“Let them,” said Malcolm ruthlessly. “I have already told Rowena to make our excuses. So, Lady Wroxton, if you will come with me, I believe it is time to start our life together.”
Enchanted by this vision, Helena allowed herself to be led away.
A Word from the Author:
I hope you enjoyed reading The Contraband Courtship. It was fun watching Malcolm “grow up.”
If you liked this book, would you consider reviewing it on Amazon? It's very helpful to me as an author and to your fellow readers. I'd really appreciate your contribution!
Please also consider visiting my website: www.aheyerlove.com for blog updates, etc.
You can also follow me on Twitter, @QuigleyAlicia, where I share updates as well as links to other books you may enjoy.
I'm on Facebook and Pinterest, too!
Join me for Alicia's Afternoon Tea via paper.li.
Other Titles by this Author:
A Most Unusual Situation: A Traditional Version Georgian Romance
(Sweet, no sex; based on a true story; Allegra and Adam's tale)
A Duchess Enraged: An After Dark Version Georgian Romance
(The explicitly sexy version of Allegra and Adam's tale)
The Secret Bluestocking: Isobel's Traditional Regency Romance
(Sweet, no sex; Isobel and Francis'
unconventional adventures)
A Lady of Passion: Isobel’s After Dark Regency Romance
(The explicitly sexy telling of Isobel and Francis' story)
That Infamous Pearl: Rowena’s Traditional Regency Romance
(The sweet, no sex tale of Rowena & Alaric’s romantic mystery)
A Collector’s Item: Rowena’s After Dark Regency Romance
(The very sexy version of Rowena & Alaric’s adventures)
Sense & Sensuality: Caroline’s After Dark Georgian Romance
(The incredibly sexy tale of how staid Caroline & roguish Tristan find each other)
The Yuletide Countess: Harriet’s Traditional Regency Romance
(It’s never too late for love, as Isobel’s charming cousin Harriet - from The Secret Bluestocking/A Lady of Passion discovers on holiday in Scotland)
An Honest Deception: Letitia’s Traditional Regency Romance
(The very sweet, no sex version of Letty’s journey after her wastrel husband finally dies)
An Indecent Charade: Letitia’s After Dark Regency Romance
(The very spicy, sexy version of Letty’s journey after her wastrel husband finally dies)
Lady Morgan’s Revenge: Letitia’s Naughty Regency Novella
(A “tongue-in-cheek,” lightly kinky look at how Letty made Phillip pay for fooling her)
The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) Page 35
