“Yes, but as I said before, it could be dangerous for you to ask questions about him.”
“I am willing to take that risk.”
“I doubt anyone would tell you anything, regardless.” She considered the matter for a moment. “However, they might tell me. I can ask around and no one would be suspicious.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You don’t trust me to keep your confidence?”
“I trust you, but I cannot allow you to put yourself at risk.”
“But they know me here. While I am not fully regarded as a native, I’ve lived here long enough to be trusted.”
“The people in this village may trust you, but what about the smugglers from up the coast? If they are as ruthless as you say, they won’t want anyone asking questions.” And he would never risk her safety. Just the thought of it had him clenching his fists.
“We do not even know if this R character is anyone untoward,” said Kate. “He simply could have been a distant relative come to visit.”
“But you do not believe that is the case.”
She shook her head. “If that were the case, they likely would have named him instead of using only an initial. Unfortunately, the former archivist passed away three years ago, so there is no one I can ask.”
“I am still against your investigating this on your own.”
“And you have made your objections known.”
“But that will not dissuade you.”
“Not in the least, my lord. For now my curiosity is roused.”
“Then I suggest we record the dates of R’s visits to the village, so we have a better idea of the frequency.”
For the next hour, the two of them worked in tandem, recording dates and looking for references to any other unknown visitors. Having found none, they looked at the list of some three dozen visits over the course of three years.
“If the man visited that frequently,” said Miss Winston, “I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t be known to the entire village. Perhaps my queries can be answered by a simple visit to Mrs. Johnson.”
“And I will pursue my own inquiries with the Revenue office in Dorchester.”
“The Revenue!” Her alarm was evident.
“There is no cause for alarm. I will not implicate anyone in the village. But now that I have potential dates, I’ll see if they have any record of a suspicious R character.”
“Did your father’s name begin with R?”
“No, but I have to think he would’ve been smart enough not to use his real name. If this is even him. But perhaps the reason why the visits stopped is because the Revenue caught the person. And that would rule out the earl.”
“Which means you’d move on to the next village.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “That would mean I could move on.”
Nick wanted to solve the mystery. He wanted to clear his father’s name. But the thought of leaving and never seeing Miss Winston again wasn’t a happy one.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day, Kate once again entered Mrs. Johnson’s shop, only to have all conversation cease upon her arrival. And judging from the way Lily glared at her, Kate had a feeling she and the other ladies had been speculating about her and Lord Layton.
Kate smiled and curtsied. “Good morning, Mrs. Johnson, ladies, Lily.”
“I don’t know what’s so good about it,” grumbled Lily. “The wind is cold and Linus said a storm was brewin’.”
Kate looked out the window. When she and Lord Layton had parted the previous day, he’d told her he would ride to Dorchester today. She hoped he’d had the good sense to take his carriage since spring storms along the coast could be severe. If he got caught riding a horse, he’d be in trouble.
Mrs. Johnson cleared her throat. “Really, Miss Winston, what has got into you? I’ve been asking what you needed and you’ve not answered me. I would have thought the old vicar would’ve taught you better manners than that.”
Kate bit back a retort since she had to curb her tongue if she wanted to help Lord Layton. “I would like to look at some ribbons.” She usually didn’t waste her money on such things, but she’d have to buy something. And while she wasn’t buying a ribbon to impress Lord Layton, of course, she might need a little cheering up when he left for the next village down the coast.
“Why are you wantin’ a ribbon?” asked Lily, her suspicions raised. “You never care about how you look. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be wearing that awful coat.”
Kate ran a hand down Oscar’s coat. “Perhaps I am learning by your example,” she said with a smile.
“My Lily always has been the most fashionable girl in the village,” said Mrs. Johnson as she laid out an array of ribbons.
Kate took her time looking at them, hoping the three other ladies would grow bored and leave. After a few moments of learning nothing of interest, the ladies departed, leaving Kate alone with Mrs. Johnson and Lily.
“I would like this one,” said Kate, as she ran her fingers over a dark blue ribbon. It would help enliven her brown gown. She wondered if she would have time to sew it on before Lord Layton returned.
“Will that be everything?” asked Mrs. Johnson, as she began to wrap the ribbon.
“I do have a question,” said Kate as casually as she could. “As you know, I have been going through the archives and recording items of note.”
“That’s because you’re a bluestocking,” said Lily, with some superiority.
Kate continued. “Be that as it may, I came across something I didn’t understand, so of course I came to you for answers.” Flattering Mrs. Johnson was rarely the wrong course of action.
“As well you should,” said Mrs. Johnson approvingly.
“There was a three-year period beginning in 1810, where I found mention of someone named R, but there was no name associated with the initial.”
Mrs. Johnson froze.
Kate quickly continued. “He attended quite a few village events, including a christening for the Archers, so he must have been well regarded. Unfortunately, I cannot attach a name to him. But I thought if anyone could recall, it would be you.”
“No,” said Mrs. Johnson quickly. “I cannot recall any such visitor.”
“But, Mama,” said Lily. “You’ve always been invited to all the family gatherings at the Archers. Surely you’d know who this man was.”
“No, Lily, I do not. And you’d best not to speak of this again. You, neither, Miss Winston. I don’t know what business it is of yours, anyway.”
“I just like my records to be as complete as possible.”
“You’d be well warned to leave it just as it is. Here’s your ribbon. You’d best be off, now.”
In one fell swoop, Mrs. Johnson handed Kate her ribbon, then bundled her out the door. Kate had no idea who this R person was, but he had obviously been a dangerous man. Mayhap he still was.
She hoped Lord Layton would be careful.
* * *
It had been a long journey to Dorchester on the horse Nick had rented from the inn. The mare was high-spirited, almost to a fault. He wished he’d brought his own gelding from home, which would have allowed him free rein in his thoughts of the intriguing Miss Winston. He couldn’t stop thinking of the previous day in the archives with her. She had made poring over dusty ledgers a pleasure.
She wasn’t just beautiful, she was also extremely intelligent, which had not only helped immensely in their task but had kept him entertained, as well. He’d never given much thought to the type of wife he would like, other than he hoped she would be pleasing to look at, with an agreeable personality. But now he realized how much fun could be had by simply talking and working together.
The rake in him laughed.
But mayhap he was no longer a rake.
He couldn’t help wondering what the future might hold. He wasn’t certain where he’d go if Simon succeeded in taking the title or what he would do. His mother’s family had left him a stipend which would allow him
to live out his life without seeking a profession if he practiced economy.
But what, exactly, would fill his days?
He would likely move to Wiltshire to be closer to his family. He missed them a great deal. But now that his brothers and one of his sisters had married, he knew they’d increasingly be occupied with raising the children who were sure to come. He knew it was selfish to fear he’d be left out, but he wasn’t sure how he’d fit in. Mayhap he would get his own wife. She certainly wouldn’t be from the ton, since he could not imagine a young lady wanting to marry a former earl without much money. But mayhap it would give him the opportunity to marry a lady who cared little for titles.
Perhaps he could marry a lady like Miss Winston.
Not just like Miss Winston. But Miss Winston, herself.
But then he thought of the scandal which would accompany the loss of his title. Even though he wasn’t being accused of treason, it would be damning enough to have his late father thusly branded. He, his wife and their children – even their children’s children – would be social pariahs. He wouldn’t care if it were only his future at stake, but he couldn’t do that to anyone he loved. And he would love his wife and children.
Miss Winston was better off without him if he lost his title.
But if he didn’t…
After hours in the cold, damp weather, Nick finally approached the customs house in Dorchester. It was where the Revenue had been quartered during the war. There was still a presence now but greatly reduced in number since the end of the war had made smuggling much less profitable.
The customs house was a squat stone building which looked like it had been battered by storms for centuries. If there had once been paint on the shutters, it was long gone. The stone steps were worn smooth and the building itself was isolated from everything else along that portion of the road, as if even the other buildings shunned it.
There were two Revenue men outside talking and drinking ale. While both wore uniforms, neither seemed to care about the state of them. One had stains from something Nick did not care to imagine and the other looked like it had been dragged through the mud a few dozen times. He knew the men had a difficult job, so he couldn’t very well blame them for the state of their uniforms, but it didn’t do much to convey a sense of pride, either.
The men looked at him warily as he passed by. Nick opened the heavy wooden doors to enter the customs house, only to walk into near darkness. The main room was lit by only a few lanterns. The air was damp and the smell of fish and mildew permeated the place. He had only just entered, but wished he could go back out again. It was cold and raining outside, but at least the air was fresh.
There was a young clerk at the desk, who looked up as Nick entered.
Nick nodded at him. “I would like to see the officer in charge. I am Nicholas Chilcott, the Earl of Layton.”
The young man nodded. “Aye, milord, I’ll go fetch ‘im.”
There were half a dozen other men in the room, huddled around a stove. They studied Nick for a moment, then went back to whatever they’d been discussing. One man left. Another spat tobacco onto the stone floor. From the looks of it, he hadn’t been the first to do so.
A man appeared who was so thin that his jacket hung on him. His grey hair was pulled back in a queue and he seemed to be more than sixty years in age.
“I’m Captain Deakes. What brings ye here, Lord Layton?”
“I was taking a tour of the area and wanted to talk to you about some stories I had heard over the years, dating back to the war.”
Deakes gave no sign that such a request was unusual. But his dour expression did not improve. “What kind of stories?”
“It is no secret that the entire coast saw a great deal of clandestine travel between here and France. Freetrading was said to be quite commonplace.”
“But that would have been against the law.”
“Indeed, but it happened, though I am certain you and your good men did everything you could to prevent it.” Though Nick was sure of no such thing. The excise men were poorly paid and the job was difficult. They risked their lives both on the seas and at the hands of smugglers. Many had taken the job as a means of avoiding military service. Still others had signed up because they were from the very area they were meant to patrol and thought to profit from selling information to the smugglers. Indeed, more than a few excise men earned more from the smugglers than they did from the government.
Many had been convicted of taking bribes and he suspected countless others simply hadn’t been caught. Personally, Nick didn’t begrudge a bit of dishonesty as long as no one was hurt. But if these men had helped smuggle spies, that was a different matter altogether.
And if his father had actually been guilty of it, that would be worst of all.
“What exactly do ye want to know?” asked Deakes. “I’ve got work to do and can’t spend much time telling ye tales of the seas.”
“Were you stationed here during the war?”
“Here, there, everywhere up and down the coast. We went where we was needed. Kent was a hotbed of freetrading, o’course. But some o’them that wanted to avoid the excise blockades traveled up here, thinkin’ they wouldn’t be caught.”
“And were they caught?”
Deakes glared at him, as though his dedication to duty was being challenged. “Aye.”
“Did you ever arrest men for more than freetrading?”
“Like what? Murder?”
“That. And for smuggling anything more than goods from France.”
Deakes narrowed his eyes and the men at the stove stopped talking. “You mean human cargo. Spies and such.”
“Yes.”
The man studied him for a moment. “Never did see it personally. The Home Office and Foreign Office tended to get mixed up in that. We was most concerned with them that wanted to bring in brandy and lace for ye fine Lunnon gentlemen. Why do ye want to know?”
“As I said, I’d always heard stories.”
“Then mebbe ye should ask the people that been tellin’ ye stories.”
“Yet, I believe it would be more interesting to learn from someone who’d been there. I’ve heard rumors of noblemen being involved and was just wondering if you’d heard of anyone who’d escaped being caught.”
“Wot was yer name again?”
“I am the Earl of Layton.”
There was a moment of silence broken only by the sound of the wind outside.
Finally, Deakes spoke again. “No, milord, I can’t tell ye any stories of toffs who got caught doing what they wasn’t supposed to. But then they rarely do get caught, do they?” The man’s gaze was steely.
“That is true. But there are also those of us who have a sense of justice and honor. I’m not here to hurt anyone in the revenue service or any of the local men who might have had a hand in illegal activities during the war – or since then. But I am curious about the involvement of any noblemen.”
“If I knew about such a thing, I would’ve arrested him.”
“I am certain you wouldn’t have been derelict in your duties. I also know that sometimes one hears only rumors. And rumors are not evidence. You couldn’t very well arrest a man if you only had a suspicion.”
The man grunted. “Actually, we do that much of the time, though never with toffs. To answer yer question, there are always rumors. Sometimes more than rumors. But in the end no toff got arrested.”
Nick’s heart was beating faster. Was it possible his father had been involved? “Will you share the rumors with me?”
“Nay. ‘Twouldn’t do no good. It’s long past and some things are best left alone. Ye of all people should know that.”
“What does that mean?”
“If ye’ll pardon me, milord, I’m due out on the water.”
“I’ll wait for your return.”
“It’ll be a long wait. And there’s nothin’ fer me to tell ye when we do. You’d best return home. There’s folks who don’t like strangers askin’
questions, especially toffs. Yer visit could be cut right short the wrong way if ye take my meanin’.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Not me. Don’t mean some other bloke won’t. Collins!” He bellowed to the clerk. “Get yerself down to the beach. We’ve not long to be shovin’ off.”
“Can you refer me to anyone who could help me?” Nick asked Deakes, who was now donning oiled coats on his thin frame.
“Nay. And if yer smart, ye’ll take yerself back home and let sleeping dogs lie. Now, if ye’ll pardon me, duty calls.”
Nick didn’t want to pardon the man. He wanted to make him stay there and answer his questions. But while Deakes hadn’t been forthcoming, one thing was certain. There was reason to suspect a nobleman had been committing treason.
Nick spent another two hours in the village hoping he might find someone to talk to about the war. But if anything, the people here were even more suspicious of him than the ones in Weymouth. They’d likely seen him visit the customs house.
When it finally became clear that he’d get no answers no matter how much coin he spent at the tavern, he resigned himself to yet another day when he was no closer to finding any real evidence. The only bright spot was that it would prolong his stay in Weymouth and that meant he’d see Miss Winston again.
By the time he set out for home it was almost three of the clock. There was a storm on the horizon and he hoped he’d miss the brunt of it. He was already cold and wet, so he didn’t think he would notice much difference physically. But it would prolong his journey.
It soon became apparent that he hadn’t gauged how quickly the squall was moving. Nick had only been on the road for less than half an hour when the storm hit land. The sky turned dark as dusk and the cold wind whipped rain into his face so badly he could barely see. Nick considered turning back, but since he was halfway to Weymouth, he decided to press slowly onward. His horse didn’t like it, but Nick figured that both he and the horse would be on the road whether he turned back or went onward. And onward was where he’d find Miss Winston.
Nick pulled his coat closer about him, put his head down and tried to block out the cold rain, which felt like needles piercing his skin. He was numb throughout his body and the biting cold made it difficult to hold the reins. The horse he had rented was growing more and more resentful with each step. He couldn’t blame her, of course. He’ d be pretty upset as well, if some damn fool had taken him out in such horrible weather.
Always Believe in Love (Emerson Book 4) Page 8
