Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two

by Mary Lancaster

  He breathed in her hair’s sweet scent. “I’ve found a gate. We have very little time before it grows light. We’ll have to take a chance that he’s ridden farther on.”

  “I can walk. My ankle feels better.”

  He didn’t believe it but gripped her arm. “Let’s move on.”

  There was no sign of the horseman as they followed the wall. At the gate, Brandon eased back the bolt and shoved it open. The loud shriek of rusty hinges would have been heard for miles. Cries went up and a thud of hooves shook the ground too close for comfort. He pushed her through the gate. “Go! Turn left and keep moving as fast as you can!”

  “What about you? Aren’t you coming?”

  “In a minute, I’ll catch you up.”

  “I don’t like to…”

  “For heaven’s sake, Letty. I need you to go.”

  Without another word, she left him, limping down the lane close to the wall.

  Brandon waited for the rider, praying the man didn’t have a gun. But even if he did, he was unlikely to use it for fear of bringing the land guard who covered the inland areas while the excisemen dealt with the coast.

  He barely had time to whirl around when the horse was almost on top of him.

  “Got you, Cartwright!”

  Brandon was glad it was Elford. He was too well bred to be a ruthless killer, and completely untrained in the arts.

  Elford angled the horse to wedge him against the wall and brought his whip down painfully on Brandon’s shoulder.

  As the nervous horse shifted, Brandon grabbed the whip and pulled sharply, unseating Elford who crashed to the ground. The horse tossed its head and whinnied, backing away, then turned and galloped off.

  With a cry of rage, Elford bounced to his feet and swivelled to face Brandon, holding up his fists. He bellowed for the others. An answering shout told Brandon they were only minutes away. With no time for the sort of fisticuffs Elford had been taught at Jackson’s boxing salon, he stepped in and dealt the man a sharp blow to his throat. He went down without a murmur.

  Brandon barreled his way through the gate and set out full pelt in pursuit of Letty.

  He found her around a bend in the road. She hadn’t gone far, she was limping badly.

  “Step up on that rock and lean against my back,” he said. “Faster that way.”

  Without a murmur of protest, she perched on the stone and pulled up her dress to reveal stocking tops and blue satin bows and a flash of rounded pale thigh. He turned from the beguiling sight and bent, allowing her to place her hands around his neck. Holding her legs against his waist, he set off at a good pace toward Hythe.

  “This was how my father used to carry me,” she said somewhat breathlessly in his ear.

  “He sounds like a good man.”

  “Yes, he was.” Her voice caught.

  What happened to her father? He hoped to hear more about that later. He tried to harden himself against the fragility he heard in her voice. “You neglected to tell me you saw Marston and Lady Fraughton in the library.”

  “Would it have stopped you seducing her yourself?” she asked casually.

  “I wasn’t seducing her,” he growled. “I wanted that letter and anything more she could tell me.”

  “What was in the letter?”

  “It concerned the meeting at Ascot races,” he said shortly, determined that any further interest in this affair was nipped in the bud.

  “Is that all there was?” she murmured, her breath tickling his neck.

  He declined to answer while he kept up the pace. The men would not be far behind them and moving faster unless finding Elford delayed them. Dawn had broken, casting a pink glow in the sky. Would the excisemen still be about? Or would he and Letty be left stranded? There was a church in the village, he remembered, if they must, they could hide there. But some of these churches sheltered smugglers and even stored their goods. How long could they hide before they were found?

  The thunder of horsemen riding hard came from somewhere behind them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The horsemen would soon be upon them.

  Letty’s arms almost strangling him, she cried out. “It’s them, they’re coming after us!”

  “Hush. Too many.” Brandon lowered her to the ground.

  A squadron of dragoons in their blue and gold, swept around the corner and surrounded them; hard faces beneath elaborate helmets, their fierce swords swung at their hips. A customs officer rode at the head.

  They looked so fearsome that Letty clutched hold of Brandon’s sleeve.

  “Cartwright, Captain.” Brandon gently released her hand and stepped forward to address the officer. “We are very pleased to see you.”

  The captain dismounted. He offered his hand. “Captain Dogwood, sir. Are you in need of assistance?”

  Brandon shook it. “You might say that. Miss Bromley and I have fallen foul of smugglers.”

  The officer’s eyes widened. “Well, that is right up our alley, Mr. Cartwright. Where might they be hiding?”

  Once Brandon had explained, the captain sent his dragoons to Elford Park with an order to begin a search and detain the inhabitants should any contraband be found.

  “I shall require you to accompany me, Mr. Cartwright. We need a witness. Lord Elford might prove difficult.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind one of your men taking Miss Bromley to a respectable inn,” Brandon said. “She has hurt her ankle.”

  “I am perfectly all right,” Letty protested, annoyed that Brandon dismissed her like a fragile china figurine. And after all they’d been through! Hadn’t she proven herself capable?

  “I know you are, but what will follow is something I would rather spare you,” Brandon said.

  At the captain’s order, one of the soldiers dismounted. “Allow me to assist you onto my horse, Miss,” the big soldier said. “I believe you will find the Star Inn in St. Mary’s Bay comfortable. The proprietor is a good man.”

  “Please have a physician attend Miss Bromley’s ankle,” Brandon said with a sharp nod in her direction. He turned away to talk to the captain.

  Letty could do nothing other than agree and permit the fellow to lift her onto his horse. That familiar light in Brandon’s eyes told her she’d get nowhere with him if she argued. Denying her the satisfaction of witnessing the men’s arrest didn’t trouble him.

  The soldier mounted behind her. One hand on his saber, and one on the reins, he rode silently with her along a road that took them through fields of sheep and grazing cows. Letty gripped the pommel as the earthy, dank smells of the marshes gave way to the fresh salty brine of the Channel, and the strong odor of fish. The dragoon put her down outside a two-story, whitewashed inn facing the shore. Courteously, he offered her his arm to escort her inside.

  The innkeeper hurried out to greet them. After a rudimentary explanation of her falling foul of robbers, he offered his sympathy and observed that nowhere was safe anymore. Then to tidy herself, he directed her to a chamber with a maid to attend her. She removed the now filthy cloak, washed her face, and attempted to deal with her hair, which proved impossible because all the hair pins had disappeared, along with the flowers. The knot she twisted it into wouldn’t hold, so she shrugged and left the room.

  A servant led her to the inn’s parlor where comfortable furniture was grouped around the fireplace beneath a low-beamed ceiling. The mullioned windows emitted little of the early morning light into the room from a pale blue sky. The innkeeper appeared and told her the apothecary who was a job of all trades with some of the skills of a physician, had been sent for to tend her ankle.

  Letty gratefully settled in a chair by the big hearth, finding the crackle of the fire soothing. Well, she had wished for an adventure, hadn’t she? And got rather more than she’d anticipated. Despite her bravado, which was mostly for Brandon’s sake, her limbs still trembled. There had been an air of quiet menace in Elford’s grand drawing room, incongruous amongst the antiques and priceless paintings
, the trappings of a wealthy gentleman. She had thought that gentlemen operated under some sort of honor code, but those men made no secret that she and Brandon were to be disposed of without the blink of an eye.

  She ruefully examined her lovely white gown, crumpled and soiled, the flowers hanging by a thread. No amount of careful laundering could restore it to its original beauty, and nothing could be done with her sandals. It was indeed remarkable they still remained on her feet.

  A maid brought in a tray and unloaded a pot of tea, a plate of ham and cheese, bread, and a large slab of currant cake. Letty, her stomach rumbling in anticipation, thanked her. She poured herself a cup of tea and set about the serious business of eating. Every mouthful was bliss. As she poured a second cup, she wondered if Brandon would be long. He must be hungry, too. Consumed with guilt, she gave a moan of dismay. All she’d put him through! He must be very angry with her.

  A shepherd dressed in a smock entered the parlor with a small, bleating black-faced lamb in his arms.

  “Oh, he’s beautiful.” Letty suffered an inexplicable pang of homesickness for Hawkeshead village, and her reassuring plain-speaking, no-nonsense, uncle and aunt. How horror-struck they would be to learn about this. She had no idea how to explain it to them, but she couldn’t of course. Nor could she tell Jane or Geoffrey, which made her feel uncomfortable. One did not keep secrets from one’s friends.

  The young shepherd settled the small animal by the fire and fed it from a bottle. “He’s lost his mother and been poorly, Miss. But a bit of food and warmth will set him to rights.”

  “How good of the innkeeper to allow you to bring the lamb here.”

  “It is a kind of tradition around these parts. The flocks are brought here regular like.”

  Letty’s heart lightened. She had witnessed the worst devilry at work and feared for her life, but now with that behind her, and the meal and the tea warming the cold knot in her chest, her inner strength returned. Her thoughts settled on Brandon. What was occurring at Elford Park? She eagerly waited for him to arrive and tell her everything.

  The shepherd stood, and with a tug of his forelock, scooped up the little lamb and left the room, leaving Letty to her thoughts.

  Soon afterward, the apothecary, a kindly man with a ginger beard, came to examine her ankle. He diagnosed a sprain and advised her to rest it.

  Her foot resting on a cushion, Letty watched the crackling flames turn the coal a hot orange-red, the smoke curling up the chimney. Brandon had proved himself to be a brave man, and very much involved in his work. He was unmarried, but might there be someone? It hardly mattered, for she was unlikely to see him again after they reached London. A throb in her chest near her heart forced her to admit she felt more for him than was wise. Of course, such a life-and-death experience would evoke such raw feelings. Naturally, when her life returned to normal, she reasoned, he, and the excitement surrounding him, would cease to have such an effect on her.

  But things were not yet at an end. There was Arietta. Her patroness knew more than she’d given Letty to believe. Letty struggled not to think badly of her when she’d been so generous and kind. She recalled how they’d spent the evenings laughing together while discussing Letty’s suitors. How they’d enjoyed shopping in Piccadilly and Bond Street, while Arietta’s footman followed, his arms full of their parcels. Arietta had been so driven to discover the truth about her husband. But was it merely to clear his name? Or might she in some way be caught up in this web of intrigue? Whatever the reason, Letty was sure she would be most dreadfully worried about her.

  Letty gloomily acknowledged that should she be unable to remain with Arietta, she could not make her curtsy to the queen. She would be forced to return to Cumbria, and much as she loved the small village and the people in it, she’d begun to enjoy the Season and would like to stay until the end.

  Fifteen minutes later, Brandon entered the parlor. He raked his dark hair back from his forehead with his long fingers and smiled. She sighed. If only he wasn’t so dashing!

  Brandon wrestled with his fury at the bruise on Letty’s chin where Marston had hit her. Her thick dark locks hung down over her shoulders, stirring an inappropriate image of her in his arms and in his bed, which he quickly buried. To see her alive and relatively unharmed squeezed his chest. He drew in a breath and strode forward to pull up a chair to be near her.

  “How are you, sweetheart?”

  She firmed her lips as if to stop them trembling. “I’m quite well.”

  “Are you?” He studied her with a smile, then shook his head. “Good lord, Letty, to see you sitting here more or less in one piece is a tremendous relief to me.”

  “I confess, I am a bit relieved myself,” Letty said with a wobbly smile that made him want to hug her. “For a while, I feared we might not survive.”

  He had, too, but did not mention it. She needed to go back to London, and thence, to another place of safety as soon as possible, where he could stop worrying about her.

  “I’ve arranged for a chaise to take us back to London. It will be here soon.” He looked at her slender ankle which didn’t appear to be badly swollen. “Has the physician examined your ankle?”

  “Yes. It’s only a strain and is already much better.” Her wide brown eyes searched his. “Well? Are you going to tell me what happened? Don’t leave anything out. Did the dragoons stab them with their sabers?”

  He grinned at her. “You are a bloodthirsty young woman. They did not. But the dragoons were remarkably efficient. Elford was discovered unconscious where I left him and brought to the house.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I disabled him, Letty, I didn’t wish to kill him.”

  “Pity,” she murmured. “And the rest?”

  “Descrier is demanding his lawyer. Says he was a houseguest and has no knowledge of the contraband found in the cellar.”

  “And Fraughton?”

  “Fraughton is dead. Marston killed him.”

  She looked stricken. “Oh! Was that my fault? Because I told him about his wife’s affair?”

  “No, Letty. As if what you said could make a ha’penny’s worth of difference. The men harbored a deep hatred of each other.”

  “And Marston?”

  “He got away, I’m afraid. The dragoons are searching for him, but he has probably left the area.”

  “Where would he go?”

  “He’d pack up and leave the country if he is wise.” Brandon frowned. He was prepared to follow the devil to France. He wouldn’t rest until the brutal man was dealt with.

  “Why would such well-to-do gentlemen involve themselves in smuggling?”

  “Same old story. Greed. But it’s not a case of smuggling a few barrels of brandy, casks of wine, or bolts of silk. They were intent on setting up an empire. Bringing in opium through the Silk Road to Italy which was then under Napoleon’s control, thence to France.”

  “Opium? That’s a drug, isn’t it? Don’t they use it for medicines like laudanum?”

  “Yes, and morphine, but in its pure form, it is very destructive. Many would become dependent on it, which would keep them in business.”

  “They are evil.”

  A clatter of carriage wheels sounded on the road outside the window. Then men’s voices were raised in the entry.

  “Our chaise has arrived.”

  “Have something to eat first.”

  “No time.” He grabbed the cake she’d left uneaten, off the plate. Discovering it to be moist and tasty, it disappeared after a few hearty bites. He stood and offered her his arm.

  As the chaise took them to London, Brandon sat back and ran a hand over his eyes.

  “You must be dreadfully tired,” Letty observed.

  “You get used to going without sleep in this business.”

  “What made you get into it? Surely your father would have objected? Do your parents live in London?”

  “They prefer to spend most of their time in the country. Father has never approved
of me. But he knows nothing about the work I do.”

  “Why don’t you tell him? Surely he would be proud of you.”

  He shook his head. “The work of agents is not considered to be particularly admirable.”

  Her eyes widened. “Not admirable? When you risk your life for your country? Why ever not?”

  “Agents are seen to lack the nobility of soldiers. It involves some rather unsavory aspects which gentlefolk don’t wish to acknowledge goes on.”

  “But for a good cause, surely?” She leaned forward. “What for instance?”

  “We don’t always fight fair, Letty. But I prefer not to go into it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I suspect you would find it far too interesting.”

  She grinned. “I might. But doesn’t your father’s unfair disapproval bother you?”

  “It did once. I’ve grown used to it.” This conversation was heading into dangerous territory. “Your parents are no longer with us?”

  “No. A carriage accident when I was seven. My father’s older brother, Sylvester, Baron Bromley, is a widower and suffers ill health, so I was sent to Uncle Alford, Father’s younger brother. He’s the vicar of Hawkshead.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You were brought up by a vicar?”

  “Do you find that surprising?

  “He doesn’t seem to have eradicated your adventurous spirit.”

  “It wasn’t for lack of trying,” she said, looking a little shamefaced. “I suspect I’ve inherited my great-great-aunt’s sense of adventure. Lydia kept diaries in which she describes her incredible life in Africa, and her adventure on the high seas.”

  “The high seas?”

  “Yes, she met a pirate and traveled with him on his ship.”

  “Remarkable!” Brandon’s gaze lingered on her mouth, her lips curling up as she spoke of this adventurous great aunt. He would like to hear more of the story if only to enjoy her telling of it.

  “Oh, she was, indeed, most remarkable,” Letty said. “Her father was a botanist and a scientist.” She yawned. “Geoffrey is always accusing me of being like her.”