Second Chance Love: A Regency Romance Set

by Wendy Lacapra

  “Oh yes, Miss Freed, please may we show him the tunnels?” Harry pleaded, as Adam had suspected the boy would. Not only did he hope the presence of the children would make her more likely to comply with his request, the two little ones would serve as effective chaperones.

  “I do not even know how far we can go, if the tunnels are in disrepair,” Miss Freed said.

  “We will go as far as it is safe,” Adam said. “Just to satisfy my curiosity.”

  “Please, Miss Freed.” Harry put his hands together beneath his chin in a cherubic pose.

  She laughed. “All right. But if you end up with dirty clothes and cobwebs in your hair, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “When shall we go?” Fanny asked, looking doubtful.

  “Why not now?” Adam said. “Since we may not be able to travel that far.”

  “All right.”

  He expected her to lead them back to the padlocked door, but instead, she took them into the scullery, to an iron ring in the floor. At her invitation, he grasped the ring and heaved up a trap door, revealing a set of stairs descending into the darkness.

  Emma lit a lantern that hung from a nail on the wall and handed it to him. “Lead the way, Mr. Kendrick,” she said.

  Holding the lantern aloft, he descended the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he felt Harry move up beside him and grasp his hand. “I think I had better hold on to you, sir,” the boy said.

  “Indeed.” Adam squeezed his hand, and they set off.

  The first portion of the passage was wide, with a stone floor and walls, iron sconces at even intervals, though empty of candles. After about fifty feet the floor sloped downwards and the walls became plaster, the passageway narrower. The four explorers crowded close together in the circle of lantern light. “At least there aren’t any spider webs,” Fanny said.

  “No spiders,” Adam said. And no dust, either, as one might expect from an unused passage. They passed a wooden door he suspected was the same one he and the children had found padlocked. Beyond this point he spotted several candles in the wall sconces, and marks on the stone floor that might have been made by heavy crates being dragged over them.

  “Have you see enough, Mr. Kendrick?” Miss Freed asked. “There is nothing interesting here.”

  “Miss Freed!” Harry protested. “We have to see where the tunnel takes us.”

  “Certainly, we do,” Adam agreed. He sniffed the air, the scent of salt water and seaweed growing stronger as they moved forward, proceeding at a faster clip now.

  “I hear the sea!” Harry exclaimed, and would have run forward, if Adam had not held him back.

  “Careful, there,” Adam said. “Let us all go together.”

  A few moments later they came to another wooden door. Adam handed Miss Freed the lantern, put his shoulder to the door and shoved hard. It opened with a groan, and they stepped into a damp cavern. Seawater puddled on the floor, and Adam suspected at high tide this entrance would have been all but inaccessible.

  “There. You’ve seen where it ends,” Miss Freed said. “We should go back now.”

  “Wait a bit.” Adam stepped into the cavern, then picked his way to the entrance. The others joined him, and they stood looking onto an expanse of rocky shore, and the cove beyond. He judged the house would not be visible from this spot, nor any other dwellings. A ship could anchor just offshore, and a crew could row the contents of the hold to shore, store everything in this cave and the tunnels, and from there transport it by wagon to buyers all over the county and beyond.

  “I want to go back now,” Fannie said.

  “Yes, it is almost time for tea,” Miss Freed said.

  “Yes, we’ll go back,” Adam agreed. And he would go to his room and think what to do with this new information. He had meant what he said to Clarissa about wanting to see her husband hang, and capturing Delaware in the act of smuggling would go a long way toward doing so. But he must do so while protecting Devon.

  The afternoon seemed endless as Clarissa sat in the parlor with Emma, Mrs. Landers, and Miss Mosely. Emma applied herself to needlework, while Mrs. Landers knitted and Miss Mosely attempted to wind a skein of yarn. Clarissa had a book open in her lap, but found it impossible to focus on the page.

  “What is wrong, that you are so restless?” Emma asked, looking up from her needlework.

  “I don’t know. I cannot seem to settle.” She cast aside the book and plucked up a cushion cover from her workbasket, then set it aside once more. “Have you heard any more gossip in the village about the smugglers?” she asked.

  Emma shook her head. “The constables found nothing suspicious when they searched the grounds. I hope this means they will pry elsewhere and leave us alone.”

  “Smugglers here?” Mrs. Landers sounded alarmed.

  “There are no smugglers here,” Clarissa said. “It was only a silly rumor someone started.” She glanced toward the window, and the distant view of the sea. “I suppose because of the cove, some people thought this might make a good place to bring in contraband, but I would never allow such a thing.”

  “I don’t think smugglers are really the type to ask permission, are they?” Miss Mosely looked up from a tangle of yarn, her smile bright. “Perhaps they are sneaking in when you are unaware.”

  Clarissa shuddered. “That’s a horrible thought.” Though it sounded like something Jared would do. This had been his home. He knew it almost as well as she did, and he would think nothing untoward about using it for whatever purpose he wished. As for her being unaware of his activities – clearly she had been naïve about too much for most of their marriage.

  “Mr. Kendrick seems to be feeling much better these days,” Mrs. Landers said, her needles clicking rapidly as she knit what Clarissa could only guess was a very long scarf. Made of gray wool, it trailed across the floor at her feet.

  “I believe the treatments are helping him,” Clarissa said. She continued to prescribe the relaxing possets and lavender cloths to ease the tension in the muscles around his eyes, but had delegated the daily massages to one of the footman. She had used the excuse that Albert’s fingers were stronger and more deft than her own, but she was sure Adam – Mr. Kendrick – knew it was because it was too dangerous for them to be so close together, with her touching him so intimately.

  “Then perhaps he will leave us soon and go back to wherever he came from,” Emma said.

  Clarissa turned to her in surprise. “Do you not like Mr. Kendrick?” she asked. “Why not?”

  “I do not trust him,” Emma said. “He is hiding something from us.”

  “Everyone has secrets,” Miss Mosely said. “It is part of being human, I think. That doesn’t mean they are dishonest, only that they have learned the value of keeping some things hidden.”

  “What is your secret, Hannah?” Mrs. Landers asked.

  Color suffused Miss Mosely’s face. “My secret is mine to keep,” she said.

  Clarissa leaned over and squeezed Miss Mosely’s hand. She liked the idea that this woman, whom many would view as having lived an empty life, with no husband or children to comfort her in her later years, and relatives who shipped her off to live with strangers, would have something in her life that gave her cause to blush.

  Would Adam be that thing for her? Would the memory of the one night of passion they had shared be all she had to sustain her in her waning years? The thought made her sad beyond measure. She stood and went to the window again.

  After a moment, Emma joined her. “What are you looking for?” Emma asked.

  “Nothing,” she answered. What would she do if she spotted a ship on the horizon – a sailing vessel full of untaxed goods from France, bringing with it her wayward husband?

  “What would you do if Lord Delaware came home?” Emma asked, as if reading Clarissa’s mind.

  Clarissa’s stomach twisted. How could she be a wife to the man who had abandoned her as he had? He had left her and the children without money or protection, yet still tied to h
is name. He was free to do as he wished, while she had had no choice but to remain here and wait – though for what she waited she had no idea. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You loved him once,” Emma said. “Would you again?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “I believe Jared has killed whatever love I once had for him,” she said. She drew in a deep breath. “In any case, I am sure he has no love left for me. If he did, he would not have stayed away so long.”

  Emma’s smile surprised her. “Do not look so shocked,” Emma said. “I am only happy to see you have grown wise as you have grown older.” She moved away, and Clarissa did not stop her. But she would have told Emma that she did not feel wise at all. Only cheated out of the happiness she might have known.

  Several nights later, when full dark had fallen and the household was silent, Adam dressed in his warmest clothes and, armed with a pistol and a shielded lantern, made his way to the scullery. This marked the third night in a row that he had made this journey and kept his vigil, the result being a dragging weariness and unrelenting pain in his head. But each night the moon showed a little fuller, and he was sure Delaware and his crew would take advantage of the natural light to make a new delivery of smuggled goods.

  Keeping the lantern turned down low, he made his way to the end of the passage. He had almost reached the outer door when voices on the other side had him quickly dousing the light and pressing himself against the wall.

  The door swung open with a groan, and someone thrust a lantern inside. “In with this lot and quick about it,” a voice commanded.

  Moving as swiftly and silently as he dared, Adam retreated down the passage the way he had come. He set aside his light and drew his pistol, then stationed himself beside the previously padlocked door and waited. Within seconds, the sound of cartwheels on the stone floor filled the passage, and two men with a cart trundled toward him, a third man walking behind them with a light.

  Adam’s heart lurched as they drew nearer, and he recognized the man with the light as his own brother, Devon. He was thinner than Adam remembered, and had grown a scruffy beard. But the sight of the young man filled him with love – and anxiety. Adam moved farther into the shadows, his hands as they held the pistol sweating.

  The smugglers reached the door, and Devon moved forward to shove it open. Voices greeted them, and the rattle of harness chains. “Hurry and get this load in the wagon,” a gruff voice said. “By the time you make it back with the rest, we’ll have shed this lot and be waiting.”

  Adam judged by the voice that at least two other men were with the wagon. That meant there were five unloading the cart. Too many for him to challenge. It took them only minutes, then Devon and the two with the cart were back inside. The two men who had pushed the cart earlier now walked ahead, one with the lantern, with Devon bringing up the rear, with the empty cart.

  Adam waited until the men with the lantern were a few feet ahead, then he rushed forward, clamped his hand over Devon’s mouth and dragged him backward. By the time the other two noticed Devon wasn’t with them and let out shouts of alarm, Adam had already hauled his brother halfway down the passage in the pitch black.

  “It’s me, Adam,” he said, his voice close to Devon’s ear. “If I uncover your mouth, will you promise not to shout?”

  Devon nodded, and Adam removed his hand, though he kept a firm grip on the younger man’s arm. “We have to get out of here,” Devon said. “If they find you, they’ll kill you.”

  “This way.” Adam dragged him back, and soon they were both running for the trapdoor to the scullery. Shouts rose behind them as they scrambled up the ladder. Adam slammed the trapdoor shut, then the two of them dragged a heavy copper boiler over it. “This way,” he said, and led the way toward his rooms.

  He did not pause to look at his brother until they were in his room, and he had locked the door behind him. Then he turned to study him. Yes, Devon was thinner. Much thinner, with dark circles beneath his eyes, and a coarseness to his countenance that had not been there before. “You don’t look well,” Adam said.

  “While you are a sight for sore eyes,” Devon said. He held out his arms and the two embraced, Devon’s grip so strong he might have cracked Adam’s ribs.

  “I’ve come to take you home,” Adam said.

  “I’m ready to go,” Devon said. He wet his cracked lips. “Though DeLae has threatened my life if I leave.”

  “He won’t get away this time,” Adam said. “The constable has been watching this cove for some time. He’s probably out there tonight. I knew I had to get to you before he did.”

  Devon’s eyes widened. “The constable? We were told nothing about this.”

  “Why should you be?” Adam asked.

  Devon sank onto the edge of the bed. “We had a signal, whenever the constable was in the neighborhood. Then we knew to stay away.”

  “What was the signal?” Adam asked.

  “A letter would come. With Lady Delaware’s seal. That’s how we knew to stay away.”

  It was Adam’s turn to sit beside his brother, his legs too unsteady to stand. “Lady Delaware?” he asked.

  “You know that DeLae is really Delaware?” Devon asked.

  Adam nodded.

  “He was in regular contact with the lady,” Devon said. “She would alert us that all was safe, and leave the doors to the passage unlocked. We would offload the goods here and wagons would be waiting to take them away.”

  Adam heard the words, but they scarcely sank beneath the surface of his shock. Clarissa had known all along of her husband’s activities? Had, in fact, assisted him with his crimes? The memory of the tender passion they had shared clashed with this revelation until he thought he might be physically sick.

  “I don’t understand why we had no letter this time,” Devon said. “The doors were unlocked as usual, and the wagon was waiting.”

  “Perhaps she did not know what the constable was up to.”

  “She always did before. DeLae – Delaware – said she had cultivated a friendship with one of the constable’s servants, who kept her informed.’

  When would Clarissa have visited with the constable’s servant? From what Adam had seen, she scarcely left Waverley House. Perhaps they had a system for sending and receiving messages. He shook his head, and stood. “Come with me,” he said.

  Devon stood. “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “Lady Clarissa Delaware.” He would confront her with Devon’s story, and demand to hear the truth from her own lips.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Clarissa slept fitfully, pursued in dreams by a dark figure who revealed himself in turn as Jared Delaware, then Adam Kendrick. Adam embraced her, and she willingly surrendered to his kisses, only to open her eyes and find herself in Jared’s arms. Her husband leered and pawed at her. “You’re mine,” he said. “You always will be mine.”

  She woke with a start, to a knock at her door. Struggling to shake off sleep and the terror of the dream, she pulled on a dressing gown and hurried to the door. Evans, in a coat and trousers but no cravat, greeted her, his face much agitated. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lady, but the master insisted I waken you.”

  “The master?” She blinked. “Evans, what are you talking about?”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Lord Delaware, my lady. He has returned.”

  A lesser woman might have fainted at such news. Evans seemed prepared for such a reaction, and stepped forward to catch her, but she steadied herself on the doorjamb and managed to find her voice. “Give me a moment to dress and I’ll come down.”

  So Jared had returned. What had once been her fondest wish was now her nightmare come true. How would she face him? He was the father of her children, yet every tender feeling she had had for him had withered from neglect. Taking a deep breath, she chose a gown from her wardrobe and began to dress. She would wait to hear what he had to
say for himself, then decide what she might do.

  She was putting up her hair with trembling hands when the door to her room burst open and Jared rushed in. “Clarissa, what are you about, hiding from me?” he demanded.

  She dropped her hands, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. Jared looked different – rougher, with longer hair, and the shadow of a beard along his jaw and upper lip. Instead of a gentleman’s coat and cravat, he wore buckskin breeches and tall boots, a white shirt with a dirty stock, and a bottle-green coachman’s jacket, a brace of pistols across his chest. “I’m not hiding,” she said, amazed that she sounded so calm, given the circumstances. “I’m dressing. You can hardly expect me to have anticipated your return in the middle of the night.”

  “This is my home, is it not?” He swaggered toward her, and she forced herself not to shrink from him. “A master may enter his castle whenever he wishes.”

  Except that the house belonged to her family, his having been sold off to pay debts years ago. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Why are you back after so many years?”

  “I thought it past time I paid you a visit. Wife.” He leaned in as if to kiss her, but she turned her head away. He clutched her shoulder, fingers digging in so that she cried out in pain.

  “Release her!” A voice boomed from the doorway.

  Clarissa stared as Adam stepped into the room, brandishing a pistol, followed by a roughly dressed younger man she did not recognize.

  “Who are you?” Jared demanded. But before Adam could answer, Jared pulled Clarissa back against his chest, a sharp blade pricking at the flesh of her throat. “A new constable? Drop that pistol or I swear her death will be on your soul.”

  Adam placed the pistol on the table by the door and stepped away. “Why would you murder your wife, when she has been such help to you?” he asked.

  The coldness in his tone stunned her. She stared at him, but he would not meet her gaze.

  “Help?” Jared’s laughter sounded crazed. Then again, surely he had lost his mind, to toss aside his family to go outside the law, and now to be threatening her this way. “I suppose you could say that she has helped, keeping this place going so that I could make such good use of it,” he said. He jerked his head toward the young man who stood beside and slightly behind Adam. “Turned traitor on me, did you?” he asked. “I told you what happens to those who betray me. You might think you’re safe now, but I’ll come back one night and slit your throat in your sleep.”