“But I didn’t think you wanted to light any—”
“Oh, Anne, do not question me now. Just light the candles,” Lady Bess told her. “What the devil do they want? Who is this Sir Morgan Lloyd? The name sounds familiar. Do we know him? I know that weasel Handley.”
“No, Mama,” she replied as she moved around the room, an illuminating glow following in her footsteps.
“Damn. Of all nights. If they are seen coming here, there will be the devil to pay, let me tell you,” she fretted, thinking of what had happened to others unfortunate enough to have been suspected by the smugglers of being informers. “Lud, just what I need, two officers of the Crown sitting here taking tea!”
Carefully she spread out her skirts on the settee, successfully hiding the darned spot in the silk cushion. “Now run along, dear, and have Bickham show our guests in,” she told her daughter.
“Mama? They haven’t come to arrest you, have they?” she asked tremulously.
Lady Bess choked. The thought had not entered her mind until her daughter kindly mentioned it. “Of course not,” she hissed, but she eyed the imported lace adorning her gown with less pleasure for it had come from smuggled cargo. “Now do as you were told. Our guests have been kept waiting too long, and I’ll not have it said that Lady Bess Seacombe is ill-mannered.”
“Very well, Mama,” said Anne. She hurried through the entrance hall, her breathlessly spoken words to the butler barely heard by the old gent. She risked a quick glance at their two visitors, but when she caught sight of them, she wished she hadn’t. Never had she seen so stern-visaged a man as was the taller and older of the two officers. She was suddenly thankful that she had been sent from the room, and she pitied her mother having to face that man and tell lies.
Lady Bess was thinking much the same thing as the two men entered, and she met the steely-eyed gaze of the older officer. “Gentlemen? Please sit down. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” she asked politely, managing a welcoming smile while noting that there was something tantalizingly familiar about the tall naval officer. Undeniably, he was a handsome man, but his blue eyes were cold and assessing, and his well-shaped lips were drawn together in a grim line. This officer, unlike his subordinate, was no weak-willed fool.
“’Tis not on pleasure that I have come to call, madam,” Sir Morgan Lloyd responded, his directness confirming her speculations.
“Indeed, sir?” Lady Bess said, her tones becoming frigid. “Why, ’pon hearing that two officers had come to call, I suspected that some of my cows must have gotten loose again and strayed off our property. But since my cows cannot swim, and you, sir, are a naval officer, I must have been mistaken.” She met Sir Morgan’s gaze with haughty arrogance. “Or, has the navy taken to milking cows?”
There was no flicker of humor in those icy-blue eyes. Neither Dante nor Rhea Claire would have recognized the man who, only months before, had drunk to their good health. He was a changed man. “I have come merely to introduce myself to you.”
“Oh?” she asked in a tone which implied that he would have gone beneath her notice otherwise.
“Madam, I am now the highest-ranking officer in this area, and as such have been invested with special and full authority to deal with any crimes against the Crown which result from the illegal smuggling of goods—by order of the Admiralty, the Board of Customs, and His Majesty King George himself. And I am giving you, as well as other members of the community, fair warning that I shall rid this coastline of its infestation of smugglers.”
Even though Lieutenant Handley had been privy to this dialogue before, he seemed just as startled as Lady Bess was while listening to it. “I am indeed impressed,” Lady Bess murmured, thinking the man must be extraordinary to have been given such powers. “And, you, Lieutenant? You answer to the good captain too?” she asked innocently enough, never having cared for Lieutenant Handley. He was too humble, too fawning and subservient. She never had been able to stand sniveling, servile people. Too often a toadying attitude hid a mean streak.
“Naturally, m’lady, I have assured Sir Morgan that he will have my complete cooperation. I can only hope that I will be able to be of some small service to him.” Lady Bess did not miss the look of disgust which passed across Sir Morgan Lloyd’s austere face. He must have suffered much of the lieutenant’s lickspittle humility.
Lady Bess asked, “But, Captain, what does your assignment have to do with me? I am but a grieving widow, with two young children to raise. I am hardly likely to cross, ah, what is that charming saying?” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Ah, yes, to cross bows with you.”
“Whether that possibility is likely or not, madam, I have yet to discover, but I am also thinking of those people who have been living in fear because of this smuggling gang,” Sir Morgan explained.
“In other words, sir, you would look kindly upon an informant?”
“I beg to differ on the appellation, for I think that any man or woman would be doing a great service by giving me information. It could also save his life.”
“And I beg to differ there, for I am certain ’twould ensure his death. However, as I know nothing of this gang’s affairs, I cannot see how the matter concerns me,” Lady Bess said.
“Forgive me then, madam, for taking up your valuable time,” Sir Morgan murmured. The contempt in his voice flicked Lady Bess like a whiplash.
“Not at all, Captain. May I offer you gentlemen a brandy? Or perhaps you would care to share a pot of tea with me? I have longed for a cup for quite some time,” Lady Bess asked courteously. Her face reddened with embarrassment when the captain’s narrowed blue eyes lingered on the sherry bottle and then returned to her.
“No thank you, madam, I have other calls to make yet,” Sir Morgan declined. For some hurtful reason, Lady Bess felt his response as a rebuke.
“I shouldn’t wish to keep you, Captain Lloyd,” she said, rising in dismissal.
Sir Morgan Lloyd got slowly to his feet. Lady Bess realized then that those sharp eyes had not missed the darned spot on the settee, or the threadbare carpets and draperies. His eyes were taking note, no doubt, of the peeling paint, and the one lighter wall where a painting had hung before being sold to pay the butcher’s bill.
“You have far to ride?” she asked, trying to draw the captain’s attention away from the beggarly condition of her salon.
This time Lieutenant Handley couldn’t quite control his feelings. He sighed in exasperation. “Yes, m’lady, I am afraid so, for although I told Sir Morgan that Merdraco stands empty, he insists on seeing the castle. And from there we must travel back to Westlea Abbot, where I hope I can persuade Sir Morgan to stop and enjoy a warming rum before continuing on to Wolfingwold Abbey.”
“Indeed?” Lady Bess seemed disinterested.
“Yes. I thought I saw a light in one of the towers of Merdraco a few nights past,” Sir Morgan commented casually.
“Merdraco is not likely to be inhabited ever again,” Lady Bess said, smiling as she remembered the shining lights and the strains of music which used to fill the night air. She sighed with regret.
“You think not? And why is that, madam?” Sir Morgan inquired.
“Since you are a stranger hereabouts, you wouldn’t know. The marquis, Lord Jacqobi, left Merdraco when he was but a young man, and no one has seen or heard of him since,” the lieutenant replied, eager to repeat the gossip he had overheard.
“I see,” was all Captain Sir Morgan Lloyd said.
“Of course, were he here,” Lieutenant Handley continued conversationally, despite the awkward silence that, for different reasons, existed between Sir Morgan and Lady Bess, “’twould make your job all that much easier.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. He was quite the wild one, or so I’ve been told. He was even accused of murdering a young girl out on the moors.”
“And what does that have to
do with making my job easier, Lieutenant?” Sir Morgan wanted to know. His dislike of the young man was becoming even more intense for he could guess what the lieutenant’s next words were going to be.
“Why, he would be, of course, the most likely suspect to be the leader of the smuggling gang. He lost his inheritance through gambling, and what better way to regain a fortune?”
“One must have proof, Lieutenant. We cannot hang a man merely because he possesses a bad reputation,” Sir Morgan responded.
“My pardon, sir. Of course, you are right,” the lieutenant quickly changed his tune. “But I still do not see any reason for going to Merdraco. My horse always acts crazy when I’m there,” he said without thinking.
“You have had cause to go there often, Lieutenant?” Sir Morgan asked quietly, and Lady Bess told herself never to make a slip of the tongue around the man. He missed nothing.
Lieutenant Handley coughed, clearing his throat nervously. “My troop and I have had to patrol all along the coastline, sir. And in the course of that duty, we have ridden to Merdraco. But we’ve never even stumbled across a mouse,” the lieutenant reported with a sickly grin, knowing he was going to look a fool with his next words. “I really believe, though, that the place is haunted. Yes, really. There are always people claiming to see lights flashing. Nobody goes up there anymore.”
“Then what better place for the smugglers to land their goods than Merdraco?”
“Can’t do that very well, Sir Morgan. Dragon’s Cove is the devil to sail in and out of. Most don’t make it. Why, just a few months ago—” the loquacious lieutenant began, only to swallow the last of his words. “Sir Morgan, please forgive me, I meant no offense. I forgot about the relationship,” he pleaded, genuinely sorry this time.
Lady Bess stared hard at Sir Morgan Lloyd. “Lloyd? I thought the name sounded familiar. Where have I heard it before?”
“Perhaps, madam, you knew my brother, Captain Benjamin Lloyd, late of HMS Hindrance, which was wrecked in Dragon’s Cove not half a year ago?”
“Good Lord, of course,” Lady Bess exclaimed, and as she continued to stare up into Sir Morgan Lloyd’s hardened face, she realized the reason behind his assuming command of his brother’s former station. No wonder he had managed to get additional powers. “I was very sorry to hear of his ship’s sinking. I met your brother on several occasions and always thought him a most polite young gentleman.”
“Thank you,” Sir Morgan said abruptly, not inviting her condolences.
“I am surprised, however, that on the strength of that relationship alone, you were given so important a command,” Lady Bess said.
“Sir Morgan Lloyd, my lady, has had command of his own ship for many years, and was considered one of His Majesty’s most illustrious captains on duty in the colonies,” the lieutenant supplied. “If anyone can catch those smugglers, then ’twill be Sir Morgan.”
For the first time since he had entered Seawyck Manor, Sir Morgan Lloyd smiled. Lady Bess gasped at the startling change it made in the man, and she found herself wondering what he must have been like before his brother’s death.
“Let us hope you are correct, Lieutenant Handley,” Sir Morgan said, eyeing the young officer with interest. “Naturally, I shall not expect to achieve that end without your help,” he added, his smile widening as Lieutenant Handley grinned, unable to contain his pleasure.
“A pleasure, madam,” Sir Morgan said, nodding with the minimum of acknowledgment for her presence. “We still have a long way to ride, Lieutenant.”
“Oh, did I hear you say you were planning to pay a call on Wolfingwold Abbey?” Lady Bess asked. At the impatient look which crossed the insufferable Sir Morgan’s face, she smiled, keeping her information to herself. “Then please give Sir Miles my best.” She did not inform them that she had passed him on the road the day before, bound for London.
As the door shut on the two figures, one in blue, the other in scarlet, Lady Bess smiled. They were destined for a long, frustrating ride, and it even looked like rain.
* * *
Bess drew the brush through her daughter’s long, black hair with slow, even strokes. Grasping the soft strands, Bess parted them into three lengths and began to braid them.
“Mama?”
“Ummmm?”
“There really was a light in one of the towers of Merdraco the other night. I saw it.”
“Nonsense, child,” she said absently. Then her voice sharpened. “Were you listening outside the door? Haven’t I warned both you and Charles time and time again against so rude an activity?”
“I was coming to see if you wanted tea,” Anne explained. “’Tis haunted, though.”
“Of course not.”
“But didn’t the Lady Elayne jump to her death from the cliffs near there? They say ’tis she who wanders the halls.”
Bess sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for ghost tales that evening, what with worrying about the padlock she’d had Bickham put on the stable doors. “She fell.”
“Couldn’t the smugglers have pushed her?”
“There weren’t any smugglers at Merdraco fifteen years ago,” she murmured, thinking that everything good in her life had happened in the past.
Anne Seacombe caught the unconscious sigh. Glancing up, she stared at her mother curiously. “That was about the time the Marquis of Jacqobi left, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was the same time.”
“Was he truly as wild as they say he was? And as handsome?”
“And who has been speaking of him? Janey? That girl talks too much.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, was he?”
“Yes, I s’pose he was.”
“Did he really murder that girl?”
“You certainly are full of questions this eve, Madame Nosy,” Bess said.
“Did he, Mama?”
“No, he didn’t,” was the emphatic reply.
“You sound very certain. How do you know?”
“I just do. I would never believe such a monstrous thing of Dante. When you love someone, child, you can believe no wrong of them.”
“But you broke off your engagement to him. If you loved him, why did you forsake him?” Anne’s dark brown eyes searched her mother’s flushed face. “Ouch! You pulled my hair too tight!” she cried.
“Because he had gambled away his inheritance,” Bess said tersely while she tied a red velvet ribbon in her daughter’s hair. “Unfortunately, one must have means of putting bread on the table, and Dante was more concerned about the cards he was laying down on the table. How could I marry a man who couldn’t support me?” Bess demanded. Even to her, she sounded hollow. “At least, I thought so at the time. I was so young. And so very foolish.”
“I am sorry, Mama. I did not think you still cared for him,” Anne said softly.
“What? This is ridiculous. ’Twould have been a most unfortunate match! He was wild and arrogant and damned everyone’s eyes, and I was too used to getting my own way, and not sympathetic to other people’s needs. We most likely would have killed one another before the month was out,” Bess said wryly.
“You are still in love with him, aren’t you, Mama?”
A proud Lady Bess remained silent. That was an admission she dared not make even to herself, for how much more empty could her life be than it was already? And there was no future in dreaming.
“I know you were not happy with Father.”
There was a startled silence, and then Bess asked frankly, “Was it so obvious?”
“How could you be happy with him when he was forever drunk? And when he did speak, ’twas always of his hounds,” Anne said, surprising her mother by her keen memory. “I can see that you might long for a former love, especially now that you are widowed.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Bess said, an
d for the first time she saw Anne as the thoughtful young woman she was becoming, and not as just her little girl.
“Do you ever think of him?”
Bess smiled, tugging gently this time on the long black braid. “Yes. More than I should. And who knows if he is even still alive?”
“Maybe one day he will come riding up to the house on a big black charger and carry you off to his castle,” said Anne, who was still young enough to believe in romantic dreams.
“If he were to return, he would probably shun me, and with good reason. I betrayed him. He will never forgive me,” Bess said, knowing she would not forgive herself.
“Oh, Mama, no. He must still love you. He will if he ever sees you again, for you are so beautiful,” Anne’s dark eyes mirrored admiration.
“Fanciful child,” said Bess affectionately, pleased by the compliment.
“Besides, Mama, your grandfather would never have allowed you to have wed him once his reputation was ruined, especially once he became penniless. You were underage, and you would have needed permission.”
“You are right, my dear. Grandfather refused permission when he discovered Dante’s gambling had led him to lose his inheritance. And, of course, when Dante was accused of murder, he forbade me even to see Dante again.” Bess’s expression became sadder. “He later came across information which proved Dante’s innocence—while convicting me in his eyes.”
“What was that?”
Bess hesitated, then explained. “Something I said. I was ill with fever, and I rambled on and on about something which, until then, had remained a secret between Dante and me. I do not think that Grandfather has ever forgiven me for it, or for what I did to Dante by lying. I know I still curse myself.”
“I always wondered why Grandfather visited us so rarely.”
“He bears you and Charles no grudge. He is a good man and an honest one, but very rigid. I disgraced him by breaking his code of ethics. And oddly enough, disreputable though Dante may have seemed, in Grandfather’s eyes he acted the gentleman. Now,” Bess ordered, pressing a kiss against her daughter’s forehead, “off to bed with you.”
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