The Matchmaker's Rogue

by Regina Scott

  Jess freed herself from them to see what Mr. Howland intended.

  “I’m a Sea Fencible,” Henry Bascom was saying as the militia surrounded them. “I led them here for you to capture. I was only playing at being a smuggler.”

  “Then you are a much better actor than I would have given you credit for,” the magistrate said. “Henry Bascom, you and your cohorts are hereby under arrest for avoiding the king’s taxes, kidnapping, and attempted murder. You will come peaceably, or there will be repercussions.”

  “Huzzah!” Alex shouted.

  Lark and the captain hauled the remaining smugglers into the group. The militia marched them away from the shore. More huzzahs sounded as they moved through the village. The men of Grace-by-the-Sea raised their chins and lifted their knees higher.

  The magistrate remained at the shore, but he had turned in the saddle to eye the shadow of the shed, as if he could see her, Alex, and Maudie there. He inclined his head in a bow, then looked to Lark and the captain.

  “Thank you for your help, Mr. Denby, Captain,” he said. “Tell your accomplices I expect every last item in that shipment to be accounted for.”

  Maudie heaved a sigh.

  “You have my word, Magistrate,” Lark said.

  “Have someone secure the boats,” he said. Then he turned his horse and rode after the militia.

  Jess, Maudie, and Alex went to join Lark. From the lanes around the cove, Mr. Carroll, Abby, Lord Featherstone, and the others came out of hiding.

  “Well done,” Lark told them all.

  “That stopped them,” Alex crowed.

  “And since the magistrate formed a militia, I expect we will have no more concern about conscription,” Mr. Carroll put in, beaming. “The recruiters at West Creech will have to get on without us.”

  “A veritable triumph all told,” Lord Featherstone agreed.

  “I expected to attend a rout or two at Grace-by-the-Sea this summer,” Mrs. Harding said, smile wry, “but this was not what came to mind.”

  “Miss Chance has ever devised entertainment for the delight of the village and our guests,” Captain St. Claire said. “If you will excuse me, I’ll see to the boats. Mr. Chance, if I could have your assistance?”

  “I’d be delighted.” With a smile to Jess, Alex followed the naval captain.

  “The usual time tomorrow at the spa?” Mrs. Harding asked.

  “Of course,” Jess told them all.

  Lord Featherstone patted her shoulder before going to escort Mrs. Harding and Mr. Crabapple to their lodgings. The widow was hanging on her swain’s arm and declaring him a hero. Jess could imagine his blush.

  Mr. Lawrence stepped closer. “You will ever have my admiration for this, Miss Chance. And I will remind Mr. Greer when next the council meets.” With a nod, he headed for home.

  “Quite the adventure,” Mr. Carroll said, stars reflected in his spectacles. “Please keep me in mind if you have more planned.”

  “Me too,” Abigail said, swirling her cloak about her. She leaned closer. “Particularly if Captain St. Claire is involved.”

  One by one, they thanked Jess and took their leave, until only she, Lark, and Maudie remained.

  “Well?” Maudie demanded, glancing between the two of them. “Get on with it.”

  “Aunt,” Jess said, “would you stoke the fire, so the cottage is warm for Alex?”

  “You don’t fool me,” Maudie said. “You want time alone with your sweetheart.” She shook a finger at Lark. “Don’t disappoint me, young man.”

  Lark bowed. “Never, my dear aunt.”

  Jess’s heart started beating faster as Maudie trotted off.

  Lark turned to Jess. “In the morning, I must interrogate the smugglers, then ride to Weymouth to report.”

  Her mouth felt dry. “Your work in Grace-by-the-Sea is done.”

  “For the moment.” He glanced up the street, now empty and darkening as shutters closed once more. “Odd that Henry Bascom ended up being the Lord of the Smugglers.”

  Jess sucked in a breath. “You think there’s another?”

  Lark straightened. “No. I must believe the pieces of this puzzle have finally aligned themselves. Bascom was in league with smugglers who sailed along the coast here.”

  “So, not Grace Cove,” Jess felt compelled to point out.

  “No.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “We were wrong there. But I wouldn’t have been surprised if the lander has come through the village on occasion. I expect we’ll find that he and his men were the ones who beat Alex. A revenue cutter nearly caught them the other night as they were coming in, so they had to find another spot to offload their goods. Regardless, I have been granted a new assignment.”

  This was what she’d been waiting for. She swallowed. “Where?”

  “Riding Surveyor from Weymouth to Poole.”

  Jess started. “Then you could live in Grace-by-the-Sea.”

  He nodded, closing the distance between them and taking her hand in his. “I could make this my home. Take a wife.”

  She licked her lips. “You know a lady who would marry a rogue like you?”

  “I can only hope.” He went down on one knee on the path. “Jesslyn Chance, esteemed hostess of the spa, queen of Grace-by-the-Sea, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  Once she had dreamed of an offer from him. Now it felt sweeter, surer, more lasting. “Yes, oh, yes.”

  He rose and took her in his arms, holding her tenderly. His lips brushed hers once, twice. The third time she leaned into him and felt his arms tighten. Cradled close, she knew she had truly found her place, at his side, in his heart. Whatever the future brought, they would face it, together.

  ~~~

  “So, my sister is marrying Larkin Denby,” Alex said to Ike as the two of them kindled the fire in the caves beneath Castle How the next evening. “I’ll have a Riding Officer in the family.”

  Ike grimaced. “At least you have a family. My mum gave up her work cleaning the castle for Mr. Bent and is heading inland with my brother and sisters to find another position. She’s had a hard lot with my da, but I never thought he would throw in with smugglers.”

  “I never thought anyone around here would throw in with smugglers,” Alex admitted. “And I’m sorry about your father. What will you do now?”

  Ike shrugged. “Hire on with another fisherman, if one will have me. As it is, I’m damaged goods.”

  A noise echoed through the cave, rhythmic. Tap, tap, tap.

  Alex rose, Ike right beside him.

  “What’s that?” his friend asked, peering around the cave.

  Alex stiffened. “Someone’s coming down the stairs from the castle.”

  Ike pulled a knife out of his boot. The thin, short slice of silver looked far too fragile to protect themselves. Alex put up his fists.

  Captain St. Claire stepped down onto the rocks of the cave floor. “Chance,” he said with a nod to Alex. “Mr. Bascom.”

  The knife wavered in Ike’s grip. “What’s he doing here?”

  Alex cuffed him on the shoulder. “Put that down. Is that any way to greet the Lord of the Smugglers?”

  Ike glanced from him to the captain, who was moving toward them. “But I thought you said you don’t work for smugglers.”

  “He doesn’t,” Captain St. Claire told him. “The title is merely a term to scare off the curious. What we do is far more important to England than porting trinkets and grog. You were concerned for your future, Mr. Bascom. The entire future of England is at stake. And I have enough gold coins for you both, if you can keep quiet about the matter.”

  ~~~~~~

  Dear Reader

  Thank you for choosing Jesslyn and Lark’s story. This is the first in a series about the Spa at Grace-by-the-Sea on the Dorset coast of England, where romance and adventure come home. I hope you’ll want to become a Regular.

  If you enjoyed this book, there are several things you could do now:

  Sign up for a free
e-mail alert so you’ll be the first to know when a new book is out or on sale. I offer exclusive free short stories to my subscribers from time to time. Don’t miss out.

  Connect with me on Facebook or Pinterest.

  Post a review on a bookseller site or Goodreads to help others find the book.

  Discover my many other books on my website.

  Turn the page for a peek of the second book in the Grace-by-the-Sea series, The Heiress’ Convenient Husband. Going to investigate a light in the family castle, James Howland discovers a woman hiding there who claims to be a prisoner of his master, the earl. An heiress, Eva Faraday, has been banished to Dorset for refusing to marry the man the earl picked for her. But perhaps the perfect husband for her is the man the earl least expects of mutiny.

  Blessings!

  Regina Scott

  Sneak Peek: The Heiress’ Convenient Husband, Book 2 in the Grace-by-the-Sea Series by Regina Scott

  Grace-by-the-Sea, Dorset, England, June 1804

  Whoever was using his castle was in for it.

  James Howland grimaced as he rode up onto the headland. He might serve as magistrate for the village of Grace-by-the-Sea and local steward for the mighty Earl of Howland, but the castle he approached now was hardly his. Everything he had, everything he’d accomplished, was a result of his distant illustrious connection to the Howland family. Well, almost everything.

  He glanced down the slope beside him to the village. As the sun neared the horizon on the warm June evening, lamps were beginning to glow. A few couples strolled arm in arm, heading home from some event at the spa that nourished the local economy with the hundreds of visitors it attracted each year. Among those thatched-roofed cottages lived the men he had recently organized into the local militia to save them from conscription. His smile titled up. Odd how good it felt to defy his lordship for once.

  It wouldn’t last, of course. Once the earl heard James had refused his direct order to stay out of the king’s preparations to defend the coast from Napoleon’s impending invasion, James would have to pay the cost. Perhaps it would come as a tithe on his income. Perhaps a refusal to be summoned to London for some event. He could only hope it wouldn’t take the form of a slight to his mother, who served as companion to the earl’s wife. At least his lordship likely wouldn’t remove him as magistrate. It came in too handy that the man enforcing the law was in the pay of the Howland family.

  In the end, he would have to accept whatever punishment amused the earl. It was a small price to pay for ensuring the safety of his neighbors, his friends, and his village.

  And there he went again claiming ownership he could never have.

  He clucked to the roan, and his gelding, Majestic, obligingly broke into a canter up the graveled drive. Majestic was becoming accustomed to the trip. James usually checked the castle that served as the earl’s hunting lodge quarterly, but a strange light had appeared in the window twice recently. Ghosts, Mrs. Tully in the village claimed. Rubbish. Someone was sneaking inside.

  He’d thought it might be his old friend, Quillan St. Claire, who was using the caves beneath the castle proper, but the formal naval captain had disclaimed all knowledge. Quill had his own battles to fight. James did what he could to help. It was the least to be expected of any Englishman with Napoleon massing his troops just across the Channel. So, to determine who might be lighting that beacon, James had been stopping by at various hours every day for the last week. He’d never spotted anything out of the ordinary.

  Until tonight.

  He reined in to stare at the turreted stone castle as it came fully into view among the trees that circled it. Light blazed from a dozen windows. Even the stables to the east were lit up. What affrontery! Blood roaring, he put heels to Majestic and galloped to the entry.

  He leaped to the ground and tied the gelding to the balustrade that edged the stone steps. Pulling out the pistol he’d brought with him as a precaution, he cocked it and took the steps two at a time to the terrace and the front door. His free hand was on the latch when it was yanked from under him.

  The manservant in the doorway blinked as if just as surprised to find someone on the other side of the portal. He was tall and thin, with a thatch of black hair threaded with grey and a long nose pointed enough to skewer apples. He didn’t seem to notice James’s weapon as he drew himself up.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  James pushed past him into the house, setting the fellow to sputtering like a wet tea kettle on the hob. “Who are you, and why are you in my castle?”

  The servant’s bushy black brows came down. “Your castle? This moldering establishment belongs to the Earl of Howland. I have met his lordship, and you are not he.”

  “No, indeed.” The warm voice came from above and danced with merriment. James glanced up the wide stairs that ran up one side of the grand entry hall to the landing across the back. A lady moved along the wood rail to start down the stairs. Her dark-brown hair was piled up at the top of her head in a loose pile of curls. Her ears dripped diamonds that caught the light as she moved. The purple gown showed off a slender figure.

  She could not be called beautiful with that long nose and unruly hair. But as she reached the flagstone floor and started toward him, he felt the ridiculous urge to take a step back.

  He held his ground. “Why are you here?”

  She tsked, eyes the color of a perfect summer sky twinkling at him. “I was banished here, sir. No need to introduce yourself. You must be James Howland, the earl’s watchdog. I recognize that chin. I’m Eva Faraday, his prisoner.”

  ~~~

  He didn’t respond. How every dissatisfying. But then, Eva could not say she had ever had a satisfying response from any of the Howlands.

  He certainly seemed typical of the breed. The same golden-blond hair waving about a firm-jawed face. The same cold blue eyes that could spear her in place. As good a physique as the earl’s heir, Viscount Thorgood—tall, broad-shouldered, many-caped great-coat swirling about long legs. But she’d refused to do the viscount’s bidding, and the earl’s, and she had no intention of doing his.

  “I wasn’t notified his lordship intended to house a prisoner in the castle,” he said, watching her. Then he glanced at Yeager, her manservant. “Complete with jailer, it seems.”

  Yeager sniffed. “I’ve had the honor of serving Miss Eva and her late father since she was a girl.”

  “Thank you, Yeager,” she said with a smile. “If you could see how Patsy is doing with the unpacking, then ask Cook what’s to be had for victuals.”

  “Aye, miss.” He cast Mr. Howland a narrow-eyed look before heading for the stairs.

  Mr. Howland’s jaw looked even harder. Did he eat rocks for breakfast? “Exactly how many people do you intend to house?”

  “Six,” she allowed. “I have a coachman and groom in the stables. We’d hoped we could hire additional help once we settled in.”

  Was that noise his teeth grinding? “I have received nothing to indicate any of you are allowed here.”

  “So you said,” she replied. “But it’s only to be expected, really, when you go off in a fit of pique. The earl, that is. Not you personally. I don’t imagine you have the luxury.”

  Oh, but those eyes snapped fire. “Tell your maid not to bother unpacking. You’ll all be staying at the Swan until I can confirm matters with his lordship.”

  Eva shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. I have no money to pay for an inn.”

  He waved a hand. “You’re paying them.”

  “My father’s will left funds for their wages,” she informed him. “My portion is held in trust until I reach the age of five and twenty.” Or she married, but she refused to dangle that carrot. The earl liked to use it far more than necessary already.

  He crossed his arms over his impressive chest. “Nevertheless, I must insist that you leave.”

  Was every Howland this pig-headed? If only she could wash her hands of the lot of them! But the earl was tru
stee over her funds, and he would give her nothing unless she bent to his will. This man might be willing to live like that. She wasn’t.

  “And I must insist that we stay,” she said. “I promise to disturb as little as possible. I’ll need a bedchamber, a withdrawing room, the dining room and kitchen, and quarters for the staff. From what I can tell, that’s less than a quarter of the space in this pile.”

  She thought she caught a sigh. “The castle hasn’t been used as a habitation in years. You’ll need coal, candles, food. How do you intend to pay for them?”

  She smiled. “I intend to put them on the earl’s credit. He sent me here. He can pay for the privilege.”

  “No,” he said, tone as solid as his chin. “The budget here doesn’t allow for such expenses.”

  She waved a hand. “Then send the bill directly to the earl.”

  He caught her hand mid-air and held it, gaze fastened on hers. “Have a care, Miss Faraday. I’m only trying to protect you. This castle is more dangerous than you can know. It isn’t safe for you here.”

  If he was trying to frighten her off, he was doing a good job. She could almost believe the concern in his voice.

  But the earl could sound concerned too, even as he tried to steal her future.

  She yanked from his grip. “Then make it safe. Tell me what dangers to avoid. This is apparently to be my home until I earn my inheritance in ten months. Help me survive my imprisonment.”

  He eyed her a moment, and she steeled herself to keep fighting. Truly, what else was she to do? If her father had guessed the depths to which the Earl of Howland would sink to get his hands on her inheritance, he would never have made the man trustee and expected him to care for her. She was used to fighting for what was best for her and her servants. James Howland would simply have to accustom himself to the fact.

  “Very well, Miss Faraday,” he said. “I’ll help you. You may stay in the castle until I hear from the earl.”

  Best not to let him see her relief. “How very sensible of you.”

  He inclined his head. “But you must allow me to do my duty as well. I am responsible for safeguarding the earl’s interests in Dorset.”