Treasure Her Heart

by Marin McGinnis

  Tunno glared at her. “Why should I tell you that?”

  Judith skimmed the desolate shore and let out a derisive snort. “Why not? What could I possibly do? Swim to safety?”

  Tunno shrugged. “Fine. We’ll stay here for a day or two, until we get the signal.”

  A day or two? God help her. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “You’ll stay here until I figure out what to do with you.” His gaze trailed down her body then back up. Judith shuddered, expecting him to say something crude. He cocked his head and studied her for a moment, then surprised her by saying, “Wealthy, I’d warrant. Maybe we’ll ask for a ransom.”

  “Ransom?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Ransom.” He gestured to Muscle. “Take her inside.”

  Muscle hauled her to her feet and pushed her toward an opening in the cliffside. She had no idea where they were, wasn’t even sure which direction they’d gone once they’d left the shore the night before, since it had been so dark.

  The cliffs here were chalk-white, reaching so far toward the sky she could barely see the top of them. Inside, the cave had high ceilings and was brighter than she expected. Like the outside, the walls were white, glistening in the light from the torches Bones was lighting. Near the back, there were several pallets and bedrolls, and along another wall was a table and several chairs. A dozen crates were stacked nearby, along with a cask of wine. Bins held vegetables and fruits.

  “Do you live here?” Judith asked.

  Muscle shrugged. “It’s dry and there’s no rats. Better’n Portsmouth.”

  “Portsmouth? That’s where you’re from?”

  “Shut up, boy!” Tunno barked from the cave entrance. “She doesn’t need to know about us.”

  Muscle shrugged again and shoved her onto one of the pallets. “You can sleep there. I’ll get you some water.”

  Judith hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until the boy mentioned water. Now she tried to swallow, but there was no moisture in her mouth. She gratefully clasped the tin cup he offered her and drank deeply. Cold and slightly sweet, the water slid down her throat, easing the dryness. She wiped her mouth and held out the cup to Muscle. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged—the two sentences she’d gotten out of him appeared to be all he was capable of. He took the cup and joined his father, who’d dipped into the cask and poured himself and the rest of the men cups of what appeared to be wine. Bones took a bowl of something outside, and before long wisps of wood smoke curled through the cave entrance, followed by the smell of something savory.

  Her stomach growled again, and she tried to remember when she last ate. Luncheon? How many days ago? It hadn’t been more than twelve hours since she’d kissed Peter on the path leading down to the cave, even if it seemed like days. She wished he were here now. She didn’t know how hard Shorty had hit him, but it had seemed a killing blow. She prayed he was unhurt.

  Before her overactive brain could devise other dire scenarios, Bones came back into the cave with his bowl. He dished something into a smaller bowl and brought it to her. Smiling shyly, he held it out along with a hunk of bread. Grateful the rope around her hands was loose enough to allow her to hold it, she took the food and inhaled deeply. Fish, the salty sea.

  “It’s not much, miss, but I hope you like it.” He moved some sand around with his toe. “It’s salted cod I warmed in the fire.”

  “It smells delicious, Bo…” She stopped. She couldn’t very well call him Bones to his face. “Please, what is your name?”

  He turned to his father, who was busy berating Shorty. He whispered, “Henry, miss. My brother is George.”

  “Thank you, Henry.” Now that she was so close to him, it was obvious he wasn’t as old as she’d first thought. Sixteen, perhaps. “Would you join me?” she asked with a smile.

  He shook his head and blushed to the roots of his hair. “Pa would never allow it. I’ll get you some wine, though. P’rhaps it’ll help you sleep. I, uh, noticed you didn’t get much in the boat.” He disappeared before she could say anything, coming back almost instantly with a goblet of dark, red liquid. “Here. It’s French. Claret, I think.”

  Judith took a sip. It was surprisingly good, given the fact she was drinking it while a captive in a cave. “Mmm. It’s lovely.”

  “I’ll, uh, let you eat now, miss.” Pink-cheeked, he withdrew, returning to the seat at the table by his father, his gaze wandering over to her at regular intervals.

  Judith took another sip of the wine. It tasted much like the wine Lady Howley had served at dinner. But perhaps one claret tasted like another. Or perhaps Judith was incapable of telling the difference. Either was preferable to imagining Lady Howley had purchased her claret from the smugglers. Or worse—was a smuggler herself.

  She pushed the thought, and the wine, aside and finished her fish. Better for having eaten, Judith’s head cleared. The men chatted quietly. She didn’t know what time it was, had no idea where they were, or how far away they were from Folkestone. But surely it couldn’t be that far—the boat hadn’t been moving very fast, even if they had traveled all night. Time had seemed to stand still when she was in the boat, her heart aching and worried for Peter.

  She wiggled her hands in the rope. It wasn’t tied tightly, and her feet were loose. Perhaps, if everyone else fell asleep, she could sneak out.

  As if he read her mind, Tunno barked, “Tie her feet, boy, so she can’t escape while we get some sleep.” He moved one of the pallets near the entrance so she couldn’t sneak past him even if she did manage to walk.

  Henry shuffled over with another length of rope, his feet dragging. He kept his head down, wouldn’t meet her eyes; perhaps he felt guilty, or maybe he was just embarrassed to touch her ankles. When he was finished, he grabbed another pallet and laid down near his father and brother. Shorty snored loudly nearby, filling the cave with rhythmic, raspy whistling through his large nose.

  Judith wiggled her feet, but they were tied too tightly for her to move them very far apart. Efforts to loosen them with her fingers were useless. She stopped before she made them bleed. Curling up on her pallet, she ignored the pain beneath her breastbone from her corset, thought of Peter, and willed the tears to stay away.

  Chapter 14

  Peter and the guard arrived at Howley House an hour later, it being a longer journey up and over than through the tunnels under the house.

  The butler answered his knock with a raised eyebrow but said nothing as he escorted Peter and the guardsman to the drawing room. Lady Grangemore, her eyes red from weeping, sat with Lady Howley on the settee. They both leapt to their feet when the men entered.

  “Oh, thank the saints!” Lady Grangemore said, her gaze darting frantically around the room. “Where is my daughter? Is she hurt? Why were you out all night? Who is this man?” Lady Howley shushed her gently and pressed her back onto the settee.

  The guardsman glanced at Peter, who nodded. “Stinson, m’lady, with the Waterguard. I found his lordship unconscious on the beach.”

  “Unconscious?” Lady Howley hurried to Peter’s side, touching his forehead with the back of her hand. “My boy, are you quite well?”

  Peter pushed her hand aside. He still had questions for his godmother and no time to waste if he were to find Judith. “I appreciate your concern, Aunt Gin, but I’m fine. I am far more worried about Judith—Miss Leslie, I mean.”

  “Where is she?” Lady Howley asked.

  Peter tried to think of a way to break the news gently, but he couldn’t. “She, uh, she’s been kidnapped.”

  “What!” the ladies exclaimed together.

  “Judith and I went for a walk on the beach yesterday, and we encountered a group of men I can only assume were smugglers.”

  Lady Howley’s lips pinched together in a straight line, and the vein in her forehead began to pulse. She knew something, and she wasn’t happy.

  Peter threw her a questioning glance, which she ignored, and resumed his narrative. “They gra
bbed us, then took Judith and knocked me unconscious. When I was roused by Mr. Stinson this morning, Judith was gone.”

  Lady Grangemore had gone pale as a ghost, her lower lip trembling.

  “I will find her, my lady, I swear to you,” Peter promised. “I…care for her, more than you can possibly imagine.”

  Her eyes flashed. “You care for her? Then how could you let this happen?”

  “I was only one man, my lady, against four, and I feared challenging them would only make it worse for us. I never thought they’d take Judith.”

  “You are too familiar, sir,” Lady Grangemore growled.

  Lady Howley patted her hand. “Now, now, Margaret, we are in no position to focus on social niceties at the moment. Besides, do you honestly believe Judith can go back on the marriage mart after this? When Lady Wilcox wakes up and gets wind of this, Judith’s reputation will be sullied beyond repair.”

  What little color was left in Lady Grangemore’s face drained completely. She moaned and fell back on the settee. Lady Howley exchanged a glance with Peter—one that promised to answer his questions—before rushing to the aid of yet another fainting guest.

  Peter was entirely at a loss. Worry for Judith settled in his belly, a sharp, persistent ache. His godmother did speak the truth. Judith’s reputation was in tatters, and he was sure word of this adventure was already winging its way back to London. It would be on the lips of every gossip in the ton by tomorrow morning, and there was no way his father wouldn’t hear of it.

  And when he did…oh, it didn’t bear thinking on. Peter had to convince Kingsley to offer for Cassandra, and he had to marry Judith. As soon as possible.

  But first he had to find her.

  He turned to Stinson, who stood silently beside him, shifting his weight from foot to foot, acutely uncomfortable.

  “I need to go after them. Where can I obtain a boat?”

  Clearly relieved to resume discussing things within his comfort level, Stinson shook his head. “Do you even know what to do with a boat?”

  “I live not far from the coast in Durham and have rowed on the Wear most of my life. Of course I know what to do with a boat.”

  Stinson gave a little cough but said nothing.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “Rowing on a river is nothing like rowing on the Channel, m’lord, but I suspect I won’t be able to stop you even if I try.”

  Peter shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

  “Give me an hour then, and we’ll set off. Best get a meal in you first.”

  Lady Howley diverted her attention from a groaning Lady Grangemore to address Peter and the guardsman. “Can I offer refreshment? To both of you?”

  Stinson gave a slight bow. “I do appreciate the offer, m’lady, but I must report to my stationhouse and arrange for a boat for his lordship.”

  Lady Howley nodded then turned to her butler. “Please show our guest out.”

  Once the butler and the guardsman had gone, Lady Howley checked on Lady Grangemore, who appeared to have fallen into a fitful sleep. Lady Howley covered her with a blanket and settled her head more comfortably onto a pillow, then turned to Peter.

  “I need to talk to you.” She led Peter into the hall.

  “I have some questions for you as well, Aunt Gin,” Peter said, once she’d closed the door behind them.

  “I expected as much.”

  “Did you know your caves were being used to store smuggled goods?”

  She was silent for a moment, considering, Peter supposed, whether or not to lie. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, “Yes. They work for me.”

  It was the answer he’d been expecting, but he was nonetheless shocked when it came. The next question came unbidden.

  “Did you know we’d encounter them when you sent us to the cave?”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Of course not. How could you think that of me?”

  “I just discovered you’re a smuggler, Aunt Gin. What I think of you has shifted somewhat.”

  “Fair enough.” She sighed and fell into a chair along the wall. Her face was weary, showing her seventy-odd years for the first time. “I’m sorry, Peter. Truly. This is all my fault. I didn’t expect the shipment until tomorrow, but I never should have left you to explore on your own.”

  Peter sat in the chair beside her, his large frame dwarfing the seat. “Why did you leave us? Of course, I know someone had to accompany Kingsley upstairs, but in retrospect, it would have made far more sense for me to do that. Leaving me alone with Judith would damage her reputation.”

  “Silly boy. That’s why I did it. Then you’d be forced to marry her and would be far happier than you’d ever be married to the beastly shrew your father chose for you. Anyone can see that you and Judith adore each other. I was simply hoping to overcome your parents’ objections by making it impossible for them to refuse you.”

  Peter’s mouth dropped open. This was a side of his godmother he’d never seen. “You are a sly one, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not as if you objected, Peter. You had to know what was happening, at least on some level. Or were you simply too eager to be alone with the comely Miss Leslie?”

  “I will say it crossed my mind to object, but then…” But then he had glanced at Judith, whose lips were wet from her licking them, and all he could think about was kissing her.

  “Ha! I thought as much.” Lady Howley sobered. “But now we must rescue her from this fix I’ve gotten her into. I will leave a message at the pub and instruct them to return Judith unharmed, but it could be days before they get it.”

  “You contact them by leaving messages in a pub?”

  “It’s the way things are done here, Peter; the way they’ve been done for hundreds of years.”

  Peter shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re a smuggler.”

  Lady Howley shrugged, her shoulder blades visible beneath the fabric of her silk gown. “It was a necessity. And you’d be surprised to learn how many peers of the realm are involved in the trade. These big piles we live in are expensive to maintain, you know.”

  “If you were short on funds you could have asked Father. Surely he would have helped.”

  “Perhaps, but he has his own estates to run, and I didn’t want to let on that Howley had left me in such dire straits. Besides, it’s been an adventure.” She patted his knee in a maternal gesture. “Now. I do have a boat, so you needn’t wait for the guardsman to return, although it would be wiser for you to wait—he knows the coast far better than you do. I don’t want to have to rescue you too.”

  “I’ll be fine. I was perusing the map you have mounted in the library. How old is it?”

  “Only about twenty years, but I have a newer one you can take with you if you’re determined.”

  “I am.”

  Lady Howley nodded, her knees creaking as she rose from her chair. “Come, then, my dear. Let’s rescue your lady.”

  ****

  The piercing cry of a gull woke Judith from another dream-filled sleep. This time, fortunately, she dreamed of kissing Peter, not watching him fall, and was reluctant to let the images go.

  She opened her eyes to see a beak startlingly close to her face. She jumped back, only to bang her head on the cave wall. She gingerly touched the spot, wincing as she willed the throbbing to stop.

  The bird cried again.

  Its eyes were yellow, its white feathered head damp. It picked at the sand around Judith’s pallet and studied her boots as if they might contain a tasty morsel.

  “Hello. What are you doing in here?” Judith asked it. She glanced around the cave, which was empty. Voices floated in from the entrance, as did the scent of something roasting in the fire. Her stomach growled, and the bird blinked.

  “Yes, I’m hungry. I’ll bet you are as well.” She realized her hands and feet had been unbound while she slept—Henry, no doubt. She flexed her ankles, then rose and stretched her arms over her head, bending her back. She smooth
ed her skirts and her unruly hair and went out into the sunshine, the bird close at her heels.

  “I see you’ve met Barney, miss,” Henry called. He threw a piece of fish to the bird, who caught it midair and swallowed it with a happy squawk.

  “Barney?”

  “He’s got a damaged wing, so he doesn’t fly very well. Sticks close to the shore. He’s a bit more like a dog than a bird nowadays, truth be told.” He tossed another morsel.

  “I thought I heard voices, but no one else is here. Where are they?”

  “Pa and George walked up the coast a bit to see if the sloop is round the bend, just there.” He pointed down the beach, where the rocks curved. “Shorty’s off doing something. Morning ablutions, I suppose; I don’t ask.”

  Judith didn’t want to think about the man doing ablutions or anything else. “Is the sloop expected today?”

  Henry shrugged. “We always check the appointed place and time, and if it’s not there, we go back the next day.” He shyly handed her a piece of fish, which she accepted gratefully.

  She placed it in her mouth and chewed. Both sweet and salty, it was so tender it almost melted on her tongue. “What is this? It’s divine.”

  Henry smiled, pleased. “It’s lobster, miss.”

  “Truly? I’ve always had it drenched in butter, or in a stew. It’s so delicate.”

  “That hides the flavor, but I bet you’ve never had it this fresh. Caught it this morning. They’re not hard to catch—lobsters are stupid. I’ve got some traps over there,” he said, pointing toward the water. Judith could see something bobbing in the gentle waves. “Then I just cook them inside their shells. You don’t need to add anything to them at all.”

  “You should give up smuggling, Henry, and open a café,” Judith said as she licked the juice off her fingers. “This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever eaten.” She sat on the sand beside him, pleased when he offered her more.

  They sat in companionable silence for a while, eating lobster and drinking what tasted like cider from ceramic bottles.

  “Henry,” Judith asked. “Will you let me go?”