Romancing a Wallflower

by Anna St. Claire

  “Indeed? Your sensibilities mean nothing to me. I do not care for your bonnet,” her mother said icily. Pointedly, she turned to her friend. “If you will excuse us, Madame Chandos? Thank you for your time and I will look for your best attentions, as usual. You will send word when the gowns are complete?”

  “Yes, your ladyship, the moment they are ready.”

  Chapter 14

  A bright afternoon sun woke him. Glancing outside at the position of the golden orb, Harlow judged he had slept for several hours. He pulled out his pocket watch, hoping he had not overslept. Three hours had passed; while it was more than he had expected, they had both been bone weary. The nap had done him good. Once dressed, he walked next door and tapped on Max’s door.

  “’Tis open, Harlow.”

  Harlow pushed open the door to find Max pulling on his boots. “Do you allow anyone to enter?” He scoffed playfully at his friend.

  “I knew it was you. I heard you stamping into your boots and knew you had finished dressing. I presumed you would be here to check on me.” Max covered his bed with the sheet and blanket provided and plumped up his pillows. Without turning, he spoke, “Military training, in case you are thinking of chiding me. It is nice to go to sleep in a bed that looks like no one has slept in it before you.”

  “I want to laugh, I swear I do,” Harlow answered, “despite the fact I do the same thing.” He stared at the bed. “I wish that had been the only habit I had kept from the army,” he added bleakly.

  They found Michael mucking out a stall. The young man set his pitchfork against the wall and helped saddle the horses.

  “Good day to you, m’lords. Yon smith replaced two of the shoes on this one.” He pointed to Max’s horse, Willow. “He replaced the left hind on this one.” He patted Harlow’s horse on the rump. “I’ve fed ’em both some sweet hay and oats and brushed ’em well.”

  “Thank you.” Harlow tossed him two silver shillings. “Give one to the smith for his work and keep the other for yourself.”

  “Thank ye kindly, m’lord!” The young man fingered the shillings in his hands and immediately secured them in his pocket.

  Harlow mounted his mare. “One more thing.”

  “M’lord?” The ostler looked up.

  “I hesitate to ask…have you seen a lady in a red dress? We thought we recognized a friend earlier, a lady who was partaking of luncheon when we arrived. Unfortunately, we just missed her. She left through the side door as we were entering the dining room.”

  Michael’s eyes shifted nervously, and he cast a sidelong glance. Satisfied they were not being observed, he edged closer.

  “M’lords, pardon me impudence, I know that one ain’t no friend of yourn. She comes ’ere often—stays at the tavern across the way. She is a mean one.” He paused, still watchful. “And ’ave a care, the walls about ’ere ’ave ears.” The young man grimaced and lightly tipped his brown felt hat. He cast about the yard once again before walking to the stable door and collecting his pitchfork.

  “That was odd,” Harlow reflected aloud as soon as they had passed the first few buildings.

  “It certainly was,” Max replied.

  “The post office should be about a quarter of a mile down this road, on the right. DeLacey may be there already.” Harlow muttered.

  Max took a big sniff of the air and spoke up loudly as a farmer in a cart approached from around a bend.

  “I like the smell of the coast. My parents were given to taking the family in both warm and cold weather. Mother is convinced that there are healing properties to be had from swimming in the ocean,” Max observed. When the farmer had passed, he turned to Harlow. “My apologies. It was the only thing I could think of when I saw the farmer and wanted to make sure you noticed the white horse,” he said as he gestured with his head to emphasize the horse now behind him.

  “Your sudden excursion into the realms of memory stirred me from my reverie. Thank you,” he responded sarcastically. “Since you bring up the topic, are you familiar with the contraptions employed by women to swim in the ocean?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Men can strip down and at once immerse themselves in the waves. Women, however, wear enough clothing to sink a small vessel. To be required to be pulled out to sea in a bathhouse on wheels seems over done,” Harlow added. “Has your mother ever tried that?” he asked.

  “Good God, Harlow, this is no time for such notions. “I do not even want to think of my mother in a bathing-machine, rolling into the sea. Besides, it is doubtful we will see anything like that off the Cornish coast. The ocean floor is too rocky,” Max retorted.

  “Are you saying you wish they could remove all their clothing and jump straight in the water?” Harlow persisted, full of mirth. “That would certainly have a few healing properties for me. What say you?”

  “Enough. I wish I had not said anything. Keep your mind on our task,” Max countered. They turned off the road onto the gravelled one before the building that shared the post office and the local draper’s shop. “It looks abandoned. I imagined people would be here,” he added as they dismounted and walked their horses towards the back of the property.

  “Today is Saturday. I do not believe it is open every day. However, I cannot agree no one is here. It is a walkable distance. Anyone could arrive.”

  They tied their horses in the shade of a large oak tree and waited. When they were involved in a commission such as this, they watched the opposite sides of the property. Max tapped his friend when he spotted DeLacey step from behind a massive mulberry bush, leading his horse behind him.

  “A praiseworthy entrance,” Harlow remarked. “I had not considered hiding in a mulberry bush until now. They make excellent cover.” He strode over and pulled off a twig of black fruit. Mulberry bushes and other shrubs made up a garden area that appeared long since abandoned. “An excellent resource,” he said, popping one of the mulberries into this mouth.

  “I rather like them myself,” DeLacey retorted wryly. He looked around and motioned them together. “I think we discussed the farmer’s signal, did we not?”

  “The white horse and the farmer we spoke of with Cressey in Town?” Harlow tested, making sure they were the same. “I think we met him just now as we rode through town.”

  “The very one. He rode back earlier this morning, along the ridge. It fits. The Prince Regent told me he expects a large shipment of confiscated brandies and laces from France to pass through. A small payroll was also rumoured to be included on the boat. It is manned by Lieutenant Pelham, whose star is rising in the British Navy since he has been reclaiming goods for the government. His ship just took down two pirate ships while on patrol. These are goods that were confiscated.

  “So, this ship sails through tomorrow night?” Harlow declared more than asked.

  DeLacey nodded.

  “I assume Pelham knows the importance of this operation and is in on the deceit,” Max said in a questioning tone.

  “You have the right of it. The free traders dream of finding a bounty of supplies such as this. The Prince Regent wants to save this ship and its cargo and intends we trap the traitor. Only two other people within the navy know the route Pelham will take—the Admiral and his secretary.”

  “The Rear Admiral?” Harlow put his question matter-of-factly and glanced at Max. This was not the first operation where they had suspected someone in high authority of alerting the enemy.

  “I notice this surprises neither of you. The secretary, however, is unaware of the trap,” DeLacey acknowledged in a low voice. “His guilt seems conclusive if the signal I described turns out to be true. If this ship is lured and attacked, we snare both the snitch and the head of this smuggling ring. That is the most important outcome. Alert your associate within the Dragoons and bid them be hidden, ready to attack, before nightfall,” DeLacey ordered, marking off each instruction with his fingers. “You have both met my contact.”

  Harlow looked up, startled. The only people they had met were the ostler and th
e innkeeper’s family, although they had also caught a glimpse of the widow.

  “Of course. Michael,” he said, inclining his head.

  “Yes,” DeLacey replied in a smug tone. “Tip him the nod when you need to get word to me. We can trust him. He has proven himself invaluable to me. The smugglers falsely accused his uncle of collaborating with the Revenue men and killed him. I liked the man. He was a good man and the only father Michael has known. He seeks to avenge his uncle’s death.

  “I see,” Harlow responded. He hoped Michael’s loyalty, based as it was on revenge, would prove solid. This was a perilous mission.

  “Have you become familiar with the caves along the coast—the caves under the castle?

  “Somewhat. We have been watching the area off and on for a year, now, using your father’s property to gain access,” Max responded.

  “Excellent! I found a little-known cave located close to King’s Cave. Large boulders and shrubs hide its narrow opening, and there are no signs of use for many a long year. I will meet you there before noon tomorrow.” DeLacey dropped to his knees and sketched a drawing in the sandy loam of the yard. “This is the line of the cliffs and here is the cave I am using.” He drew the shore and explained how to get to King’s Cave. Pointing out the location of his cave, he drew what resembled a bend to the coast and placed an X on a rendering of a cave. “This is where we think they are operating from.”

  “We watched men coming and going from that cave, moving cargo,” Max supplied. He glanced at Harlow.

  DeLacey was silent for a moment before speaking. “The Prince Regent’s orders are to get the leader and save the ship and its cargo. This will get dangerous. A lantern will signal the boat, and Pelham will drift close to the coast. His sloop is fast, well armoured, turns easily, and can also easily hug close to the coast. A ruthless woman leads the gang. You already suspect her.”

  “The widow Poinz,” Harlow murmured.

  “Exactly. She has free rein around here. The villagers help her because they benefit, yet they fear her. Normally, she runs the enterprise from London. According to Michael, a dark-haired, wiry man is her co-conspirator. He wears a strange, curving moustache. I have not seen him, and we have been powerless to catch the widow with her smuggling operation. Your information relating to her recent behaviour confirmed several things we suspected. Lady Poinz turned her late husband’s many holdings into shielding and commerce opportunities for her operation; however, her own carelessness has led us to suspect her. The woman has no consideration for people, and she retaliates at the merest slight.” DeLacey grew silent for a moment. “My sources confirm she has arrived to oversee this attack. The village supports her, as I have said. I believe they are all too frightened for their skins to do otherwise. Even the local vicar blesses their efforts in the fair trade. The six Revenue men who were killed in their cutter off the shore here, lost their lives trying to catch her. The villagers know her and provide cover, and we cannot arrest the whole town. The Prince Regent has made it known he will brand her as a traitor and hang her if we catch her, despite her peerage.”

  “We saw her,” Harlow said flatly. His concern for Lilian advanced immeasurably, even though the widow’s attraction to him made no sense. “Lady Poinz appeared, somewhat oddly, in the inn—she was fleeing from the side door as we entered the dining room.”

  “Perhaps she wanted you to see her.” DeLacey cleared the sand, wiping all evidence away before he stood up. “You have piqued the widow’s interest. Her accomplice works closely with her. Watch for anyone following you.”

  “We will.” Harlow’s feelings for Lilian created a vulnerability he could not deny.

  “If that is all, we have another engagement,” Max added dryly as they shook hands and turned for their horses.

  “My father is expecting you. Be careful about being followed,” DeLacey repeated to their backs.

  “We make it our business to be aware of our surroundings,” Max growled harshly.

  “We appreciate your help, Cressey. Do not misjudge our abilities in this operation,” Harlow said in a dangerous tone he had employed on many previous such occasions. “We will meet you at the cave tomorrow.”

  DeLacey solemnly acknowledged the point with a slight nod of his head.

  “The blighter will be your brother-in-law one day,” Max murmured when they were far enough away.

  Harlow said nothing. He was unsure what to say. The two men untied their horses and rode towards Elysium Manor. When they made their way up the drive, a light brown carriage with the Yarstone crest pulled away from the door and headed towards the stables.

  “Not much stands between Viscount Yarstone and Lady Lydia DeLacey,” Max quipped, and both men guffawed.

  “We should be more surprised not to see him,” added Harlow. “He informed me he plans to offer for Lady Lydia. The DeLacey family left sooner than he had expected, which may have foiled his romantic proposal. While he knows nothing of our operation, he is very attentive, and it could be fortuitous that he is here.”

  “I sense your worry about Lady Lilian. Perhaps this visit can allay some concerns,” Max said with sincerity.

  “You always read me so well. Yet it continually startles me when you reveal my thoughts so succinctly,” Harlow whispered, adding, “I hope you are right.” They handed their horses to a waiting groom and made their way up the steps.

  Chambers greeted them at the door. “Welcome, Lord Harlow; Lord Worsley. Lord Avalon is in his study. He is expecting you,” the retainer offered. He received their outdoor apparel and hung the various items on the coat stand. “Please to follow me.”

  The door to the study opened and Cooper walked out, followed by Lilian carrying a book in her lap.

  “Thank you, Father,” she was saying. “I…” She stopped when she saw the two men approaching. “This is a surprise,” she said. “I was just going to my room to start a new book.” She motioned down at the tome.

  Her puppy, perhaps jealous, jumped into her lap on top of the leather-bound object.

  “Cooper, behave,” she commanded. “He has not met Lord Worsley before. I have also observed some rather protective behaviours since we have been home,” she explained.

  Both men bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Lilian.”

  She held out her hand and Harlow feathered a kiss on the back of it as manners dictated. Warmth suddenly radiated up from his collar when he noticed her father watching them.

  “Perhaps you can spare a few minutes to sit in the garden after I meet with Lord Avalon.”

  “I would like that. I will be in the parlour,” Lilian replied. “Come along, Cooper, let us be about our business and leave the gentlemen to theirs.” The dog jumped down from her lap and bounded towards the front of the house. Winston appeared out of nowhere and pushed her to the parlour.

  That man certainly keeps an eye on her, Harlow thought, watching them retreat.

  “Gentlemen. Please come in,” Lord Avalon’s voice broke into Harlow’s thoughts. “I alerted my Countess this morning that you would be here, so I am not sure how much of a surprise your appearance was to my daughter,” he said with a wink.

  Harlow and Max took the seats in front of his desk. The Earl’s ebony desk sat in the centre of the room with a large picturesque window behind him, covered with green velvet curtains. A large fireplace sat on the wall to his left. Harlow’s attention was immediately drawn to the painting hanging above the mantel. It pictured the Countess, seated and playing with two toddler girls while an older boy stood beside her chair, looking on. The girls were identical, except for their eyes, which the artist had captured beautifully. Fully stocked bookcases covered both sides of the room.

  “I ordered a platter of sandwiches earlier. In the meantime, would either of you care for refreshment?” He opened a small cabinet to the side of his desk and took out a decanter of brandy and three glasses.

  “Yes, thank you. We ate a light meal at the inn before we left this mornin
g,” Harlow said, accepting a glass. “We need to apprise you of what we have learned,” he added.

  “I would appreciate being taken into your confidence. I confess there is something I need to tell you, as well. Perhaps I should start,” Lord Avalon answered.

  “My son, who I know you have been meeting with, made known to me that I should increase security, so I engaged a small number of guards before I left London. Two men arrived a few hours ago, while the ladies were out shopping, and are settling into an empty tenant’s cottage. He waved vaguely in the direction behind him. “I have also asked Winston to keep a closer eye on Lilian and Lydia.”

  “We noticed Yarstone’s carriage when we arrived. Is he aware of anything?” Max ventured.

  “No. He is here to court my daughter Lydia. Apparently, we left town too soon for his convenience.” He chuckled lightly. “We have invited him to stay. The welcome extends to the two of you. The inns can be a bit rough in these parts and we have plenty of room.”

  A twinge of jealousy coursed through Harlow’s veins, and he struggled against it. “We appreciate the offer, sir, and will consider that. Yarstone seems to have her best interests at heart,” he acknowledged.

  “Yes, I believe he does,” the older man murmured. “I have a new concern and the more I dismiss it, the more I find I cannot. It has consumed me today,” he continued. “Earlier today my head groom mentioned a strange occurrence which happened.”

  Harlow’s insides knotted as he leaned forward towards the Earl.

  “My head groom told me a lantern fell yesterday afternoon while my girls were visiting their horses. Strangely, the lantern had been lit earlier, yet it was out when it hit the ground. The wick was not even warm. Barney checked. He had filled it with fuel not long before my daughters visited.

  The lantern is very large and heavy. It provides an abundance of light in front of the stable and also serves the entrance—in fact, my father placed it on a sturdy hook many years ago, and I do not believe anyone has had occasion to move it.”