Victoria’s brows furrowed. Robert was known as the Duke of Spice, but this was ridiculous. There had to be hundreds of them.
She picked one up. It was empty. She picked up another. Empty. Why was he hiding all these empty spice crates? And if they were all empty, then where was the spice?
Her gaze landed on a newish-looking barrel, one which was marked differently to the others. Cold dread slid down her spine as she picked it up and read the name on the side. This one was marked Tolley Estate.
Oh god. All these barrels of spice. Were they the ones which had been stolen from the East India Company? And if they were, that would make her husband…
“A spice smuggler.”
Is that why he came here in the dead of night, to take the spices he’d stolen from the EIC and put them into his own barrels, and then on sell them at market?
No. No. No.
A strangled laugh escaped her lips. If this was indeed the truth, her mother would have a conniption. This wonderful, smart marriage to a duke was meant to secure the Duchess of Mowbray’s position at the head of thehaut ton. Her daughter was a duchess, with a spotless reputation, free from scandal.
What am I going to tell Mama?
She could just imagine the conversation with Lady Anne. “By the way Mama, did I happen to mention that I married the pirate Blackbeard? No? But there is nothing to worry about, he’s only stealing huge amounts of spices from the East India.”
Victoria dropped to her knees amongst the empty spice crates and put her head in her hands.
“This is a disaster. What on earth am I going to do?”
The click of a pistol being cocked split the empty silence of the night. “What you are going to do is put your hands up and get slowly to your feet.”
She lifted her head and took in the masked stranger who walked into the bunker. He was dressed in a black suit, black coat, and a black bandana covered the lower half of his face. Even his hair was sable. The only thing about his person which was not that particular shade was the silver pistol he held in his hand.
A pistol which was aimed straight at Victoria’s head.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
He couldn’t wait to get home, to climb into bed and cuddle up with his wife. Robert was quietly hoping Victoria might still be awake, and they would come together and make love. Her touch was something he had become addicted to in the short time since they’d been wed.
It was close to midnight, and he was utterly exhausted. He’d had little sleep over the past two days, and the journey to Cambridge and back again had sapped the last of his reserves of energy. Robert drew comfort in the knowledge that taking a temporary step back from all the stealing, smuggling, and lying would give him the time to ponder his future. To hopefully seek and find the answers which still lay somewhere out of his reach.
The steady clip clop of the horses, combined with the soft jangle of the wagon chains, lulled Robert into a waking stupor. His grip on the reins was light; he trusted his horse to know the way home. They were close to the laneway, and soon they would turn off the main Saffron Walden road, and head toward Tolley Manor.
Soon he would be home.
A shrill whistle stirred Robert from his half slumber. Lifting his head, he caught sight of the lead wagon as it came to a halt. Both the driver and his assistant held up their left arms, fists clenched. A signal. The men in the second wagon followed suit.
Robert spurred his horse forward but kept his mount to a walk. If there was danger ahead, they had to move as quietly as possible.
Reaching the front wagon, he dismounted and made his way over to the driver. “What’s happening?” he asked.
The man pointed in the direction of the nearby laneway. “There is a horse in the lane. And I think I just heard voices.”
Holy hell.
He was about to ask another question when the sound of a wagon being moved reached his ears. Robert and the driver exchanged a nod. The other man had heard it too.
“Right, now remember our back-up plan. I want you to continue on this road, and circle back to Saffron Walden. When you reach the Cross Key Inn, put the horses and wagons in their stables. Take rooms for the night. I’ll send word in the morning when it’s safe to come back to Tolley Manor.”
He motioned to the estate worker in the second wagon. “Stanley, head over the fields and make your way back to the manor. Rouse Mister Jasper and tell him that something is amiss in the laneway and for him to bring his rifle. Go quickly and quietly.”
Robert reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, enough to cover any expenses, and handed them to the driver. “Take care when you pass the end of the laneway, and at the first sign of trouble, don’t hesitate to shoot.”
He would do his all to protect his men, but they also understood what would happen to them if the authorities came looking. A man facing a long prison sentence or transportation to the colonies didn’t have time to think twice about firinghis weapon. Stanley climbed down from the second wagon and bolted for the fields, heading across country toward the manor house.
