Page 101 of The Smuggler’s Escape

“I must be off home,” Sir Matthew said. “For all I know, these useless servants of mine have miscounted, and a truly valuable horse has been taken. Lady Boltwood, may I borrow one of your hacks, and meanwhile beg your hospitality for my wife? The coach moves far too slowly, and I must leave at once.”

“Of course,” began Richard’s mother, tossing orders to various servants, but any moment now she would finish the arrangements and Lady Darsington would shove her oar in yet again.

“Richard,” Dorothea whispered and beckoned fiercely. “Johnny and I have a plan.”

Impatiently, Richard strode over to her.

“If we cannot produce Noelle, my mother will put the worst possible interpretation on this event. She might even send our groom for the magistrate.”

How could they hush up the treason with the whole blasted county involved?

Richard didn’t care. All he wanted was Noelle safe, and the rest of the world could go hang. In Lady Ariadne’s case literally, with his blessing. He shrugged and turned away.

“We’ll distract her,” Dorothea hissed. “Tell her I’ve run off with Johnny Magee and you’re riding to rescue me. I’ll leave a note for her to make sure she believes you. We’ll hide in Noelle’s room and lock the door.”

Into the strained silence that followed, Holmes said, “An excellent notion, miss.”

Dorothea blurted, “You approve?”

“Where the welfare of my master and future mistress is concerned, my sentiments are irrelevant.” Holmes moved grandly down the hall to give the despised tinker his arm, Dorothea hurrying after.

Richard composed himself and started down the stairs as the butler closed the door on Sir Matthew and his servant.

Lady Darsington clapped a dramatic hand to her breast. “I knew it! I knew she was a viper in your bosom. If only you had listened to me, Phoebe.”

Everyone stared. The library door opened and Lady Ariadne emerged on Harry Walsh’s arm.

“It’s plain as a pikestaff.” Lady Darsington advanced on Lady Boltwood, jabbing the air with a finger. “Mademoiselle de Vallon is the spy, just as I surmised.”

Lucretia Tifton burst into tears.

Lady Boltwood put her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “Stuff and nonsense!”

Lady Darsington poked her finger at Lady Boltwood’s chest. “You’re blinded by partiality, Phoebe. She’s stolen a horse and made off for France.”

Lady Boltwood’s furious voice broke into Lady Darsington’s torrent of accusations. “I have borne enough! If I hear one more word against Noelle, you vile, disgusting slanderer, I’ll throw you out of my house!”

“Good for you, Mama!” Richard said, but his eyes were on Lady Ariadne, who clutched Lord Harry’s arm as if she might drop at any second.

Lady Boltwood marched up to her despised guest. “In fact, I’d throw you out this minute if it weren’t already evening. You’re not welcome here. You never were welcome here. I never liked you and I never shall!”

Lady Darsington’s eyes bulged. “You will regret this discourtesy, Phoebe Boltwood! I will leave immediately!” She stamped toward the stairs, bellowing, “Dorothea!”

Richard put out a hand to forestall her. “I’m terribly sorry, Lady Darsington, but that would be unwise. I should like word with you alone.”

“I don’t need your assistance, Richard.” Lady Boltwood motioned to the butler. “Have my precious Hepplewhite chairs, as well as the Persian carpet, moved out of that woman’s bedchamber. Only a guest of honor deserves those.” She glared. “I’ll have them moved to Noelle’s room.”

Lady Darsington stamped her foot. “If she didn’t steal the horse, where is she?” Spittle flew as she cried, “Do you see her? I don’t!”

“She’s upstairs, of course.” Lady Boltwood headed for the staircase. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“I think not,” Richard said with an assumption of calm. “Noelle is suffering from migraine. The last person she would wish to see is Lady Darsington.”

“Oh, poor Noelle!” Lucretia said, hurrying toward the stairs. “I must attend to her.”

Lady Ariadne’s eyes widened, and she gave a frightened gasp. Richard shot her a look so fraught with meaning that she quailed and sank against Lord Harry.

“Thank you, Lady Tifton,” Richard said. “I have asked Holmes, my valet, to prepare a tisane for Noelle. Perhaps you would like to consult with him? Here he comes, splendid fellow.”