Page 31 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Chapter 8

“My dear Mama,” Richard said, “there isn’t the slightest chance that I will marry Dorothea Darsington.” He handed her his handkerchief. “Please don’t cry.” His father was gone at last, and she wasn’t supposed to cry any more.

“You don’t know her mother.” Lady Boltwood caught herself on a sob and wiped her eyes. “She’s a horridly determined sort of person. She’s frightfully good at making people do whatever she wants.”

“No one can make me do what I don’t want.” Except Noelle, it seemed. “Why do you think she expects me to offer for Miss Darsington? Dot has no notion of marrying me.”

“Because she wrote to say it was most important that I meet her daughter, and that she anticipated a close relationship between our families.” She blew her nose.

“That does sound grim.” He had expected talk as a consequence of paying court to Dorothea at a number of events, but that was one of the hazards of espionage. A convenient one, for seemingly it had convinced his ailing father that he had forgotten Noelle.

It was one thing to pretend to be head over ears for Dorothea to gain the entrée into certain circles, and another entirely to appear to have compromised the poor girl. Fortunately, he was engaged to Noelle now, more or less.

“No matter how lovely Dorothea is, I couldn’t bear to be obliged to associate with Miranda Darsington for the rest of my life.” Another tear rolled down his mother’s cheek.

“Definitely not, if it makes you cry.” Richard ate a crust of toast in two bites. “Not to worry, though. She can’t expect me to offer for Dot when I’m already engaged to Noelle.”

His poor mother wiped the tear away. “Richard, you’re making no sense at all.” She sniffled, blew her nose again, and returned the handkerchief. “I shan’t cry anymore.” She dipped a morsel of the roll into the egg. “You just said Noelle doesn’t want to marry you.”

“She says she doesn’t. I don’t believe her, so I refused her refusal of my offer.”

“You can’t do that! It’s unheard of.”

“Nevertheless, I have done it, and I intend to marry her, whatever she says. I shall send for a special license today.”

His mother bristled. “You may not force Noelle into marriage.” She paused, frowning. “Although she’ll be completely ruined if you don’t. If she has a scruple, it must be addressed. There is no conceivable reason why she would meet you clandestinely—at the Pig in a Poke, of all noisome places—if she didn’t intend to marry you.”

“If it comes to that, she shouldn’t have met me in her uncle’s garden, either.”

“The garden? When?”

“Last evening. We were interrupted by the excisemen, so we elected to continue our discussion at the alehouse. In any event, she has agreed to a temporary engagement. I suppose I’d better tell you all about it.”

Which he did, while his mother ate her breakfast. He omitted all mention of smugglers and traitors, concluding, “She says she’ll jilt me once the scandal has died down.”

His mother buttered a slice of toast, spread it with marmalade, and passed it to Richard. “It may die down, but if she jilts you it will flare right back up. You’ve compromised her thoroughly. She must marry you, and speedily.”

“I know that, Mother. She says she doesn’t care about her reputation.” He set the toast on his plate.

“Don’t be foolish. Not only that, she has been pining for you these two years and more. She never asked about you even once, and showed no interest at all when your name came up in conversation.”

“That proves she missed me?” He pushed the plate with the toast next to the one with the cold kidneys.

“Naturally.” She frowned into her coffee and then at Richard. “Eat your toast. You need to keep up your strength.”

Richard ate his toast without tasting it, while his mother prepared another and set it on his plate.

“You don’t suppose—” His mother had the grace to look uneasy. “You don’t suppose she’s with child by some other man?”

“No,” Richard said shortly.

“Most women would jump at your offer under any circumstances, much less in that sort of predicament.”

Richard shook his head. “She wouldn’t foist a bastard on me, Mama, but I don’t think that’s her reason for refusing me. She says we shan’t suit.”

“What nonsense. Does she not realize the peril of her situation? If she jilts you, Sir Matthew may throw her into the street.” She pondered. “Which hardly matters, since I would be happy to have her here, but she might refuse to come, and it would be decidedly awkward if she has developed an aversion to you.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a matter of aversion.” She had seemed to enjoy his kiss, after all.