Page 36 of The Smuggler’s Escape

“I’m sure he’s fascinating in bed.” Lady Ariadne’s smirk hinted at sordid complicities.

Noelle grimaced coyly in return.

Lady Ariadne appeared to ponder. “There are advantages to a man with vast experience, but the dangers of debauchery are quite terrifying, aren’t they? Rake’s diseases are frightful, but I imagine it’s too late to consider that.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fortunately, I have little to worry about. My dear Sir William seldom strays.”

Noelle refrained from asking how Lady Ariadne could possibly know the extent of Sir William’s infidelities when he was so frequently away from home.

“It is a foregone conclusion that Lord Boltwood will stray—once a libertine, always a libertine, you know—but I suppose, being French, you are accustomed to such arrangements, dear Noelle.”

Noelle bit back an observation that the English were, if anything, more lascivious than the French, without the mitigating quality of Reason. “C’est la vie,” she replied, with what she hoped was a sufficiently Gallic shrug.

In the schoolroom, the governess had already set up the easels for Lady Ariadne’s daughters. Emma and Louise jumped up from their books and slates, all plaits and muslin and hasty curtseys. “Bonjour, mademoiselle!” they cried, and then, prompted by their mother, “Félicitations!” Noelle accepted their congratulations awkwardly and set them up before their easels to sketch a still life of apples and pears. Once the governess had left the room, she sat down with more reluctance than usual to her twice-weekly game of piquet with their mother. She enjoyed teaching the girls, but playing piquet just badly enough to beat Lady Ariadne by a small margin qualified as torment, pure and simple.

Today was worse. What with fretting about the brandy, reminding herself that escaping England would mean escaping life with a libertine as well, sneaking glances out the window, and forgetting to keeping an eye on the cards each time she left the table to help the girls, a nerve-wracking hour crawled by. She had lost her entire morning’s pay and more to a crowing Lady Ariadne by the time the butler’s stately footsteps sounded in the passageway.

“Lord Boltwood has arrived, my lady, to fetch Mademoiselle de Vallon.”

“How lovely!” Lady Ariadne gathered the cards. “We’ll be downstairs directly. Perhaps I shall try my skill at piquet against Lord Boltwood.”

“His lordship is in the stables, my lady, speaking with Jackson about a hunter.” The butler cleared his throat and bowed to Noelle. “Begging your pardon, miss, but Lord Boltwood asked me to say that he is extremely pressed for time.”

This was doubtless a softened version of a peremptory command. Noelle gave thanks for Richard’s well-known rudeness, said goodbye to Emma and Louise, and hurried down the stairs in Lady Ariadne’s wake.

In the stable yard, Richard was examining a showy bay, while Jackson stood by and a groom walked Richard’s curricle and pair of matched greys back and forth.

Groom? That was no groom, but Will Dalbey. How dare Richard bring Will here in broad daylight to move the contraband!

“Good day, Lady Ariadne,” Richard said. “My mother charged me with a message to you.” He waved a dismissive hand at Jackson. “Take the bay away and bring Mademoiselle de Vallon’s mare.”

He beckoned to Will to bring the curricle forward, reached into the compartment under the seat, and pulled out Noelle’s hat. “Your bonnet, my love.” His eyes caressed her before he returned to Lady Ariadne. “Now, since I have no manners at all, how did my mother phrase it? A cozy little dinner tomorrow, with just a few close friends to celebrate the engagement, due to being in mourning. Will you come?”

Lady Ariadne hurried through acceptance and congratulations to the crux of the matter. “Will there be cards, do you suppose?”

Noelle stopped in the act of placing the bonnet over her curls. She grimaced meaningfully at Richard.

He widened his eyes a fraction, but otherwise ignored her. “I expect so. My mother is partial to games of chance.”

“I, too, as you well know.” Lady Ariadne leaned eagerly toward Richard. “Say you will play piquet with me tomorrow night!”

Noelle gave her head a tiny shake, and when Richard appeared not to notice, she pinched his arm. He glanced down at her with a mocking grin.

“Mademoiselle de Vallon plays with me often, and my game is much improved. Today, for the first time, I not only won, but fleeced her!” Lady Ariadne pouted. “Since we were playing for farthing points, it only amounted to a few shillings.”

Noelle scowled at Richard and tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin.

“If you can fleece Noelle,” Richard said mournfully, “I fear you will utterly destroy me. Noelle is a far better player than I.” He dug in his coat pocket and handed Noelle her gloves. “I do not wish to disparage your skill, Lady Ariadne, but perhaps Noelle is preoccupied today.” His gaze ran over Noelle again. “I certainly am.”

Was that all he ever thought about?

Yes. Of course it was. That was the hallmark of a libertine.

Lady Ariadne’s laugh grated on Noelle. “Dear, fortunate Mademoiselle de Vallon, anticipating a wedding night with you, Lord Boltwood!” She gave him an arch look, making Noelle wish she could slap her. She cocked her head at Noelle. “My dear, I almost envy you your handsome, virile, vastly experienced fiancé.”

Noelle’s stomach lurched. She did her best to appear indifferent.

“Tsk,” Richard said. “You shouldn’t have listened to my father, Lady Ariadne. He wanted so badly to take pride in me that he spread false reports of my prowess with the ladies. I’m just an ordinary fellow, when all’s said and done.”

Lady Adriadne tittered. “So modest! I’m sure your wedding night will be delightful, Noelle.”