Page 51 of The Smuggler’s Escape

“Fetch that potted plant, Will,” Richard ordered, gesturing casually in the direction from which they had come. “I’ll let you know where to unload all the vegetation.”

Noelle glanced uneasily at the cart. Will couldn’t possibly have delivered the brandy in such a short time. He hadn’t even gone in the direction of the livery stable. How dare Richard ask Will to unload the plants, bulbs and soil first, leaving the tubs of brandy exposed? Will would be in grave danger of capture on the way to the livery stables.

Will, though, gave the appearance of complete tranquility. Perhaps his sixth sense was working.

It would be insane to count on such a sense in this situation.

Richard, all languid unconcern, let the knocker fall against the door.

Fury rose into Noelle’s throat. She’d already made a spectacle of herself today. Once more wouldn’t matter. She grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him off the doorstep, leaving his mother and Lucretia gaping.

She pressed herself against him as if in the grasp of helpless passion, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Into his ear, she hissed, “Have you lost your wits? Didn’t you see Lieutenant Hale?”

Richard obligingly put his arms around her and held her close. “Of course, my love.” His warm breath bathed her cheek.

“You mustn’t let Will unload the plants first! Where is Tommy?”

Richard poised his lips a fraction of an inch from Noelle’s. “At the livery stable, I presume, waiting for the curricle and coach. Did you not ask me to change our plans?” He was shaking, drat it.

With laughter. Again.

Everything fell into place, and Noelle should have been pleased—ecstatic, even—but instead she cursed at him in French no lady should know, and shoved herself away from him.

“You mean I made a spectacle of myself for nothing?” she raged.

“Twice,” Richard said, between one gust of laughter and another.

“You—You—” Words failed her, or at least words strong enough to express her fury. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d hidden kegs in the carriage instead of the cart?”

“You didn’t give me much opportunity, love.” Richard clutched his stomach, gasping for breath. “What with all your carrying on, the subject never came up.”

He finally stopped laughing and straightened himself. “Besides, it was much more fun this way.” He left the ladies at Mrs. Ponsonby’s door, promising to meet them shortly at the Crown. “I have some business to take care of,” he said, and sauntered off.

What a ridiculous excuse, Noelle thought grimly. He couldn’t keep himself away from the perfect Miss Darsington. He must be desperately in love with her to put up with such a ghastly mother-in-law. And desperate to placate her—and her mother, too.

In which case, why had he asked Noelle to marry him last night? Lust, that’s all it was. He would bed her and abandon her, just as before.

She refused to let his perfidy upset her. She had more important matters on her mind.

She couldn’t afford to waste time chatting with the ladies. She mustn’t let Richard distract her or get in her way. So far, he was proving helpful, but he was also controlling her every move. She must take hold of her own fate before catastrophe struck.

“I, too, have a business matter to take care of,” she said as Lady Boltwood and Lucretia crossed the threshold of Mrs. Ponsonby’s house. “I’ll meet you at the Crown, too.”

Before they had a chance to object, she hurried away. Glancing up and down the street, she noted with relief that Richard was nowhere to be seen. If he knew of her errand, he would likely prevent her, ruining all.

She went first to the bank, where she met with old Mr. Wiggins, who treated her kindly despite knowing her for a fallen woman—for what else would he assume when an aristocrat had opened an account for her? She withdrew every penny, bade him good day, and proceeded to Mr. Barnes, the jeweler, where she spent most of her savings on a diamond necklace, a couple of gold and ruby bracelets, and a truly gaudy brooch. She wouldn’t be able to sell them for their full value, but she couldn’t spend English banknotes on the Continent. With the jewelry added to what she had accumulated at home, as well as the good solid coin for the contraband, she would do well enough. Not as much as she’d hoped, but . . .

She hurried to the Crown Inn. If only there were some other way to add to her savings, here and now. But she had no more money, nothing to sell, and . . .

A notion crept up on her. A scandalous notion—but she was in peril of her life, so scandal hardly mattered. She was furious at Richard and in some ways despised him, but she also wanted him.

Carnally, that is. His kisses made her well-nigh delirious with pleasure. She longed for more of those kisses, and since she couldn’t wed him, why not enjoy what she could now?

Dare she? She’d had a disaster plan before, so why not implement a similar one now?

She must.

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