Page 57 of The Smuggler’s Escape

“Witness this disgrace of a girl, Lucretia!” Sir Matthew bellowed. “Noelle isn’t listening to a word we say!”

“I fear Noelle is beyond anyone’s control,” Lady Boltwood said. “Even my son’s. I suspect, however, that Richard sees her as an enjoyable challenge rather than a problem,” she went on serenely. “They are very well suited.”

Which was extraordinarily kind of her ladyship. She would make an excellent mother-in-law, thought Noelle sadly. She glanced away and encountered the cold hatred of Lady Darsington’s gaze.

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Richard went first of all to Madame Lisette’s shop. Madame’s sharp little nose quivered like a fox’s scenting a kill when she realized the profitable custom headed her way.

“I’m not sure what mood my Noelle will be in, you see,” he said. “Like all Frenchwomen, she’s contrary.”

Mme. Lisette, a Belgian, agreed with this assessment, while suggesting that in chère Mademoiselle de Vallon this usually deplorable characteristic was delightful.

Richard grinned down at her. “I certainly find it so, Madame. I never know what sort of dance she’ll lead me next. She and I have just had a little tiff. I have no notion whether she’ll refuse to purchase anything or try to spend all my money at once. I’m sure, however, that with your customary tact you’ll manage both her and my mother, while providing Noelle with the best of everything.”

“Bien sûr, monsieur.” Madame rubbed her thin hands together. “I assure you of the utmost satisfaction.”

“One other thing, which will satisfy me even more.” Richard bent and spoke very low, in French this time.

Mme. Lisette’s cheeks turned pink.

“Again, everything of the finest,” Richard went on. “My mother’s not to know, but if you can get Noelle alone for a second or two, do tell her. She adores surprises.”

Pleased with himself, he went next to the Fountain Inn to write a letter to Sir Frederick Darsington. Not, of course, to invite him to visit at Boltwood Manor for a day. That had merely been an excuse to get his direction immediately. One had to give Dot credit for being quick on the uptake, but then, Sir Frederick wouldn’t use her in covert business if she weren’t a bright girl.

He requested pen, paper and ale, and sat at a corner table to compose his missive. He had to put a stop to Lieutenant Hale’s persecution of Noelle, but the fellow was only doing his job, and doing it unusually well, judging by the tales he’d heard from Will and Tommy this morning. He had to give the fellow credit for courage. Twice now, he’d warned the man off, and Hale continued maddeningly to persevere.

It was more than just Noelle, though; Richard couldn’t have frustrated excisemen attacking tenants and destroying his property, and he’d rather his free-trading friends, particularly Will and Tommy, weren’t endangered more than a reasonable amount for doing what they and their ancestors had done for hundreds of years.

Not only that, he rather thought such a quick-thinking fellow, who was not averse to violent means, was wasted as a revenuer.

Far be it from me, he wrote, to criticize such a diligent representative of His Majesty’s Excise Office, but the fellow is a devilish nuisance. If the smuggling efforts here continue to be hampered, I fear our traitor will run his correspondence from further down the coast. The larger gangs of smugglers there are prone to violence and will not refrain from treasonous dealings for an extra guinea or two. The smugglers near Boltwood Manor, on the other hand, are good solid Englishmen who would be shocked to hear in what a foul way they have been used. Their willingness to cooperate with me, due to friendship and age-old allegiance, makes catching the traitor in action much more likely.

He saw no need to mention the complete indifference of the smugglers to the struggles between their government and that of France. They had carried on their commerce for centuries, regardless of the follies of kings and ministers, and would continue to do so. However, they would resent being duped.

If you would be so kind as to remove Lieutenant Hale from command, I believe I shall be able to resolve the matter quickly. He pondered, adding a few more sentences about the lieutenant’s abilities, and finally a postscript:

My money is not on the man, but rather his wife.

As he dusted the sand off his letter, one of the smugglers walked into the Fountain. The groom’s bow, scarcely more than a nod, verged on insolence.

Richard eyed him. “Jackson, isn’t it?” This selfsame groom, who’d pretended to show him a hunter that morning, was relatively new in Sir William Luttrow’s service, and not necessarily to be trusted like the others Richard had known all his life.

“Yes, my lord.” Jackson’s words were reasonably polite, but his expression wasn’t.

Richard folded the letter. “You wish to speak with me?”

“Tommy sent me to tell you the delivery has been made.” Every word carried a grudge. “And that the printmaker has a commission for Miss Noelle.”

“Excellent.” Richard stuffed the letter into his coat pocket. “Where is Tommy now?”

“Might be on his way home. I dunno.” And didn’t care, judging by his shrug. Fortunately, Tommy seemed to have his and Will’s part of the operation well in hand.

“My good man, your attempts at discourtesy are woefully crude,” Richard said. “You might want to get rid of that sour face. It’s enough to curdle the cream.”

He made his way to the office of his attorney, where he spent a half hour discussing marriage settlements. He gave the sealed letter to a clerk who could be counted on to arrange, with maximum discretion, for its express delivery to Sir Frederick in Portsmouth.

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