Page 61 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Noelle took a deep, shuddering breath.

Hell and the devil confound it. Would he never learn to master his tongue?

No, he wouldn’t. “Stop being such a ninny. I love you, and I will always love you, watering-pot or not.” He wiped her eyes again, and held the handkerchief in front of her nose so she could blow.

She made a gurgling noise that might have been a laugh, grabbed the handkerchief, and blew her nose herself. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“I’m not the least bit kind,” Richard said. “I’m completely selfish and intend to stay that way. Hurry up, now. It’s chilly out here, and you’ll want to meet the printmaker with composure. A brisk walk will help.”

She complied willingly enough, treading firmly along the walkway, but she looked anywhere but at him.

He went on. “We had to leave more of the goods than we wished in your uncle’s garden. My mother’s carriage, although large, is not adequate to conceal a great many tubs of spirits. Will and Tommy will try to move them to a location on my estate. Then we can deliver them at our leisure.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said. “Much safer for all concerned.”

Well. That was a surprise. What had happened to her desperate haste?

It had become even more desperate, he realized. That explained why she’d offered to become his mistress in exchange for jewelry, which was easily sold.

If she really was working for the French . . .

She wasn’t. He knew that. He had to keep her close until he found out who was. He thought he knew, but he had to have proof.

“I shall have my mother ask you to stay with us,” he said. “That will give us plenty of opportunity to indulge our carnal desires.”

Her eyes widened. “With your mother there?”

“I don’t suppose Mama will want to participate. Not her style at all.”

She huffed. “And Lady Darsington—”

“What a horrifying notion that is!”

“Stop it, Richard! Miss Darsington will be in the house, too. And Johnny. And all the servants.”

“There will be servants in every house we occupy.” Richard didn’t bother to hide his exasperation. “What have the Tiftons done to you? You didn’t used to be so squeamish. Old Sir Matthew may douse the lights and gag Lucretia so no one hears her screams, but—”

She turned reproachful eyes on him, and no wonder. He had always been prone to coarseness when annoyed.

“Don’t be horrid, Richard. Lucretia is a perfect lady. She never even whimpers, although it must be torture. Uncle Matthew grunts like a pig and shouts curses, and if that weren’t enough to advertise what they are doing to the entire household, he blames her afterward because he took the name of the Lord in vain!”

Richard gave a hoot of laughter. They were approaching the print shop. “Well?” he asked. “Where’s your genuine objection to staying at Boltwood? Come to that, what’s your real reason for refusing to marry me?”

She jutted her chin at him. “Because I don’t want to. But since I agreed to earn the necklace, I shall come to stay at your estate.”

“For how long? I only paid for one night.” Might as well get it out in the open. “You’re refusing to marry me not because you don’t love me, but because you don’t intend to stay in Sussex.” She paled, and he knew he was right. “You’re planning to leave.”

~ ~ ~

Noelle scrambled for a response. How did he know?

“You’ll have to explain yourself sooner or later, love.”

“My intentions are none of your business,” she hissed.

“On the contrary,” he said, more caustic than ever. “Come, let’s get the print shop over with.”

Noelle hurried ahead of him, thinking furiously. Would he try to prevent her from leaving Sussex? She pushed open the door, tripped on the sill, and landed in the arms of Lieutenant Hale.