Page 65 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Chapter 15

Noelle left the warmth of the Pig in a Poke and glanced up and down the chilly street. She had paid Mr. Towne, who would in turn pay the various smugglers. Richard, unexpectedly, had given the Dalbey brothers a sizeable bonus out of his own pocket, and promised to match it when all the goods were delivered. The brothers had removed most of the brandy from Uncle Matthew’s garden and cached it in an undisclosed location on Richard’s property. Undisclosed to Noelle, that was, which annoyed her, but Richard had promised that the rest would be delivered in Chichester within two days, when he and Noelle would pick up payment again.

Did that mean Richard didn’t suspect how soon she meant to leave? Or simply that he wouldn’t let her go. It was a waste of time trying to guess his intentions, and yet she couldn’t help it. How else was she to make her own plans?

Richard was nowhere to be seen. Millie the barmaid, following her with a taper to light the lantern by the door, said, “I wonder where milord went to?”

Noelle shrugged with an ease she was far from feeling. “The stables, perhaps.” She realized she was still carrying her tankard and drained it, then left it on the bench.

A traveling carriage was drawn up in front of the church, with the steps let down. The lamps of the coach were lit and the coachman dozed on the box.

Why would Lady Darsington stop not a mile from Boltwood Manor?

Noelle supposed it behooved her to respect the social niceties. To ask if everything was in order, and to offer assistance if needed. She made her way down the street. Lady Darsington sat, with only a grim maid for company, in the gloom of the carriage. Dorothea, like Richard, was nowhere to be seen.

Surprisingly, the old besom folded down the window of the coach as Noelle approached. “Good evening, Mademoiselle de Vallon.”

“Good evening, Lady Darsington. Is something amiss? We’re only a mile from Boltwood Manor.”

“Why, no, nothing is wrong.” Lady Darsington looked extraordinarily contented.

“I am happy to hear that,” Noelle said. There was not the slightest chance she would ask the woman if she had seen Richard. “Good evening, then.” She swung on her heel. She would wait inside the alehouse.

“My dearest Dorothea expressed a wish to explore the village church.”

Noelle supposed she had to say something. “It’s considered well worth a look.”

Lady Darsington gave a catlike smile. “Lord Boltwood offered to escort her.”

Noelle maintained her calm. “How kind of him.”

“He and Dorothea are such good friends,” Lady Darsington said. “He escorts us frequently in London.”

“I am glad Miss Darsington finds Lord Boltwood to be such good company,” Noelle said, impressed by her own poise. Once she left Richard behind, she wouldn’t resent his inevitable marriage to Dorothea—or at least, not much. What tenderness she retained for Richard was a remnant of the past and would soon fade. What rankled far more was that horrid Lady Darsington would think she had won.

One of the advantages of being about to leave England was that she could be as rude as she pleased. “It is chilly out here,” she said. “I believe I shall wait for Lord Boltwood inside the alehouse. Would you like to join me? You might enjoy meeting my friend Millie, the barmaid. She is a prostitute, like your daughter’s protégées-to-be.”

Lady Darsington shut the window in Noelle’s face.

Noelle turned toward the alehouse, although every fiber of her being longed to run to the church. How could she bear to give herself to Richard, if even now he was professing to love Dorothea? To do so was contrary to respect for Dorothea and also for herself.

“Noelle, my love!”

The warmth in his voice shook her to the core. He came quickly up the road from the church, cloak billowing behind him.

Her throat thickened. He held out his hands to her, pulled her close, and bent to give her a quick kiss. “I beg your pardon, my sweet. Dot wished to see the church.”

By this time Lady Darsington had reopened the window of the carriage. She ignored Noelle and glared at Richard. “Where is my daughter?”

“In the capable hands of my friend Daniel Davison, the vicar, but she said to tell you she’ll be right out.” Richard chuckled. “Don’t count on it, though, Lady Darsington. The vicar is completely taken with Dot. I’m sure he’ll want to keep her as long as possible.”

He swept Noelle away, but not before she caught, once again, the ice in Lady Darsington’s eyes. “She hates me,” Noelle said.

“Because she wants me to marry Dot,” Richard said.

“She does?” Don’t you?

“Poor Dot’s at her wits end about it. The old besom has twice tried to catch us in a compromising situation. You’re Dot’s only hope.”