Page 81 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Chapter 18

Richard Boltwood met with Sir Frederick Darsington in Portsmouth. From her father, Dorothea had inherited her fair hair and pleasant manner, but what remained of his hair had paled to white, and more than the cares of the nation weighed on him today. During a brief meal, they chatted about indifferent matters. The instant the door closed on the servants, he dropped his front and gave Richard the look that made many a subordinate quail.

“You maintain it’s not Sir William who is the traitor, but his wife.”

“Yes, sir,” Richard said, who was incapable of quailing.

“The daughter of an earl. A member of one of our oldest and best families.” Sir Frederick half-filled the bowl of a meerschaum pipe of mature golden hue. “I find that impossible to credit, young man.”

“But more palatable, I assume. Between a flighty earl’s daughter with a penchant for gossip and gambling and a high-ranking government official who is also one of your oldest friends, surely you prefer the former.”

Sir Frederick glared as he lit the tobacco. “I would find it”—puff—“more palatable”—puff, puff—“if neither Sir William nor Lady Ariadne were guilty.” He removed the pipe from his mouth. “Your father was a fool, so I don’t know why I’m so surprised that his son should have reached such a cork-brained conclusion—and all to save some trollop of a Frenchwoman.”

“She’s not a trollop,” Richard said. “She’s the cousin of a marquess.”

Sir Frederick narrowed his eyes. “And a suitable bride for you.”

Richard did his best to hide his surprise. “Eminently so. We intend to marry as soon as possible.”

“I wondered as much when your father accused her. He never said a word about her until you were back in England.”

“My father accused her?”

“Why, yes. Didn’t I mention that earlier?”

Richard eyed his superior. “No, you did not, as you know perfectly well, sir.” He clenched his fists. “The old dastard is trying to control me from the grave.”

Sir Frederick huffed. “I daresay he is, but that’s neither here nor there.”

It is to me. Richard let out a breath and unclenched his fists. This time, his father wouldn’t win.

“He was dying and no longer in his right mind, which is why I didn’t take his accusation too seriously,” Sir Frederick said. “But even if your Noelle isn’t the culprit, there must be dozens more likely suspects than Lady Ariadne. You have wasted important time—time, mind you, when a traitor has been free to act.”

Richard would have none of that. “Since we know the source of the leak, and you have taken care to let fall only insignificant or false information since you discovered it, I don’t see what it signifies. Will you permit me to tell you what I have discovered?”

Sir Frederick snorted. “Oh, very well.”

“One of Lady Ariadne’s grooms is a smuggler. I don’t know by what means he disguises the information, but I believe it is he who passes it to the smuggling vessel. Unlike the locals at Boltwood, who are all loyal Englishmen, Jackson has ties to the larger gangs down the coast, many of whose members have no scruples whatsoever.”

Sir Frederick glowered at his pipe. “That doesn’t prove she is the traitor rather than Sir William. Where would Lady Ariadne get confidential information—true or false—except from her husband?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt she got it from Sir William,” Richard said. “But that doesn’t make him a traitor, merely a blabber.”

Sir Frederick’s head came up. His brows snapped together. “Sirrah, that is uncalled for!”

“I know, I know, I have no respect for my elders, but I thought you would be pleased to know your old crony isn’t guilty of treason. Perhaps I should instead term him indiscreet.”

“I should hope so.” Sir Frederick slipped into his habitual droop and recommenced lighting the pipe, slowly and with concentration. Once the tobacco was well and truly lit, he took out the pipe and eyed Richard. “You must have missed something. Another servant could be acting in collusion with the groom. The valet, perhaps, or a butler. Someone in a position to eavesdrop inside the house.”

They’d already been through this. All Sir William’s upper servants, in both London and Sussex, had been with his family for years.

“The governess, perhaps,” Sir Frederick said.

This was getting too close for Richard’s liking. “An eminently respectable woman, Sir Frederick.” Unlike, unfortunately, his Noelle.

“One of the smugglers, then. They wouldn’t be above housebreaking, going through papers, and such.”

“Most of them are illiterate, sir. Not only that, but much of the information you let fall lately was not written down. Lady Ariadne, as we all know, is an accomplished listener. Admittedly, she tends to embroider gossip before passing it along, but no doubt she is able to keep to the facts if the compensation is sufficient.”