Page 84 of The Smuggler’s Escape

“Now, listen here,” the landlord said. “I don’t hold with swell coves brawling in my house. Nothing but trouble, you be.” But he didn’t refuse the two guineas.

“I shall reimburse you for any damage we cause.” Richard dropped another guinea into that waiting hand. “I count on you to interfere before we do too much.”

The landlord shrugged fatalistically and, after showing Richard into the private room, shambled off to the tap.

Lieutenant Hale had been rousted out of his bed before dawn by a crisp military messenger bearing orders to report to Portsmouth immediately. Not altogether surprisingly, he was not in the best of moods. With the curtest of acknowledgements, he seated himself on the bench across from Richard’s chair. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a large deal table, no doubt intended for the display of goods to be fenced. Richard had prudently pushed this table to the corner of the room.

“Forget about the contraband,” Richard said, tipping his chair back. “You’re not working for the Excise Office any more. You’re employed by Sir Frederick Darsington at the Home Office, and temporarily, much as you may dislike it, by me.” He took a swig of ale.

Lieutenant Hale scowled at him and, not for the first time, adjusted the shabby and ill-fitting clothing Sir Frederick had issued by way of disguise. “Not by choice, my lord. You deprived me of my rightful seizure and reward money. I worked hard for that. I did a better job than most, and you used your rank to pull the rug out from under me.”

Richard tipped further back, stretching his legs. “That’s the way of the world, Hale. Even if you’d seized the goods, you know full well the reward would have been meager and slow in coming. I’m far more prompt and generous to those who serve me well.”

Hale huffed. “At least it would have been honestly earned. I don’t take bribes.”

Richard absorbed this delightful insult and said, “Not only that, I’ve requested your transfer to a branch for which you are well-suited.” He feigned disgust. “I believed you were an intelligent fellow. Now I’m wondering if I’ve made a mistake. Perhaps I should apologize to Sir Frederick and ask that he reconsider.”

“Perhaps you should,” Hale muttered. “I don’t want to work for you. If it weren’t for your interference—”

“If it weren’t for me, Noelle de Vallon would be languishing in a prison cell.”

Hale’s ruddy countenance darkened. “What sort of man do you think I am? I wouldn’t lock up a gently-bred girl.” His tone indicated that Richard was the sort who would do something equally dastardly, given the chance.

Excellent. They both needed a bout to clear the air.

The front legs of Richard’s chair hit the wood floor with a thud. Ale slopped from his tankard. He poked a finger into Hale’s fustian-clad chest. “Oho, so you had other plans, did you? You’re the kind of cur who would free her in return for letting you bed her.”

Hale sprang up. “You’re the kind of loose fish who would bed her in front of a pack of gawking men!” He threw the contents of his tankard in Richard’s face.

A foolhardy fellow, but a courageous one.

Nobly, Richard refrained from explaining that the public display was Noelle’s idea. He rose as well, setting his tankard on the chair. Ale dripped off the tip of his nose. “Ah, but it diverted their—and your—attention so very, very well.”

Hale clenched his fists. “She deserves better than a debaucher like you!”

Richard let fly with his most punishing right.

Hale took it on the jaw, flung a furious left, and leapt forward, grappling with Richard. His grip was strong and fierce, far more so than his words. “Lily-livered.” Grunt. “Lazy.” Twist. “Care-for-nobody.” Heave. “Aristocrat.”

Richard made a discovery. As he fought, Hale’s accent had changed. “I may be an aristocrat, but you’re a gentleman.” He should have realized it already, judging by Sir Reginald’s willingness to give the man some leeway.

“Didn’t have a choice about that,” spat Hale.

Fine, nor did Richard choose to be an aristocrat, but it did have some advantages. Why had Hale hidden his origins?

Richard laughed breathlessly. “As it happens, I do care for Noelle, God help me.” They rolled, locked together, across the grubby floor. “It’s a shame, really,” Richard growled into Hale’s ear. “You and Noelle have so much in common.”

“She’s too good for you,” Hale snarled, slamming Richard onto his back.

“Undoubtedly.” Richard jabbed at Hale’s throat. He heaved mightily, shoved Hale off, and rolled quickly to his feet. “But she’s mine, and she always will be.”

Hale scrambled up, by no means ready to end it. He came boring in with another left.

Richard dodged, leapt for the chair, and smashed it against the wall. The tankard flew, spraying ale across the room.

Hale glared but doggedly kept coming. “Too much for you, is it?”

“This has been fun, but we have work to do.” Richard dodged a blow and countered with a half-hearted left. “If you weren’t going to imprison her, and you weren’t going to bed her, what the devil did you plan to do?”