Page 99 of The Smuggler’s Escape

“Damn the wench,” Richard said, as dread stole over him. “Why can’t she do as she’s told?”

She should have known he would protect her. That Lady Darsington’s talk was spiteful nonsense. That all she had to do was wait, do as she was told, and he would keep her safe from harm.

Dorothea, who had been staring at him with knit brows, found her tongue. “Lady Ariadne? No wonder Father was in such a stew.”

Richard was already on his way out. “Dot, if Holmes is in my rooms, ask him to get the spare key to Noelle’s bedchamber without the housekeeper’s knowledge, so that no one can open her door. We’ll be back directly.” He jerked his head at Harry and led him down the secondary staircase and into the rain.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said. “I’ll mend my ways.” He paused. “At least where you’re concerned. What’s this about Lady Ariadne?”

“She’s been selling information to the French.”

“The devil you say!”

“Sir Frederick wants to catch the smuggler who’s been helping her and hush it up, and meanwhile his bitch of a wife is doing her best to implicate Noelle.” He wrenched open the secret door.

“I’d forgotten this stairway.” Lord Harry flicked the rain out of his face.

Richard groped for the tinder box, lit one of the candle stubs, swung the shelves open, and cupping the flame with his hand, hurried up the winding stairs.

In the bedchamber, the empty bedchamber without his Noelle, belongings lay scattered on the floor. Her evening gown lay discarded on the carpet. Her clothes press was open, its contents spread about. On the table by the window, with a branch of candles and a chair on either side, lay a pack of cards and a paper readied for keeping score. It had started as a piquet game, but then . . .

The fur-lined cloak was gone, which meant, very likely, that Noelle had the old flintlock gun. On the floor lay one solitary card—the queen of hearts.

“Surely she didn’t think she was in danger of arrest.” Didn’t you believe I would keep you safe, love?

Maybe she was guilty as sin, with Lady Ariadne her accomplice. But the groom was involved as well—an unnecessary complication, surely. There was no key in the door, so they went out through the secret stair again. “Come on. I’ll need you to manage things here while I go after her.”

Harry clattered down the staircase behind him.

“It’s a wonder we ever win a war, if we can’t keep anything secret,” Richard said.

“We didn’t win in America,” Harry said. “No use crying over spilt milk, though.”

Richard snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I knew Lady Ariadne was too brainless to use a code. She wrote the message in milk.”

“And they’ll hold it over a candle at the other end. Schoolboy games.”

Richard pushed the outside door shut.

Lord Harry said in a tentative voice, “I gather you think Lady Ariadne convinced Noelle she is in danger of arrest and must flee to France.” Harry might be a debaucher and untrustworthy when it came to women, but he had never been stupid. “And gave her treasonous information to take with her. The thing is, old fellow, I don’t see why Noelle would agree to it. Why not come running to you?”

Richard strode desperately through the rain. “I don’t know.”

“She must know you wouldn’t let her be arrested for something she didn’t do.”

Richard could have hugged his old friend for not assuming Noelle was a French spy. “She doesn’t trust me, and why should she? I left her without a word a couple of years ago.”

“I thought you’d lost interest,” Harry said.

“Never.” Richard’s voice shook. “I wasn’t given a choice.” From the depths of his humiliation and rage, he suddenly knew.

“She’s taking it because she knows if she doesn’t, someone else will. She’s planning to destroy it,” Richard said.

~ ~ ~

“Christ, Dick, that’s madness,” Lord Harry said. “She could be killed!”

They reentered the house by the side door. Richard tossed Harry a towel from the gunroom and took another for himself. “Find an excuse to get Lady Ariadne away from the others. Take her to the library. I’ll be right there.”