Page 36 of A Perilous Passion

“We need to work together from now on, Corporal. I’ve been detailed to capture at least one of the smugglers for questioning. But it needs to be done by stealth. I know you must be baying for blood after tonight, but if you scale down your patrols so I can go about my mission unheeded, I’ll mention your name in my next dispatch.”

The corporal considered this. “Are we not to look for the highwayman, either?” The disappointment in his tone was obvious.

“Only for a few days. But the double bounty will still stand after that. I’ll clear everything with your commanding officer at the fort. What’s his name?”

“Colonel Vansittart, sir.” Triggs regarded him for a moment, lifting his lantern higher. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I’ve seen you walking in the village with a young lady.”

Rafe sucked in a breath. He’d been afraid of that. It must have been when he’d accompanied Charlotte home from the beach.

“I’ve been in the company of almost everyone in Fortuneswell,” he replied evenly. “I’m gathering information.”

Triggs continued to stare at him. “I understand, sir. But the young lady might be someone you wouldn’t want to know what you’re up to.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because her father was Abraham Cutler. Cutler ran contraband across Essex, using a network of taverns for dispersal.”

He was getting angry now. “Don’t be ridiculous, man. Her name is Allston.”

“They changed their name,” said Triggs, warming to his subject. “And moved out of Essex before the authorities—or the free trading gang—could catch them.”

He stared at Triggs in disbelief.

Charlotte? A fugitive from justice? Mrs. Allston, a smuggler’s wife?

Impossible.

“What is the source of your information?” he asked coldly.

“My own eyes, sir. I’m Essex born and bred. I clapped eyes on Cutler and his family about two years ago. That was before he fell ill. Word was, there was a pardon in the offing if he turned King’s Evidence, but he was killed before it could happen. He died a wanted felon.”

If this was true, Charlotte couldn’t have known. She must have been away at school, or living in a separate establishment. Cutler’s name was notorious among the magistrates. He’d been slippery as an eel, always avoiding getting caught, never any firm evidence against him.

No, there had to be some mistake. Charlotte and her mother—and her aunt—were gentlewomen. Mrs. Allston was so self-righteous, she would never have had anything to do with a smuggler, not even a wealthy, successful one, he was certain.

Unless… Unless Cutler had been a gentleman when he married her and turned to free trading later in life.

A dark mood descended over Rafe as a thought struck him. This would certainly explain Charlotte’s sympathy toward smugglers.

Had she known about her father’s activities, after all? Mayhap even helped him?

The notion had his head spinning.

Damnation! How much had he told her about his mission? Too much, by far. He’d violated the first rule of espionage—tell no one of your mission. And this was the result.

He was a complete fool.

Bile welled up in his mouth. If all this was true, he’d just landed himself neck-deep in dung.

But before he went off half-cocked and overreacted, he’d better make some enquiries first. Just to be sure of his facts.

“Thank you for the warning, Triggs,” he said, and took his leave.

He must return to Dovehouse with all speed to salvage what he could of his mission, before Miss Allston had a chance to ruin everything.

“I curse the day I met you, Charlotte Allston!” he growled as he marched off at a bruising pace.

A gulf of black despair threatened to consume him. Once again, he risked losing his career and becoming a laughingstock.