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She startled him with a swift glare, and his words died on his tongue. Something had most definitely occurred to anger her. Her beautiful eyes could spit fire.
They took their seats around the table, and William found himself sitting directly across from Pippa, who was sandwiched between Roger and Ainsworth.
Mrs. Mackenzie sat to William’s right, and she shot him a patient smile. “Tell me, Mr. Blakemore, have you missed Dorset a great deal?”
“I haven’t,” he said and found that his answer was truthful. He hadn’t once wished to be back in his old house—though he had on multiple occasions wished his old bed had been brought with them to Devon. His first order of business when he found a spare moment would be to go into town and order new beds and mattresses. They had certainly been long enough without them. “I’ve enjoyed Collacott quite a lot.”
“The people here truly are humble and kind.”
“I’ve experienced that, and I must agree. I found myself wondering how my father ever convinced my mother to leave it.”
Mrs. Mackenzie took a bite and chewed it slowly. “Sometimes we have little choice in where we settle to raise our children. I did not intend to live here in Camden Court, but I am glad this is the direction my life took me.”
“Where would you have preferred to be?”
“Here, now that I know it. My entire life was spent in Graton though, and I never thought I would be capable of leaving. My friends are all there, and my connections to my mother are there. But I’ve made a home here, and I’m certain now I could never leave Collacott.”
William’s fork stalled just before reaching his mouth. “I suppose we make our home wherever our family is.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Mackenzie agreed. She lifted her goblet and took a sip of wine before cutting into her potatoes.
The conversation taking place on the other side of the table caught William’s ear and he stilled, listening carefully to what Ainsworth was saying. “When I was in the taproom the other night, I heard reports of smuggling activity on these shores. Surely that does not affect you here, Mr. Mackenzie? Your home is so close to the cove.”
Mac’s eyebrows drew together. “Smuggling in our cove? You must be mistaken.”
Mrs. Mackenzie’s utensils stilled above her plate, her arms frozen. A look passed between her and Pippa, and William wanted to know what it meant. Had Pippa told her sister about her adventure in the middle of the night?
“I would not expect a navy man such as yourself to participate in such illegal activity,” Mr. Ainsworth said, affecting nonchalance. “But I did wonder if you’ve seen it occurring. Heard whispers on late nights passing by your windows.”
“I assure you, Mr. Ainsworth, I’ve heard no such whispers. I wouldn’t be partial to smuggled goods passing my windows, either.”
“No, of course not,” Ainsworth said. He swiveled a look in William’s direction, and all William could do was stare back, hard. He wished it had been him and not Pippa who had hit this man over the head, for no other reason than the satisfaction it would give him.
“Enough talk of such things at dinner, please,” Mrs. Mackenzie said with a light smile. The woman was an adept hostess. She steered the conversation onto the neutral topic of the fish trade and inquired about the fare available at the inn. By the time they were through with dinner, William was sore from tensing his muscles and forcing himself to remain calm.
It was evident that Ainsworth was playing a game with them, and William intended to end it. Tonight.
