The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2)

by Alicia Quigley

  Helena stalked out of the stall, Malcolm following in her wake. The stable was silent, outside of the occasional sound of the horses stirring in their stalls. It seemed Malcolm was right, and the grooms had made themselves scarce when their master had begun to argue with the baronet’s sister.

  “Now, Miss Keighley, what do you wish to do?” asked Malcolm when they reached the stable yard. “Macklin is up at the house, and I am sure Del is still abed.”

  Helena glanced up at him uncertainly. “Do you still mean to help me?”

  Malcolm grinned. “I will assist you with anything you wish, Miss Keighley,” he said promptly.

  Helena swallowed, not sure how to interpret his promise. “You said yesterday that you think Bulkeley is helping the smugglers.”

  “Ah, the smugglers. Should I be insulted that I have failed to chase them from your thoughts?”

  “They are my primary concern,” said Helena stubbornly, refusing to be drawn.

  “I see they are.” Malcolm sighed. “Yes, I believe Bulkeley to be an accessory, though I doubt he is in charge.”

  Helena hesitated for a moment, and then continued. “Do you think Lord Denby might be the mastermind?”

  Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “I have no love for the man, and I know you despise him, but I have no evidence that he is aught but a gambler and a rake. Do you think he is desperate enough to run such a scheme?”

  Helena glanced down. “He came to Keighley Manor yesterday.”

  “Did he?” Malcolm looked grim. “Does he make a practice of that?”

  “No, not at all,” said Helena. “He is not tolerated on our land. He said he came to warn me against you.”

  Malcolm’s lips twitched. “Did he? What words of wisdom did he share?”

  “He told me you are dangerous and not to be trusted.” Helena thought for a moment. “Oh, and you do not have my best interests at heart.”

  “I sound quite fascinating,” said Malcolm judiciously.

  That coaxed a small laugh out of Helena. “I thought so too,” she admitted.

  “Did you tell him that?”

  She nodded, mischief dancing in her eyes.

  “I thought so.” Malcolm smiled down at her. “What else did Denby tell you?”

  Helena looked away, more ensnared than she wished by his charm. “He warned me not to seek to enthrall you—” she began.

  “It is too late for that,” interrupted Malcolm promptly.

  “—and hinted broadly that you might be in league with the free traders,” she continued with a reproving glance.

  “Did he?” Malcolm looked thoughtful. “First Bulkeley denies they exist, and then your erstwhile suitor hints that I am the villain of the piece. How interesting.”

  Helena nodded. “I was too annoyed at first to think it through, but he seemed oddly determined to convince me of your malign influence and lack of trustworthiness.”

  “Not so many moments ago, it seemed you agreed with him, and it does seem very much as though I am not to be trusted where you are concerned.”

  “That is not the point,” said Helena crossly. “Denby clearly wanted to make sure I had nothing to do with you, but why?”

  “If he still hopes to marry you, he may fear now that I am a competitor,” Malcolm pointed out. “He has doubtless believed for years he is the only man you might marry.”

  “I have never given him a particle of hope. But he did warn me that I should not seek to become Lady Wroxton and he assured me you would never look twice at me.”

  “Now you have been offered the opportunity, and turned it down,” observed Malcolm, “and I have certainly looked at you more than twice.” He gazed at her thoughtfully. “But tell me, why does Denby wish to marry you?”

  “I beg your pardon?” asked Helena haughtily.

  “You are beautiful, of course,” mused Malcolm. “Also rich--I suppose that must count for something with a man like Denby, though it seems that he has no lack of money now. I remember the day when he was almost ruined, but he seems to have pulled himself out of the River Tick. However, the land is your brother’s, is it not?”

  Helena nodded. “But if he is working with the free traders, then the Keighley lands would be valuable to him. We too have beaches and caves, which we are careful to keep a watch on. If Denby were to be Arthur’s brother-in-law and friend, he might be able to influence those decisions.”

  Malcolm pondered her words. “Tell me how your estates are settled. Were Arthur to die, would they go to you or are they entailed on a male heir?”

  Helena turned pale. “I would inherit them,” she said slowly.

  “So your husband would then be in charge of them. When Denby first courted you, your father was old and ill, and Arthur a mere boy. Now that he thinks another man finds you interesting, he has come sniffing around again.”

  “He could not be so vile as to contemplate Arthur’s death,” said Helena heatedly.

  “I think there is little he would not stoop to,” answered Malcolm frankly. “Miss Keighly, I think perhaps you are right. Denby may well be our culprit.”

  Helena frowned. “But how can we catch him? We have no proof at all. Indeed, we may be wrong altogether.”

  “I doubt we are wrong,” said Malcolm grimly. “I think the situation here has been very good to Denby. I was absent and unlikely to return; my father was elderly and scholarly. Your father was in ill health for many years, and your brother a mere boy. The field was left wide open for any sort of mischief he sought to create. He could work with the free traders, offering them passage and safety, making a pretty fortune at very little risk of being caught. You refused to marry him, but he made sure no other man would have you. Now that I have returned, and worse, shown interest in you, his schemes are clearly threatened.”

  Helena shivered, and Malcolm wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close against him.

  “I’m not cold,” she protested, trying to pull away, but he did not release her.

  “Hush,” he murmured. “Is it so unpleasant?”

  “It is not that,” said Helena in a small voice. “I cannot allow this to continue, my lord.”

  Malcolm shook his head and smiled down at her. “I don’t think you can stop it, Helena.”

  Helena stood silently for a moment, contemplating his words, and then he let her go, though his hand lingered for a moment on her waist. “Come up to the house,” he said. “Macklin is doubtless up there, and you cannot leave without him. Have some breakfast, and we will discuss this further.”

  Helena opened her mouth to answer, and he smiled. “Be warned, I will not take no for an answer. You cannot stand about in the stable yard awaiting your groom, and I am very hungry after this morning’s activity. Surely you are also.”

  “Very well,” said Helena. It would not do to argue with him, and, she told herself, they needed to decide how to handle Denby.

  “What, are you so obedient now?” asked Malcolm teasingly.

  “Do not test me, my lord.”

  Malcolm tucked her hand through his arm. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m only grateful that you have agreed to accompany me.”

  They turned toward the house, treading a path through elegant beds of flowers and well-trimmed hedges. The Wroxton gardens were far grander than those at Keighley Manor, having been laid out in the previous century on a large scale. Helena noticed the dew glistening on the grass of the lawn and the flower petals, and realized that it was still very early. Little more than an hour had passed since she had ridden into Wroxton’s stable yard in a fury, but she realized a great deal had changed. But Malcolm said nothing about it, only pointing out a lovely vista here and a classical sculpture there. She wondered at his calmness; she felt her whole world had turned upside down.

  Chapter 20

  When Helena and Malcolm reached the house he escorted her up the steps, waving the butler away as they entered the hall. “Miss Keighley had some business with me, and I have asked her to stay for breakfast,” he sai
d. “See that covers are laid.”

  The servant departed with a bow, and Malcolm led Helena across the hall to his library. “It won’t be a minute,” he said cheerfully. “The staff here is impeccable, no thanks to my management.”

  Helena looked around, taking in the fine mahogany desk and the walls lined with books, their leather spines glinting with golden lettering. Tall windows allowed the morning light to spill across the room, glancing off the papers littering the desk and the blue velvet that covered the settee. Malcolm led her to it and waited as she seated herself gingerly, and then moved behind the desk, dropping into the chair with an easy grace. The sunlight played across his blonde hair, and outlined his broad shoulders against the window, and Helena glanced away.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No, nothing,” she replied. “I should not have come here.”

  “Nonsense. We have planning to do.”

  “Planning?”

  “I could say we should plan our nuptials, but I see you will need some coaxing,” he said lightly. “So I must content myself with plotting Denby’s downfall.”

  “We are not certain he is behind the smugglers.”

  “No, but I can damn well find out. The tenants and servants doubtless know what’s going on, and some of them must be as concerned as we are. Others are doubtless profiting from it, blast them.”

  “Once we find out, how do we catch him?” asked Helena. “He surely has others do the work for him, and only collects the money.”

  Malcolm leaned back in his chair, contemplating her words. “It seems I must become friendlier with Lord Denby, and give him the opportunity to tip his hand. We should probably start by letting him think we have lost interest in pursuing the free traders.”

  “How do you mean to become friendlier with him?” asked Helena practically.

  Malcolm shrugged. “He gambles and drinks, as do I. It should not be difficult.”

  “Or it might make him wary,” said Helena. “Why would you suddenly choose to be friends with him after the disdain you have shown until now?”

  “It can’t be helped,” said Malcolm. “I shall have to try.”

  Helena leaned forward. “I have a better idea.”

  Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “Something tells me I am not going to like it.”

  “You may not, but it is the best solution to our problem. I will pretend I have reconsidered, and may be interested in marrying him after all.”

  Malcolm gave a hoot of laughter. “And you said that my befriending him would be unbelievable! What possible circumstance would make you turn to Denby?”

  “He warned me against you yesterday. I will tell him he was right, and that you—that you made advances toward me.”

  “Indeed I did,” said Malcolm blithely.

  “I will also say I repulsed you.” She glared at him as he opened his mouth to reply, and he subsided with a grin. “I will tell him you are a wastrel and a fool, and your intentions were not honorable.” She paused. “Did you say something?”

  Malcolm contemplated her across the desk. “Not at all. Please, do not hesitate to further malign me.”

  “I see no reason why he should doubt what I say,” continued Helena. “After all, the stories we have all heard about you would make my tale very believable.”

  “Someday you will have to tell me all these stories,” said Malcolm. “I hope they don’t say I make a habit of forcing myself on unwilling women.”

  “No, the women—dozens, if not hundreds of them--were all very willing, I believe,” said Helena. “But I shall tell Denby your actions have proved to me that no gently bred man will show me respect after he compromised me, and that if I ever wish to hold my head high again, I must consider accepting his offer for my hand.”

  “Why would Denby think you suddenly care now? You are very content at Keighley Manor, and your brother has great affection for you. And not an hour ago you rejected a marriage proposal from an earl.”

  “He does not know that. You seem to think that Lord Denby has a great deal more intelligence than he actually possesses,” Helena pointed out. “He is vain and greedy; he will merely assume I am a weak and silly woman whom he has finally brought to heel.”

  “I would never believe you,” said Malcolm slowly.

  “You are not such a fool as Denby.”

  A slow smile broke across his face. “That may be the first compliment you have ever paid me. I am making progress. Perhaps in a year you may tell me that I am not unhandsome.”

  “A year from now, my lord, you will be back in London, and all this will be behind us.”

  “On the contrary, a year from now you will be Lady Wroxton, and you will be happily ensconced here in this house, and in my bed,” predicted Malcolm. “Which is why this little plot of yours, as neat as it is, will not do. I will not have you anywhere near that man. He may be dangerous, and he certainly will not treat you with respect.”

  Helena gaped at him. “I have told you, my lord, that I cannot accept your very flattering offer.”

  “Yes, you told me that. I didn’t believe you.”

  “My actions are not yours to order,” snapped Helena. “If we wish to learn more about Denby’s doings, this will be the best way to do so.”

  “What if I were to ask you - very politely - not to do this?”

  “I will do it anyway.”

  “Then I suppose I cannot stop you,” said Malcolm mildly.

  Helena, prepared to do battle, blinked at his sudden acquiescence. “You won’t try?”

  “I doubt my ability to prevent you from doing as you choose, no matter how foolish. At least this way, I will be able to keep a very close eye on you.”

  “You need not worry about me,” said Helena promptly, quashing the thought that having the earl close at hand would not be entirely unwelcome.

  “But I will anyway. You can no more stop me than I can stop you from pursuing this remarkably ill-advised plan,” Malcolm pointed out.

  “It is not ill-advised,” said Helena defensively. “It is very clever.”

  “Too clever by half. Denby has wanted you for years, and if you think he will let you keep him at arm’s length, you are wrong,” said Malcolm flatly. “As I said, I will be watching.”

  Helena glared at him, but did not answer, as a knock was heard at the door and a footman entered to inform them that breakfast was prepared.

  “Perfect,” said Malcolm, rising. “Miss Keighley, if you will allow me to escort you?”

  Helena took his arm gingerly, glancing up at his profile as he led her out of the library and toward the dining room. The presence of servants prevented them from continuing their discussion, and she seized the opportunity to draw together her scattered thoughts. She had clearly underestimated Lord Wroxton, she reflected.

  Malcolm seated Helena at the elegant table in the dining room and then took a chair across from her. He eyed the repast spread out before them.

  “Would you care coffee or chocolate?” he asked politely.

  “Coffee, please.” Helena watched with a growing sense of unreality as coffee was poured and the earl passed her a plate of pound cake. She took a piece, but left it untouched on her plate. She watched with irritation as Malcolm piled his plate high with warm rolls and meat, and proceeded to make a hearty meal of it.

  Eventually he caught her eye and grinned. “You are not eating, Miss Keighley. Is aught amiss?”

  “Not at all,” Helena replied stiffly.

  “Would you prefer a roll, or some toast?” asked Malcolm, indicating the various dishes.

  Helena glanced at the footman and rejected the tart reply that hovered on the tip of her tongue. “No, thank you,” she said.

  Malcolm took pity on her. “John, I believe I would like some—,” he glanced around the table, “—some baked eggs. Please ask Mrs. Chapman to prepare some. You may bring them back with you.”

  The footman bowed and departed. Malcolm turned to Helena.

  �
��Is that better?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” she asked airily.

  “You clearly wish to scold me for something.”

  “Lord Wroxton, you appear to find all this very amusing.”

  “It has turned out to be a very different day than I expected when I awoke,” he allowed.

  “It has hardly gone as I planned, either,” retorted Helena.

  He put down his fork. “I suppose not. But is it so terrible? What happened is hardly surprising, given our history together, and it was—remarkable, for lack of a better word. I should regret it, but I find I do not. All I regret now is that you refuse to marry me immediately by special license.”

  Helena resolutely took a bite of her food. If she ate, she would not have to answer him.

  Malcolm watched her, noting with admiration the firm set of her shoulders and the stubborn angle at which she tilted her chin. “We will discuss it another time.”

  “We will never discuss it again,” said Helena firmly.

  Malcolm put down his fork. “Come away with me,” he proposed. “Let Denby go to the devil in his own way, and I will take you to Paris, and Vienna, and Venice.”

  “I can’t do that!” protested Helena. “I have a duty to our tenants, and to the land.”

  “No, your brother has that—as do I. You, my dear, take too much upon yourself.”

  “While you take on too little.”

  “Oh, I think I have plenty on my hands, not the least of which is you, troublesome child that you are.” He ignored her annoyed gasp. “Very well. We shall take care of your smugglers, and then I will marry you and take you to Vienna. You will love it there.”

  The blistering retort that rose to her lips was not to be heard, for the door to the dining room opened and Stephen appeared in it, sporting an elegantly brocaded dressing gown embroidered with silk.

  “Mal, I have the devil of a head,” he said in a complaining voice. “I wonder that you are up so early.”