The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2)

by Alicia Quigley

  “Lord and Lady Hadaway, the Hewitts, the Rushtons and their daughter,” said Malcolm. “Oh, and Mrs. Lacey is here.”

  Rowena made a moue of distaste. “Really, Malcolm, did you have to invite her? I was hoping you had moved on from that little infatuation.”

  “Infatuation?” Malcolm gave a hoot of laughter. “I know better than to become infatuated at my age. I didn’t invite her; she came.”

  “Well, I must say that was very rude of her. You should have sent her packing.”

  “Why? It’s not as though she’s bad ton, and it would look odd if she left. We’ll make the best of it,” responded Malcolm.

  “I’m sure you will,” said Rowena sharply.

  Just as it looked as though trouble was brewing between the siblings, the door opened and Mrs. Macomber entered the room, her face wreathed in smiles. “Catherwood said you were here, Miss Rowena—I mean, Lady Brayleigh. May I take you to your room?”

  Rowena leapt to her feet and rushed to greet the housekeeper. “You are perfectly free to call me Miss Rowena,” she said warmly. “Lady Brayleigh sounds like a dowager! I could doubtless find my room myself, but I would love to have you come with me so I can catch up on all the doings here at Wroxton. How does your grandson?”

  “Very well, my lady, and thank you for asking,” replied Mrs. Macomber. “His lordship has hired him as a stable boy, for which I’m ever so grateful.”

  “I’m sure he will soon be a groom,” Rowena enthused. “Will you come with me, Alaric? I need a rest before dinner.” She threw her husband a teasing glance.

  Brayleigh turned with alacrity to accompany her, but Malcolm raised one hand. “A moment, if you please, Brayleigh,” he said.

  Brayleigh looked surprised, but assented. “I’ll be along soon, my dear,” he said to Rowena. “You have a long chat with Mrs. Macomber.”

  “Don’t keep him too long, Malcolm, I have need of him.” Rowena left the room with the housekeeper, already deep in conversation.

  Brayleigh turned to his brother-in-law. “What is it, Wroxton? If this is about the horses, Rowena—“

  “The devil fly away with the horses,” interrupted Malcolm. “I only said that because Rowena wouldn’t know what to do with herself if we didn’t quarrel. Though I’m sure my horses could beat yours; you should see the sweet-goers I have in my stables.”

  If a gentleman of such excellent ton as Lord Brayleigh could be said to roll his eyes, he did so. “You wished to say something to me, Wroxton?”

  “Sit down,” urged Malcolm. “Will you have some brandy? I cannot fathom how you can stand maudling your insides with that tea.”

  “I’m sure that, in a few minutes, brandy will be more than welcome,” said Alaric. He abandoned his teacup and accepted the glass Malcolm offered him, sinking down in a chair and regarding his brother-in-law coolly.

  There was a moment of silence as Malcolm fiddled with his snifter. Alaric sighed.

  “If you have nothing to say, my wife awaits me,” he said.

  “I have plenty to say, I just am not sure how to say it. It will sound outlandish to you, no doubt.”

  “There is very little you could say that would surprise me, as I find all your statements outlandish. Out with it, Wroxton, I don’t have all day.”

  “Very well. I have spent more time than I let on to Rowena with Miss Keighley. It seems that her suspicions of smuggling activities were true.” Malcolm glanced up to see Alaric watching him intently. “I have promised to help her rid our estates of this scourge.”

  “Have you?” said Alaric. “How very enterprising of you, Wroxton.”

  Malcolm gave a reluctant laugh. “Miss Keighley is a determined woman. We do not wish to merely chase them off our estates, but, if possible, to stop the traffic all together.”

  “How do you mean to do that?” asked Brayleigh, taking a sip of brandy.

  “They are organized enough that it is clear there is a leader of this enterprise. It took some time, but we learned it is Denby.”

  Alaric raised his eyebrows. “Dear me. How awkward.”

  “Yes, it is, damn it,” said Malcolm. “His estate is just down the road, but it is not on the water, so his gang carries the contraband across our land. The men are ruffians, and have burned some tenants’ cottages, not to mention terrifying the women and children. I won’t have it, and neither will Miss Keighley.”

  Brayleigh considered him. “What do you mean to do?”

  “Miss Keighley and I have worked out a clever plot,” said Malcolm. “This ball is part of it, of course.”

  “Ah. I thought it was a bit odd that you suddenly wished to entertain.”

  “It’s not that I mind it, though the planning is a plaguey nuisance. It’s been very helpful that Miss Keighley has been willing to step in and assist in all matters. Three nights from now there is no moon, and Denby will believe us all to be distracted by the ball. I, and several of the other gentlemen, mean to lie in wait, and I have arranged for the excisemen to be there as well. We shall follow the freetraders to their destination, where I hope to capture Denby red-handed.”

  Alaric had put down his brandy and was staring at Malcolm in amazement. “I’ve never heard such a hare-brained scheme.”

  “I know it sounds odd, but it’s not nearly as bad as the plan Miss Keighley had. She meant to tell Denby he could court her, and then try to wheedle information out of him.”

  “Good God.”

  “Exactly. You can see why I needed to dissuade her.”

  “In comparison, your plot is a masterpiece of circumspection,” agreed Brayleigh. “I wish the pair of you luck. As long as Rowena is not harmed, you may play at being excisemen all you choose.”

  “Not that I don’t appreciate that sentiment, but I need your help,” said Malcolm.

  “Of course you do,” sighed Brayleigh. He eyed Malcolm warily. “What nonsense do you require of me?”

  “We must make plans with the local riding officer, a fellow named Smithton,” said Malcolm promptly. “He can’t come here, of course, for my bailiff is in Denby’s pocket and would tell him. I can’t be seen talking to the man at all.”

  “So you wish for me to do it.”

  “I knew you’d be quick on the uptake,” said Malcolm cheerfully. “You and Del can pop into Folkestone tonight. I have an old friend who runs a cozy gambling establishment; she’s agreed to allow a meeting with Smithton there.”

  “Of course, it would be a woman,” said Alaric wearily.

  “I know her from my time on the Continent. She’s a widow; a bit vulgar, but she’s honest, and she won’t betray me.”

  “Perfect. A vulgar widow.”

  “Don’t go mentioning her to Miss Keighley,” said Malcolm hastily. “She doesn’t care for Mrs. Featherhaugh.”

  “I will do my utmost not to share this information with Miss Keighley,” said Alaric grimly. “Have you thought what your sister might think of me visiting this, er, establishment, and meeting a female not countenanced by polite society?”

  “We don’t need to tell Rowena about it!” protested Malcolm.

  “If you can say that, then you don’t know your sister very well. She will certainly find out. Making a clean breast of the matter would be best.”

  “But she would tell Miss Keighley!”

  “It would serve you right if she did. But I believe I can keep her from doing so. You surely realize that she hopes that you have taken a liking to her friend. She would not want give Miss Keighley an opportunity to be disappointed in you.”

  “It’s too late for that,” said Malcolm. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”

  “If I refuse I’m sure to be badgered until I agree; my best hope for some peace is to simply accede to your wishes now.”

  “Excellent! Del will accompany you; he has been to Mrs. Featherhaugh’s before, and it will seem quite ordinary that he should introduce you to the delights of Folkestone.”

  Alaric shuddered. “The delights of Folkestone?
Surely you jest.”

  “Don’t be a snob, Brayleigh. I’ll tell Del the plan is set, and the two of you can leave after dinner.”

  “Very well,” said Alaric reluctantly. He picked up his glass again and held it in one hand, regarding Malcolm over it calmly. “Now, Wroxton, I believe there is something else we need to discuss.”

  “What might that be?” asked Malcolm, tossing back the rest of his brandy and pouring another glassful.

  “If I am to do you this favor, I want the truth about Miss Keighley.”

  Malcolm appeared to be surprised. “The truth about Miss Keighley? She is the daughter of the neighboring estate. Her brother, Sir Arthur, seems to be a decent fellow, though he is young. Miss Keighley is a confirmed spinster, and a bit of a terror. I live in fear of her disapproval.”

  Alaric gave him a doubtful look. “Over the past minutes, you’ve said her name ten times if you’ve said it once. You seem to place a great deal of reliance on her opinion.”

  “Did I mention her so often?” Malcolm laughed uneasily. “That is only because she is very much a part of this plot. The sooner it is completed the sooner I can return to London and put her behind me.”

  “You know, once I might have said something very similar about your sister.”

  Malcolm gaped at him. “Brayleigh, if you mean to imply that I’m in love with the Keighley woman, permit me to disabuse you of the notion.”

  “You leap to conclusions I have barely hinted at. It does seem odd, though, that you are trying so hard to please her.” Alaric smiled a bit smugly.

  “I have explained the freetraders are endangering my tenants as well as the Keighley’s,” Malcolm remonstrated.

  “Don’t get your back up at me,” said Brayleigh mildly. “It is apparent that there is a great deal more going on here than you care to admit. But you needn’t tell me you if you don’t wish to.”

  Malcolm sat for a moment, gazing into his brandy. Finally, he looked up with a disarming smile. “I suppose it will do me good to tell someone besides Del. I mean to marry Miss Keighley.”

  “Congratulations. I hope you are very happy.”

  “Alack, I’m not sure I will be. She will have none of me.”

  “Clearly, she has excellent instincts,” said Alaric with a smile that belied his words. “Perhaps you can tell me what her objection to could be. You are, after all, passably handsome, extremely wealthy, and a peer of the realm.”

  “I don’t know.” Malcolm’s exasperation was obvious. “Sometimes I could swear she is not immune to me, but she insists that she finds me irresponsible, glib, and untrustworthy.”

  “Rowena was much the same way. I forced her hand, you know.”

  Malcolm nodded, looking a bit grim. “I know. Fortunately for you, I was not in England then. But I cannot compromise Miss Keighley. As she has told me more than once, her reputation is already in tatters; if she can refuse one man, she can refuse another. And that brother of hers will support her in all things, drat him.”

  “It is not a bad thing that she has a family who cares for her,” observed Alaric. “But it makes your task harder. I gather you do not believe the stories told about Miss Keighley and Denby?”

  “Not a bit. I’ve not asked her about it, as I know without hearing the tale that she would never willingly have allowed him to touch her.”

  “You seem to have great faith in her.”

  “I do. I also have proof of what were formerly only my suspicions.”

  Alaric gazed at him steadily. “I see. You are playing with fire, Wroxton.”

  “I’m quite willing to be burned; I’ve asked her to marry me several times,” said Malcolm.

  “And if she becomes enceinte?”

  “Fiend seize it, I’ve been doing my best to make that happen,” snapped Malcolm. “Then she will no longer be able to refuse me.”

  Brayleigh took another sip of brandy and sat back in his chair, gazing at his brother-in-law in wonder. “You are in love with her, I see.”

  “Not at all,” he said breezily. “I know you and Rowena fancy yourselves to be in love, but I cannot see love as anything but an invention of the poets. I find Miss Keighley attractive, of course, or I would not think to marry her. But she is also intelligent, a good manager, and an excellent conversationalist. She will be a suitable countess, a charming hostess, and a good mother. All in all, we shall deal very well together.”

  “Once you convince her to marry you,” concluded Alaric.

  Malcolm sat back in his chair. “I can count on you to bring a suitable note of pessimism to any conversation, Brayleigh,” he muttered, draining his glass.

  Alaric did likewise, and stood. “I will leave you to contemplate your feelings for Miss Keighley which, I fully comprehend, are not love. In the meantime, your sister, whom I do love, awaits me.”

  “You’ll not tell her about this?” asked Malcolm nervously.

  “I must tell her something,” Alaric pointed out.

  “Then tell her about the smugglers and going into Folkestone; after all, she will wonder where you are off to. That way she will not pester you about Miss Keighley.”

  Alaric shrugged. “She will find out eventually. You underestimate Rowena.” He turned and left the library, leaving Malcolm to pour himself another glass of brandy.

  Upstairs he found Rowena supervising her maid as she unpacked their trunks. He paused a moment in the door to admire his wife’s elegant figure and the graceful way she moved about. As he stepped further into the room, she turned to him with a quick smile.

  “We are very nearly settled,” she said cheerfully. “And I have had such an interesting talk with Mrs. Macomber!”

  “Have you?”

  “Indeed. I must tell you all about it.” She caught the eye of her maid, who hung one last gown in the wardrobe, and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  “Must you?” Alaric walked over to his wife. “Discussing local gossip seems very tedious when there are other things to do.”

  Rowena gazed up at him as he took her in his arms. “It will take just a moment, and I think you will be delighted to hear it. Mrs. Macomber tells me that Helena and Malcolm spend a great deal of time together!”

  “Why should I be delighted by that?” wondered Brayleigh.

  “Surely you wish Malcolm to be happy!”

  “As long as he doesn’t bother me, Wroxton can be as happy as he chooses,” Alaric declared magnanimously.

  “You are trying to annoy me,” accused Rowena.

  “Why would I wish to do that?” He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

  Rowena wriggled out of his arms and stood glaring at him, her hands on her hips. “You cannot distract me that way.”

  Alaric sighed. “I could, you know, if I tried. But I will listen to you for—“ he pulled out his watch and looked at it, “—five minutes.”

  “Mrs. Macomber says that Helena is here at Wroxton or Malcolm is at Keighley Manor every day, and they spend hours quite alone!” burbled Rowena. “She hinted that they—that, well, that—at any rate, she quite hopes they will marry. Her sister is the cook at Keighley Manor, and it seems the staff there has made the same observations.”

  “When your brother tells me he is engaged to Miss Keighley, I will of course wish him very happy. In the meantime, it is none of my business, and were I you, I would not mention this to him.”

  “You don’t think a gentle hint or two might push him in the right direction?”

  “I do not,” said Alaric firmly.

  Rowena looked disappointed. “But surely if he thought we approve of the match—“

  “He would doubtless reconsider his actions,” interrupted Alaric. “Leave the man be, Rowena. He will marry Miss Keighley or he will not; it is not our place to interfere.”

  Rowena’s brow furrowed, but she finally nodded. “Very well, I will try not to say anything. But it will be very hard, for it is my dearest wish that they wed. What did Malcolm need to talk to y
ou about? I hoped it was Helena.”

  “Not at all, except that she is involved in his ridiculous plotting. It seems the local smugglers are desperate types indeed, and your brother and Miss Keighley mean to stop them. The ball tomorrow night is a distraction, so the freetraders will think they can pass over Wroxton land unobserved. I am to go into Folkestone tonight with Mr. Delaney to meet with a riding officer who will assist in their capture.”

  “How exciting! May I go with you?”

  “I think not,” said Alaric. “It seems your brother has arranged for us to meet this riding officer in what, for Folkestone, counts as a gambling hell. Your presence would not be at all appropriate.”

  “A gambling hell!” Rowena frowned. “I cannot like it. But I do want you to help Malcolm.”

  “Then you do not mind that I go?”

  “Of course I mind, as you will not be here. But if it will help Malcolm, and Helena, of course you must.”

  “It is run by a vulgar widow named Mrs. Featherhaugh,” continued Alaric, making a clean breast of the matter.

  Rowena laughed. “Then I need have no fears at all. You have never been attracted to the vulgar, my love.”

  “That is settled, then.” Alaric glanced at his watch. “It has been five minutes, and I think that, as I shall not be with you after dinner, we should take some time for ourselves now.”

  With that he gathered Rowena in his arms again and all thoughts of smugglers were banished.

  Chapter 36

  An hour later Helena’s chaise pulled up in front of Wroxton Hall and she glanced at the white stone façade nervously. She had received a note, written in Malcolm’s firm hand, informing her that Lady Brayleigh had arrived at Wroxton Hall, and that Miss Keighley, should she so wish, would be a welcome visitor. Helena had read it several times, seeking some indication of Malcolm’s emotions, but the missive was impenetrably polite and gave up no secrets. Perhaps, she thought, Malcolm did not wish to see her at all, and would have gone off to the stables. She was not sure if she found that comforting or not.

  As she entered the house, she was met by a smiling Catherwood.