“Presumably he would need to produce arsenic on a large scale to make it worth his while.”
“Yes, but all the adjoining coves to yours will be full of similar grit.”
“Yes, I imagine they are. There are old mine workings all along this coast.”
“Well then, they’ll use local fishermen to bring in small boatloads to your cove, where the arsenic will be extracted and turned back into a solid.”
“How would they do that?”
“You’re stretching my limited knowledge of the process by asking that question. I believe they need to heat the grit to sublimate the arsenic and then cool the gas to condense it back into a solid.” Lord Gabriel shrugged. “Straightforward enough if you know what you’re doing, I would imagine.”
“Wouldn’t it be dangerous?”
“If there was no way for the gases to escape, then yes. Still, I don’t suppose men like Peacock and Nesbitt would lose much sleep if a few workers died in an effort to make the pair of them rich.”
“I’m sure they would not.” Miranda wrinkled her nose, walking briskly to offset the cold. “The experimental chimney. Is that what put you on the right lines?”
“Yes. When you mentioned tin mining and then I saw all that apparatus, it seemed obvious.”
Not to me. “Why must the arsenic be in solid form?”
“Presumably because it would be safer to transport it that way. They’d take it out by boat, the same way they’d bring the grit in, and have it loaded onto a larger vessel situated probably about where The Celandine is right now.” Gabe ground his jaw. “Very clever. This estate is isolated but not so isolated that activity in and around it would go unnoticed.”
“Which is why they needed me to return home a married woman?”
“Yes, although I imagine your husband would make you stay in at his father’s home while he remained here to oversee the arsenic business. He wouldn’t want you to know anything about it.”
“Humph! I’d like to see him attempt it. However, since I shall never marry William Peacock, it’s a moot point.”
“Speaking of which, I actually came to find you to tell you I’ve received a letter from Darius. We can expect the pleasure of your guardians’ company within the next day or two.”
“I look forward to getting that encounter out of the way.”
They reached the house but instead of going in, Gabe headed for the stables.
Miranda followed him. “Are you going to set up an experiment to see if you really can extract arsenic from that dust you collected?”
“Lord no, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing and would probably blow the entire place to kingdom come.” His brown eyes sparkled with amusement. “There’s a far easier way to prove I’m on the right lines. Dalton!”
“M’lord.” Dalton scurried out in response to Gabe’s summons. He really was becoming a proficient scurrier, Miranda thought, suppressing a grin.
“Dalton, those steps down to the cove—”
“Lord have mercy, you haven’t been down there, have you, Miss Miranda?”
“Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I?”
“That handrail’s quite rotted away. I’ve been meaning to renew it. Didn’t seem any point when you weren’t here ‘cos no one else ever goes down there. Mrs. Dalton reminded me just the other day to see to it but it went clean out of my head.”
Gabe turned to Miranda and smiled. “I think we now have all the proof we need.”
“Proof?” Dalton removed his cap and scratched his head. “Proof of what, m’lord?”
“Did Miss Cantrell’s guardians venture down to the cove when they paid you a visit?”
“Can’t rightly say. They wandered all over the place and were gone for hours. It weren’t up to me to follow them about and do their bidding. In fact, they seemed awful secretive, now I come to think about it. They told me to go about my business and leave them to theirs.”
Miranda had heard enough and had no further reason to remain in Gabe’s company. It wouldn’t do to seem like a clinging violet just because they’d shared one silly little kiss. A kiss that meant absolutely nothing at all. “Prey excuse me,” she said. “I have things to do.”
“By all means.”
Gabe doffed his hat and she felt his gaze burning into her back as she left him.
*
Bill muttered every swear word in his vocabulary as he and Luke put their shoulders against the rear of the carriage and pushed as hard as they could to extract it from the deep rut. Peacock grasped one of the horse’s bridles and shouted irascible instructions.
“Push harder, you lazy imbeciles! Put your backs into it, for pity’s sake, or we’ll be here all night.”
The wheels spun, splattering Bill and Luke with wet mud, but the carriage only moved an inch or two before settling back into the rut more deeply than before.
“It would help if them two did something useful.” Bill wiped mud from his face and spat more from between his lips. Nesbitt and William Peacock stood to one side, watching proceedings with apparent disinterest. “I told ’im the weather was too bad to move on today, but would he listen? Would he heck as like.”
“Wouldn’t spring for another night in that last posting inn, that’s his trouble,” Luke said in a belligerent tone.
“Well, I’m done with ’im, the skinflint. All these years of service and he treats me like the muck that’s now all over me.”
“What you gonna do then, Bill?”
Bill grunted as they made another effort to move the carriage. This time the wheels spun onto slightly firmer ground, but Bill and Luke both fell flat on their faces.
“What are you doing, idiots? Get up at once, before the carriage rolls back and crushes you both.”
“Arsenic, that’s why he needs the gal’s estate. The fool thinks he can make arsenic from old mining grit and sell it to all and sundry.”
Luke picked himself up and shook like a dog, ineffectually attempting to dislodge the wet mud. “You heard them talking about it?”
“Yeah, and it’s the daftest scheme I’ve ever heard of.” Bill ignored Peacock’s gesticulations, adjusted his filthy clothing and glanced up at the sky. “I reckon we’re in for another storm so we’ll have to wait it out at the next inn whether he likes it or not. ’’Course, that means Forster won’t be able to get away in his ship, not if he hasn’t already left.”
“So he’ll be there when we arrive. You planning on changing sides?”
“Seems to me, if a man of his standing’s still hanging round the Cantrell girl’s petticoats there has to be a reason why.” He sniffed. “A fool in lust and his money’re soon parted, especially when he’s as rich as Forster’s supposed to be.”
“You have a point there, Billy. You have a point.” Luke’s head shot up. “But a man like Forster would never marry Miranda Cantrell. He’s probably just using her to warm his bed and it won’t bother him if people know it, so why would he need us?”
“Because he won’t wanna see her hitched to drippy William over there, will he now? He’s probably still keen to dip his wick in that sweet young well and you can’t blame him for that. She’s a prime piece, that Miranda. I always said as much.” Bill leaned against the carriage, into which his three hated passengers had quickly installed themselves, snug, warm and dry. “The gentry get jealous every bit as easily as the rest of us.”
“You think Forster might show his gratitude by offering us easy, secure jobs on his estate?”
“Come along, get moving.” Peacock leaned out the window and rapped the side of the carriage with his cane. “We don’t have all day.”
“There’s no knowing what he’ll do, Luke.” The carriage swayed as Bill clambered onto the box seat and took up the ribbons. “But I’ve got a good feeling about this one, and I know what those two swells have planned for Miss Cantrell once Forster returns to London, which he’ll have to do eventually.”
“What’s that then?”
Bill told h
im. “Seems to me they can do what they like, unless we stop ’em. We need to keep our eyes and ears open and our mouths shut and wait for the main chance. I think our luck is about to change, young Luke.”
*
Gabe mucked in with the workers during the day, thoroughly enjoying getting his hands dirty. He had the added satisfaction of seeing the Wildes gradually being restored to its former glory, thanks in part to his efforts. Given the unusual circumstances, he thought it rather silly that in the evenings Mrs. Dalton insisted on him and Miranda dining formally in the still chilly dining room, with Munford waiting table. Left to his own devices, Gabe would have preferred to eat at the kitchen table, warmed by the stove, tempted by the smell of freshly baked bread and Mrs. Dalton’s meat pies. He suspected Miranda was of the same mind but presumably their presence there would shock and offend Mrs. Dalton’s sensibilities, as well as stifling conversation between the staff.
He sighed as he tied his neckcloth. No, the proprieties had to be observed, so he played his part and dressed for dinner every night. Miranda made an effort, too, but so far hadn’t worn either of the two evening gowns he’d enjoyed seeing her in at the Hall. He couldn’t blame her for that. The Wildes’s formal rooms still hadn’t completely thawed out and those dresses could best be described as skimpy.
Unsurprisingly, her welfare had been a pressing priority since he’d rescued her from that barn back at the Hall. Kissing had complicated everything. He still didn’t know what had made him do it but he couldn’t regret his actions. Her response had been natural and instinctive, full of curiosity but lacking in any obvious desire to trap him. Since arriving in Cornwall and seeing the daunting task she’d set for herself, his respect for his feisty, single-minded companion had changed into a far deeper feeling. One he didn’t care to examine too closely since he’d never experienced anything like it before. It filled him with the desire to do something to please her and make her smile.
The loss of the possessions from her house angered and troubled her, as it did Gabe. He hated avarice. Peacock had robbed his ward of items that held great sentimental value. The man had been appointed to a position of trust, one which he had abused, and for which Gabe fully intended to exact revenge.
Gabe was unsure if he’d be able to get Miranda’s family heirlooms back for her, but he would certainly try. What he was more confident about achieving was the return of Sultan, her father’s stallion. Miranda was greatly attached to the beast and lamented his loss. Gabe had that afternoon instructed Wright to call on Sultan’s new owner and negotiate the repurchase of the animal. If the man really couldn’t handle him, as Dalton appeared to think was the case, then that at least ought to be achievable. Wright would carry out that assignment the moment the coming storm had passed and he’d ensured the security of The Celandine.
Miranda and Tobias joined him as he was enjoying a glass of whiskey in front of the blazing sitting room fire. As though reading his mind, this evening she was wearing the blue gown that had once belonged to Flick, a shawl draped around her shoulders.
“Good evening,” he said, standing. “Are you sure you’ll be warm enough?”
She grinned. “No, but Jessie bullied me into wearing this gown. She seems to think I’ve been letting the side down. I don’t have the courage to stand up to her when she’s quite made up her mind about something.”
Gabe didn’t believe it for a moment. “Well, selfishly I’m glad.”
Her cheeks warmed and she looked away as she took the chair opposite his. “I’ve been thinking about this arsenic business,” she said, accepting a glass of peach cordial from Munford and expressing her thanks. “Why don’t we simply tell my guardians when they get here that we know what they plan to do and aren’t prepared to permit it?”
“You can’t actually prevent them.”
“Of course I can! I own the Wildes, not them.”
“Not until you reach your majority. Until then they have the power to do whatever they think best for you, including exploiting any financial advantages from this estate.”
“But they aren’t doing it for me. They’ve already robbed me blind.”
“Calm yourself, I won’t allow them to get away with it.” Gabe sent her a reassuring smile. “But you must let me handle them.”
“That’s all very well, but what happens when you leave here?”
What indeed? “I can’t anticipate how I will deal the scoundrels until I hear what they have to say for themselves, so it’s hard for me to warn you what to expect.”
“Yes, but even so…”
Dinner was announced and Gabe offered her his arm. If she noticed that he’d avoided answering her question about his departure she gave no sign, and the meal passed without their again touching on the subject of her detested guardians.
“Has it occurred to you how easily this place could be adapted as a stud?” he asked.
“Oh, you mean because we have the paddock with the high fence? That was Sultan’s territory, when we still owned him. We needed the high fence. He would have jumped anything lower, just to get at the mares in the lower paddock.”
Gabe’s lips twitched. “Precisely. And the lower paddock would be a good place for the youngsters once they’re weaned.”
“Well, I had thought about advertising Sultan’s services, but now I no longer have a stallion to advertise.”
Gabe regretted reminding her and again changed the subject.
The storm broke just as the last plates were removed. Rain lashed against the window panes and thunder rumbled directly overhead. Miranda went to the window and pulled back the drapes.
“I love storms,” she said. “Especially when I’m indoors, warm and dry, as I am now.”
Gabe dismissed Munford and joined her. “I wouldn’t like to be at sea tonight.”
“Will The Celandine be all right?”
“Perfectly. She’s in a sheltered anchorage and is built to withstand much worse than this. It’s people who normally give up at sea, not the vessels carrying them.”
Gabe stood slightly behind her, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip an arm around her silk-clad waist as they watched the storm venting its anger. An explanation for that kiss still needed to be made, and this was the perfect opportunity to offer it. And yet he was unable to find the right words. He felt the heat from her body searing through the silk, curling through his palm and then the rest of him. God’s beard, what was she doing to him?
She was doing absolutely nothing. She remained passive, his arm still on her waist. The blame lay entirely with him. He glanced at her profile and she appeared perfectly serene, but the rapid rise and fall of her breasts told a different story. She wasn’t indifferent towards him. She was nervous, and the light of anticipation glistening in her eye gave her away. Gabe moved completely behind her, wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her back against his body. She fit there perfectly, the top of her head sliding neatly beneath his chin. He was aroused by the feel of her bottom against his groin.
Very aroused.
He wondered if she knew what it was that pressed against her and if she enjoyed the feel of it. It was hardly a question he could ask, and so he had to assume that by not moving away she relished their intimacy as much as he did.
Gabe dropped his head and trailed a delicate line of kisses down the back of her neck, a gentle gesture in direct variance to the ferocity of the storms—one raging outside the windows, the other tearing him apart as he struggled to remain in control of his baser needs.
When Miranda shuddered and let out a small gasp, Gabe threw caution to the wind. Just one proper kiss, that was all he’d ask of her. What harm was there in that? He turned her in his arms and their bodies slammed together, her soft curves a thrilling contrast against the hard planes of his chest.
This time when he claimed her lips, there was more urgency than finesse. He crushed her mouth with raw carnality streaking through his system. Her tongue, velvety and sensuous, t
angled with his as she pressed her body against him, and once again her arms circled his neck. Gabe felt triumphant at her willingness and deepened the kiss. As he did, his hands moved to her derrière and pulled her lower body even closer to his.
This was madness. Gabe knew it but was unable to stop. The physical alchemy between them had been building steadily since their first meeting, much as he’d tried to pretend otherwise, and was now in danger of running out of control. He wouldn’t let that happen—absolutely he wouldn’t—but he’d started this and sensed he wouldn’t be allowed to call a halt until he satisfied just a little more of Miranda’s curiosity.
Still kissing her, desire overwhelmed reason as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to a settee. Seating himself with her in his lap, he broke the kiss and smiled into her bemused eyes.
“A little more?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, dazedly. “Yes, please.”
Her hair had come free of its pins and tumbled across her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes, bright with anticipation, and her golden halo of hair gave her the appearance of a wanton angel. His wanton angel. He no longer saw a young girl in need of his protection but a desirable woman on the brink of discovering the depths of her sexuality. One who trusted him, he reminded himself. The thought sobered him, almost to the point of regretting his actions and calling a halt to them.
Almost.
He wanted to tell her that she could trust him, but he didn’t feel entirely trustworthy at that moment and so remained silent. What he did feel was wicked, reckless, dangerous and ever so slightly insane. His hands drifted across her stomach and upwards, until they reached the undersides of her breasts. Slowly his palms covered the soft mounds of flesh, moulding them until his hands were entirely full and Miranda moaned. Her nipples, he could feel through the thin silk, had pebbled. He pinched one lightly and she responded with a startled cry.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, you made me fizz.”
“Fizz? I beg your pardon. How, precisely, does a lady fizz?”
“It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t understand.”
Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway Page 18