Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  Damn. Damn, damn, damn. He’d just complicated our carefully discussed plan with the Cawntons.

  “Where?” demanded Smith.

  “Buggles Bay.” Not far from Peacocks. The coast hereabouts was part of two large sweeps, Poole Harbour and Torbay, riddled with small coves and inlets. Caves abounded, useful places to conceal contraband until they could take it farther inland and distribute it amongst several safe houses, so that if the authorities discovered one cache, the rest of the cargo was still safe. The Excise and Customs men found it impossible to keep track of them all.

  Cutforth leered at me. I stared back, not meeting his eyes but gazing at his forehead in true aristocratic style. The ruffian shrugged. “We’ll get that safe an’ then we can deal with—the other lot.”

  “Don’t they have a name?” Richard asked.

  “If they ’ave, they didn’t tell us about it.” Cutforth glared at Richard, studying his face in the dim light. Richard appeared not to notice his scrutiny. “Ain’t I seen you before?”

  “Exeter Assembly rooms perhaps?” Richard said. “Do you double up as the master of ceremonies in your spare time?”

  Cutforth scowled. “You’re not local, are you?”

  “How perceptive of you. You’re wasted here. Your wit deserves a wider audience.”

  “I knows ’em. The Cawntons.” John Smith and my husband stared at Cutforth. “I can tell you who they are. Not everybody as works for ’em knows ’em, but I know ’em.”

  “Do they keep their faces covered?”

  “Mostly. But I’ve been in meetin’s with ’em, an’ I’ve seen ’em in a good light. I won’t do it in court, though.”

  “You will if I tell you to,” Smith said grimly. Somehow I believed him. John Smith must have a very interesting past, and I resolved to ask him about it one day. Cutforth subsided. “I think we’re done here.”

  Richard nodded in agreement. They stood back to let me leave first through the narrow, barred door.

  The turnkey waited outside. He locked the door behind us.

  The conversation, which had risen from a quiet murmur to what I imagined to be its usual raucous level, subsided as I came into view. I went up the stairway as quickly as I could, glad to see the thin, autumn sunshine again and breathe air that was less rank. “Coffee,” I said when Richard joined me again. We repaired to Mr. Smith’s inn.

  Sitting in the small parlour with a blessedly hot coffee pot before us, we tried to deter Smith from mustering the troops, but he wasn’t to be put off. “I have all the evidence I need,” he told us. “I can’t let this one go by.”

  Richard nodded. “Will you tell the Customs people? And the Excise?”

  Smith chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “I think I must. But not until I’ve made my arrangements. You won’t tell anyone, will you, my lord?”

  “Who would I tell?” Richard said carelessly. “Will you take Cutforth with you?”

  Smith’s eyes gleamed as he turned to speak to Richard, his eagerness palpable. “Yes, we’ll take him. We need him to identify the Cawntons. I’ve paid a pretty penny to that turnkey to keep Cutforth close, but it should be worth it for the prize money.” The smugglers all had prices on their heads. The Cawntons would bring him a fine reward. If he pre-empted the officials, he would be more likely to get his purse because many officials were corrupt and would tell the Cawntons for a price.

  After a short trip to the shops to justify our trip to Exeter to anyone who might be curious, Richard and I were soon on our way home, Carier and Nichols joining us in the carriage. It was a good opportunity to discuss this development.

  “So on the night in question, we can expect quite a crowd,” Richard commented. “The Cawntons, Kneller’s men, Smith and his men, possibly the Excise and Customs men—and us.” He paused. “Enough for a full-scale battle. Do you think we’re really needed?”

  “Leave them to fight it out, you mean?” I asked. “I don’t think we should take a direct hand in all of this.”

  “I agree,” said Carier. “But we ought to muster a small force, say, fifteen good men, just in case we need to intervene.”

  “You’re right.” Richard looked at me cautiously. “And if I ordered you to stay at home?”

  “I should obey, under protest, and make you pay for it later. I won’t act like a foolish girl and try to go despite your wishes, but I’d prefer to come with you. I can be breeched, and I’ll stay and watch.” I wouldn’t plead with him here.

  He understood. “You could,” he agreed, and left it at that, but I knew he’d remonstrate with me later.

  I was right, but I deliberately put myself in the advantage beforehand. When we got home I went at once to my room, and with Nichols’ help, stripped. I ordered a bath, and the maids came up bearing heavy cans of hot water which they tipped into the bath lined with soft towels set before the fire. The stench of the prison lingered on me.

  “That smell stays in the nostrils for days, my lady,” Nichols informed me. She had reason to know. Her past had been quite colourful. “Your clothes will need laundering before they’re rid of it.”

  So when Richard came in I was lying in my bath, head back, eyes closed, while Nichols washed me with a large, soft sponge. He’d changed too. “I couldn’t bear the smell,” I told him.

  He smiled and took a seat opposite me, where he could watch. I gave him a slow, sensuous smile.

  “Neither could I, but I made do with a thorough wash. Two.” He leaned back in the chair and watched me through heavy-lidded eyes. I extended my arm for Nichols to wash. The other maids had gone, leaving a tin jug of steaming hot water, in case I needed a top-up. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of warmth and cleanliness. Nichols let go my arm and I dipped it in the water to get rid of the soap.

  When I heard a rustle I opened my eyes and saw that Nichols had left the room. Richard looked at me in silence. I stretched a little, so he could see better, then laughed. “Do you think I’m a wanton?”

  “Not at all. I love to look at you because I find you beautiful. It gives me pleasure, and you’re merely indulging your husband’s desires.” The last word resonated between us.

  “I’d never have dreamed of being as easy as this in a man’s company. I used to quake in my boots when I thought of the intimacies marriage would demand of me. But that was before I met you. I seemed to turn wanton overnight.”

  “Sensuous, delightful, but not wanton.” His softened gaze passed up and down my body, leaving shivers in its wake. “I came to see you to talk about this Smith affair, but on second thought—it can wait. I have far more important matters to attend to.” He stood, stripped off his light coat, then undid his cuff buttons and rolled up his sleeves. “Allow me, my lady.”

  He knelt and picked up the soap. I laughed at his courtesy and then sighed as his soaped hands glided over my breasts. He took the nipples between his fingers and thumbs and teased them into hardness, massaging my breasts with the palms of his hands, stroking, my murmurs and sighs heating the air. He slid his hands down to my waist, and then he took them away and soaped them again, resuming where he’d left off. He shifted to the side of the bath, and moved one hand lower, to the most intimate part of me, slipping two soaped fingers inside.

  Chuckling when he heard me murmur, “Oh, Richard, my love,” he splashed warm water over my breasts to rinse them and then took the nearest one into his mouth, his tongue exploring, sucking, circling my nipple. I felt his hand below, massaging, rubbing, teasing. He tweaked my clitoris, tugged gently, until the warmth spread through me, the lightning bolt took over and I cried out. He kept his hand between my legs, riding the surges with me, kissing my throat and breasts.

  I rested my head on his shoulder before I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “Take me to bed.”

  “With the greatest pleasure, my lady.” The formality of his reply and his still-clothed state, combined with my wilful nakedness, made me want him even more. I couldn’t wait, I wanted him so badly, an
d the wetness between my thighs wasn’t just water.

  He released me and picked up the soft towel laid ready over the chair before the fire. When I stood, he wrapped it around me, cocooning me like a baby, and then he lifted me and took me to the bed.

  I watched him undress, deliberately taking his time, glancing at me lying on the towel on top of the sheets. Finally, gloriously naked, gloriously erect, he walked to the bed and lay down next to me.

  Running a gentle hand down my body, he followed it with soft kisses, until I made little moaning sounds when he reached my crease. His lips travelled down my body far too slowly, until his head nestled between my legs and he gave me the most intimate kiss of all. I arched my back, reached out to grasp at his head, found a secure hold on his shoulders, the muscles flexing under my hands.

  He kissed, licked, sucked, until my peak came and I cried his name, and then he came back up the bed to me. His cock pressed hard and yearning into my stomach, but I wanted it somewhere else. He took me into his arms and kissed my mouth. I responded with fervour, opening my mouth to take him in, stroking his tongue with mine. I embraced him and ran my hand down his body to his rear, trying to lift him on to me. Into me.

  He broke away and looked at my face, his mouth slightly open as though out of breath. “I want you so much,” I gasped.

  He smiled when he heard that, and kissed me again while he rolled me over on my back and finally entered me.

  I cried out to feel him inside me, as though this were our first time. Every time was the first time, none the same as the last. I ground against him, wanting to feel his full length deep inside me, and his drawn out “Ohhh” when I did so.

  He couldn’t hold back any more than I. I opened my legs, set my knees either side of him as he thrust deep and long, and I let myself go into their cadence, knowing nothing else, feeling nothing else.

  When I put my hands up to him he grasped them and held them above my head with one hand while he bent his head to kiss me, so I could hardly breathe.

  My shoulders went deep into the soft, damp towel beneath me and I whimpered, then cried out wordlessly as his mouth left mine. All tenderness had gone, all consideration. We were lost in passion, two people relentlessly pursuing a mutual goal. My back arched, I pushed as hard as I could and felt the fire surge up within me as I called his name over and over.

  He redoubled his exertions and drove into me with renewed vigour. The only sounds were the slap of flesh as our bodies came into violent contact and our gasped, frantic breathing mixed with cries of ecstasy. I lifted my legs and wound them about his waist in an effort to pull him farther into me, to keep him there forever.

  With a great shout, he thrust into me one last time, and I felt him pulse in his final efforts to pleasure us both. I called to him, “Oh yes, yes, oh, my love, my love!” as his body stiffened above me and his essence spurted inside me. After a moment he relaxed, letting himself slowly sink down to me. I loosened my hold on him and he drew me close as he rolled to one side.

  Tenderness returned to us while we recovered our breath and our senses. He kissed me lovingly, and I returned his kisses with my own. His hands caressed my body gently, and I felt his smooth, hard back under my palms.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked me.

  “No,” I answered him readily. “It was wonderful.”

  “My love.” He gazed into my eyes, cupped my face with one hand before he kissed me. “My only love.”

  I laughed, still tremulous with emotion. “Oh, Richard. I love you so much. It seems to get stronger instead of diminishing.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” We lay together in warm luxuriance before he put a hand under me and pulled away the towel. “You’ll catch cold,” he explained. “Shall we get into bed?”

  He pulled the covers over us and tucked them around me, making me chuckle drowsily. We lay close together, enjoying the closeness, the warmth.

  There was a commotion outside. Richard listened, then turned back to me with a smile. I hadn’t bothered to listen. “The maids want to empty the bathwater.”

  “It’ll be all round the servants’ hall by dinner time,” I responded.

  “Do you know that consideration never occurred to me before I met you? I took my cue from my mother. I was always polite to our servants, but never thought of them as people with lives of their own. Until Carier and I founded Thompson’s, I never even thought of them gossiping, and then I only thought of it as a source of information.”

  “Such arrogance!”

  He gave me a loving smile. “I suppose it was. So they’ll come to their own conclusions and gossip about us over their dinner?”

  “Undoubtedly.” I kissed his nose.

  “I doubt they’ll enjoy it as much as we did.” He gazed down at my face before he drew back a little to study more of me. “I know what it is—it’s as if I married my mistress.” That made me laugh. “This isn’t what married life is supposed to be, especially for our sort. But it’s better.”

  “So how did I succeed?”

  “Damned if I know,” he confessed. “But you’re here now. Part of me. Perhaps it’s your family. Gervase is deeply in love with your brother. I felt it before he told me.”

  “Ian and I said something of the kind, but I don’t want to analyse it. If I examine our love too closely, I’m worried it might go away. And I love you so much, I never want it to stop.”

  He kissed me, long and lovingly, and then lay down and curved his arm behind my head. He caressed me with the other hand, smoothing my body like stroking a cat. I stretched, curled in and yawned.

  “Sleepy?”

  “No. Relaxed and content.” I let out a breath in a long sigh. “Happier than I have any right to be.”

  “That is nonsense. You have every right to happiness, just as everyone else has. And for what you’ve brought to me—” He laughed softly, curved his body around mine and kissed my throat. “It seems a shame to spoil this. Shall we talk another time?”

  I looked up at his face. I could see he was concerned, and I knew it would help him to discuss it. “No. It won’t spoil anything, truly, my love.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  “Of course.”

  I loved his gentle smile as he lay back against the soft pillows, one arm around my shoulders, the other stretched above him, curled behind his head. “A shame Smith found his informant. That complicates matters. Well then. Smith will be there, with as many of the militia as he can muster. And the Cawntons. And—dear God, I don’t know what to call him.”

  “We might as well stick to John Kneller,” I remarked. “John is his given name, and he seems to have assimilated Kneller pretty well.”

  “It makes sense.” His voice was carefully devoid of expression. “Perhaps we should get word to him.”

  “John? Would he listen?”

  “I don’t know. But we will have done something to warn him of the trap. Do you think he hates me?”

  “He doesn’t know you.” I touched his chest with the flat of my hand. “He might hate what he thinks you did to him.”

  Richard sighed. “It should have been easier for them both. I’m very afraid I might have yet another enemy there. I pray not.”

  “Shall we call a muster of Thompson’s?”

  He looked at me and smiled. “And start a battle, the likes of which hasn’t been seen here since Sedgemoor? I don’t know. My first instinct is to call a muster and keep well away from it all unless we have to get involved. We’re not the army.”

  “Some of the footmen we can call on have seen active service.”

  “We’re better in small, highly skilled groups,” he told me. “Managing more than about fifteen takes another kind of skill, and I’m no general. Shall I get word to them?”

  “I think so. And, Richard—I’m coming. I can borrow breeches from Ian and ride astride. I want to see this.”

  “Ha!” He laughed out loud. “And you think I’ll let you?”

  “Yes. You pro
mised, Richard. And I’m a full partner in Thompson’s. Would you prevent Alicia coming?”

  “I’d try,” he said ruefully. “And probably have as much success with her as I’ll have with you. On one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll have someone with you all the time. I’ll assign someone to look after you and nothing else. You must promise to stay with him.”

  I wouldn’t get any more concessions. “I promise.”

  He kissed me, but then sighed. “And when we get John out of this—what next?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I accompanied Richard into Exeter the next day and went shopping while he visited the man in gaol once more. I picked Richard and Carier up outside the gaol on the way home. They both reeked of that gaol smell, that stink of decay, unwashed people and rotting food. I suppressed a smile when I thought that I could turn the tables if he decided to take a bath.

  Richard was in a fine temper. He stared out of the window while we travelled away from town, breathing deeply in a conscious effort to control himself. I knew better than to interrupt. I’d only get courtesy from him, no answers, but he would tell me eventually.

  When he finally turned to face me he was ready to tell me. “The man’s a plant,” he said tersely.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He gave a tight-lipped smile. “Thieves’ cant, my love. He was placed there. He never left the Cawntons. He’s still working for them.”

  “To pass information on?”

  “Precisely.”

  “To us?”

  Richard leaned back against the squabs and shook his head. “No, to Smith, although we were a bonus. I knew the Cawntons wouldn’t play completely fair.”

  “Did you pay him?”

  “No.”

  I looked at Carier who shook his head, and I knew how they obtained the information.

  “True to his master, he wouldn’t say anything at first,” Richard continued. “Then he said that I, as a gentleman, would believe him. For ‘gentleman’ read ‘idiot’. I showed him some little tricks I, as a gentleman, knew, and he became a little more forthcoming.” He leant forward and touched my covered hand with his. “He’ll recover. His insolence and his refusal to reply gave me leave to use more persuasive methods, but I did nothing I might regret. Merely a little brute force, my love, and a few more subtle applications. I only hope he won’t remember them for future use, but I doubt it.” He ducked his head and then glanced at my face again with a sheepish grin. “Believe me, my sweet, it was the only way. When Cawnton sees him, he’ll believe him. I expect to hear from Cawnton later in the day. Since he has used me, I have every intention of using him.”