by Brenda Hiatt
To be sure, a number of the men in service at Tumbridge Downs had made advances when first she took up her post, but she made it pointedly clear that none would be accepted. From then on they kept their distance. Otherwise, almost the whole of her experience was confined to males under the age of eleven or twelve. Those she could handle… more or less.
Kit put her forcibly in mind of the spoiled, self-indulgent boys she had been governess to these past several years. He had not grown up, and his kind never did. She had observed his like when Lady Turnbridge invited her lovers, which she changed nearly as often as she changed her bonnets, to her frequent house parties. The gentlemen were all cut from the same mold—young, handsome, charming, and unrepentantly immoral.
Exactly like Kit. Well, perhaps without his intelligence and humor, but equally feckless. Kit flirted with her, and there was no mistaking that he did, but he flirted by nature with whatever female was to hand. It meant nothing. When he was gone, she would be no more in his memory than the taste of last night’s dinner.
But then, men of that ilk would meet with no success were foolish females not so vulnerable to their smiles and cozening words. She ought to put him from her mind. She must put him from her mind.
But there he was, handsome as sin, when she entered the cottage. He was seated across the table from Diana, who was holding up a cracked mirror while he scraped a razor down his lathered cheek.
“How very cozy,” Lucy said, dropping her satchel at her feet. “Have you by chance taken leave of your senses, Diana?”
“She has decided to be sensible,” Kit advised, “and you are dripping water like a gutter spout. Go change into Luke, will you? No, make it the fearsome Lancashire Witch. I’ve a fancy to have a closer look at her.”
Insufferable! “Come, Diana. I wish to speak with you privately.”
Diana followed her into the back room and closed the door. “Robbie told you what happened, of course. Please don’t be angry with me, Lucy. I couldn’t help that he found me, and I couldn’t help speaking with him, either. Nor am I sorry for it. We need his help.”
“What we need is to get away from here,” Lucy said in a rough whisper. “Speak softly, please. He’s probably listening at the door.”
“Why would he? I’ve told him everything. And he expects you to make a fuss about it, too. Indeed, I believe he is rather looking forward to it.”
“I daresay.” Lucy handed her the veiled hat and started pulling pins from the heavy wet wig. All the trouble she had taken to keep him from finding out, and he had got the better of her. She felt like a fool. “He appears in remarkably good health of a sudden.”
Diana passed her a towel. “Kit says he is never ill, and that the best cure for a fleabite is to ignore it. This afternoon he—”
“What did he tell you about himself?” she interrupted, wanting as much information as possible before confronting him again.
“Little of significance. His name is Christopher Etheridge and he has two older brothers. Mostly he was asking me questions. When I spoke of my p-parents’ death, he said that his own were killed in a snowstorm when he was a child. Otherwise, I learned almost nothing about him that I credit. He has been entertaining me with outrageous stories this last hour, but they are surely invented.”
“And what did you tell him of me?” Lucy stripped off the dress and stuffed her legs into Luke’s trousers.
“Only those bits that directly related to my own situation. He knows that you were teaching at Miss Wetherwood’s academy when we met, and that you left to take another position. I told of writing to ask your advice, and how you have been helping me since. Of course I had to explain Luke and Mrs. Preston and the witch.”
There was little else to tell, really, Lucy thought as she pulled on her shirt. The story of her inconspicuous life could be summed up in a few terse sentences. And the one time she had been summoned to do something extraordinary, she failed to measure up. She had taken responsibility to keep Diana safe for two years, but there was no assurance she could do so for even one more day.
Diana must know it, too. She had already transferred her loyalty to a reprobate smuggler. Lucy decided not to tell her what she and Robbie planned to do. When Kit was safely under guard, she would somehow convince Diana to come away.
She wriggled her feet into Luke’s boots and combed her fingers through her damp hair, aware of Diana watching her with a look of apprehension on her face. Lucy cast her a reassuring smile. “We’ll come about, I promise you. And do not be overset when Kit and I wind up at daggers drawn. From the first we have disliked each other.”
Diana smiled, the first genuine smile Lucy had seen since school days. “Oh, he likes you well enough. And no, he has not said so. But I can tell.”
“Goose-wit.” Lucy smiled back. “You know even less of men than I do.”
“Perhaps that was true a year ago,” Diana said softly. “I’ve since become acquainted with my excessively stupid uncle and the reptile he is determined to foist upon me. I know a good deal about bad men, Lucy. Kit is not one of them.”
“I’m keeping an open mind,” Lucy said, her hand on the door latch. “Shall we see if he can convince me he is on the side of the angels?”
Chapter Eight
Kit was firmly in league with the devil, Lucy saw the very moment she opened the door.
He raised the wine bottle he was holding in a salute. “Come have a drink, Miss Luke. You look as if you need one.”
“Where did you get that?” she demanded.
“There’s a great lot of it out on the sands, you know. This afternoon I liberated as many bottles as I could carry.”
Her heart sank. Anyone could have seen him on the bay at low tide. Had the man no sense whatever?
“Never mind scowling at me,” he said. “I knew you wouldn’t approve, but I’m fond of good wine and dislike seeing it go to waste. Besides, there was no one out there. I checked with my spyglass.”
“As if you could spot a cockler through the fog and drizzle!”
“No more than one could spot me,” he replied gently. “And if any such favored this particular area, I expect they’d long since have made off with the wine and brandy. The wagon has already sunk deep into the sand, I’m sorry to say, and the boxes will have disappeared by the next low tide.” He crossed to her and pressed a cup into her hand. “Relax, Lucy. Or if you insist, Miss Preston, but I’d rather not.”
“Call me what you will,” she said indifferently. He would do so in any case. “Diana has told you the whole, I apprehend.”
“Enough to explain how you came to be here, and why. In return, I gave her my promise to help. And yes, my dear, I’m well aware you won’t permit me to do so without mounting an argument beforehand.”
He raised his voice. “Come on out, Diana. I require your protection.”
Diana slipped through the door, clearly apprehensive.
He guided her to a chair. “It will be safer here,” he advised her in a theatrical whisper. “Keep your eyes open, darling, and tell me when to duck.”
Lucy glared at him. “This is not a joking matter, sir. Do you take nothing seriously?”
“In my experience, sticking a ramrod up my back never solved a problem.” He poured a glass of wine for Diana. “Where is Robbie, by the way? Has he gone back to Silverdale, or is he lurking outside, waiting for the order to clamp me in irons while you scarper?”
So much for keeping one step ahead of him. “I cannot permit you to leave here until we are gone, sir. And you understand very well why that is.”
“I understand you think it necessary,” he said evenly. “And I mean to change your mind. Shall we invite Robbie to join us? We’re going to need his help, once we’ve settled on a plan of action.”
She put down her cup. “I’ll hear you out, as if I’d any choice in the matter. But I shall not be easily convinced of your good intentions.”
“Somehow I had guessed that.” He fixed her with a level gaze. “
Remember, Lucy, that it is Diana’s future at stake. At the end of the day, she must make the decisions.”
“To be sure.” And now he was lecturing her, for heaven’s sake! She stomped to the door and called to Robbie.
He emerged from the heavy drizzle, removing his hat and shaking water from the brim before entering the cottage.
“Oh, do come over to the fire,” she said, instantly repentant. “I should not have left you outside in this beastly weather.”
“Pay me no mind, lass.” He pulled off his gloves. “I’m half m’ life in the rain.”
Kit handed him the bottle of wine. “This will warm you up, old sod. Finish it off while I broach another.”
“Oh, lovely. Precisely what we need here.” Lucy watched Robbie drop cross-legged near the fireplace and take a hearty swig from the bottle. “The pair of you foxed.”
“Rest easy, Lady Temperance,” Kit said. “It would take good Scotch whisky and a lot of it, too, for yon braw laddie to be feeling no pain. And as I’ve a long ride ahead of me tonight, three or four cupfuls will be my limit.” He selected another bottle of wine. “See? You’ve nothing to worry about.”
“Not a thing,” she said, throwing up her hands. “And exactly where were you planning to ride, sir?”
“Home.” He drew out the cork with the casual ease of experience. “Do you ever mean to close that door, Lucy?”
She did so with a decided slam, feeling outnumbered and overwhelmed. But not overmatched, she told herself bracingly. Should she rule that Kit was not to be trusted, Diana and Robbie would surely back her up. She had already proven herself, after all, while Kit had nothing to recommend him but a honeyed tongue and an undeniable degree of charm.
“Diana told me you intended to speak with a solicitor today,” he said. “Had he anything of use to offer?”
“To the contrary.” Lucy released a heavy sigh. “I should not have approached him, knowing nothing of his competence or his character. It was a mistake.”
“Seeking counsel from a stranger is generally unwise,” he agreed, “but you are correct that Diana’s best hope of safety lies with the courts and a legal change of guardianship. Two years is a devilish long time to hide out.”
“Eighteen months,” Diana amended softly, brushing her scarred cheek with her forefinger. “And I don’t mind hiding, you know. I’ve no wish to go out in public.”
“Nor will anyone compel you to do so until you are ready,” he assured her. “Still, there is no reason to live in fear of discovery for so long a time. We require a lawyer, the best in the country, and I happen to know how to find him.”
Lucy placed little faith in any lawyer Kit was likely to produce. This was not a matter of petty thievery or evading tariffs on imported wine, after all. With effort, she refrained from pointing that out.
He was looking at Diana with a serious expression. “I owe you an apology, my dear. When I introduced myself this morning, I failed to give you the whole of my name. Forgive me, but it didn’t seem relevant at the time. I had not heard your story, and because I generally take care not to entangle the family in my more unsavory pastimes, I told a half lie. The Christopher Etheridge part is true, but my surname is Valliant. Which probably means nothing to you,” he added with a smile, “since you grew up in Lancashire and our estate is in Westmoreland.”
“Pardon me,” Lucy cut in, “but what has your name to do with anything? May we return to the point?”
“Patience, moonbeam. I’m getting there. You think me singularly useless, I know, but perhaps you will put a bit of credit in my brother, the Earl of Kendal. He served with the Foreign Office during the war and is acquainted with nearly everyone of importance. I mean to place Diana under his protection, and you may be sure that she could not be in safer hands.”
“If you imagine I’ll let you take her away and pass her over to a brother who may or may not exist, you are very much mistaken.” She advanced on him in a fury. “This is purely nonsense. Another of your lies. You mean to return her to her guardian and pocket the reward.”
“Had I such a plan in mind,” he said calmly, “we would have been long gone before you returned from Lancaster.”
“I know something of the Earl of Kendal,” Robbie said. “My wife, God rest her, was cousin to Angus Macafee.”
“The gatekeeper at Candale,” Kit explained. “That’s the family estate, and Angus has worked there since I was in short pants.”
Struggling to compose herself, Lucy picked up her neglected cup and took a long drink. The wine felt smooth on her tongue and warm sliding down her throat.
So Kit the smuggler had turned out to be the son of an earl. Well, she could hardly be surprised. He possessed enough self-confidence for ten aristocrats, and he was certainly accustomed to taking charge and issuing orders. But his rank won him nothing from her. She’d no great liking for the spoiled sons of a privileged class, especially those who thought it a lark to box the Watch or smuggle wine when they could well afford to buy it from a reputable merchant. And his sort too often assumed that any female luckless enough to cross their path, a governess, for example, was a prime target for seduction. She had stuck a long hat pin into more than one aristocratic hand that wandered where it was not welcome.
“What does it matter that your brother is an earl?” she asked stubbornly, digging her heels into what she knew was shaky ground. “Why would he help Diana? She is nothing to him. And would he not be breaking the law to conceal her from her legal guardian?”
“Bending it, perhaps. He won’t mind. And the moment he is acquainted with Diana’s circumstances, he will insist on taking her under his wing. I know him, Lucy. And when you meet him, you will trust him as I do.”
“But I haven’t met him. I’ve only met you. Need I go into detail about my misgivings?”
“I believe you have made yourself clear on more than one occasion,” he said, grinning. “But Diana wishes me to proceed—don’t you, butterfly?—so we may as well come to the sticking point. Unless you wish to prolong this row?”
She did, if only for pride’s sake, but that was not reason enough. She’d been long in service. She knew her own unimportance. And she recognized defeat. “What will you do then?”
Kit regarded her with a look of surprise. “Well, to begin with, I mean to set out for Candale tonight and put my brother to work. He’ll know better than I what must happen next, and because he is lamentably methodical, we must assume that nothing will happen quickly. Meantime, Diana requires some other refuge. I take it you no longer consider this cottage secure?”
“Not since you arrived,” she fired back. “And if smugglers have begun operating in this vicinity, I fear one of them will learn of the cave and make use of it. We never meant to stay here for very long in any case. It is too close to Diana’s home.”
“She should be removed to another county, I expect, where the Lancashire magistrate has no authority. Candale, most like, but perhaps somewhere else in Westmoreland. We’ll see what my brother has to say. In the interim, Lucy, while I am gone, can I trust you not to run off?”
Trust? The word never failed to set demons dancing in her head. She trusted no one, not even herself. But that was not the question, she realized when the demons had retired to the shadows again. Kit wanted to know if she kept her promises, not that she’d given him any, and she didn’t know how to answer.
She would deceive him if she thought it necessary. She lied when lies were called for. Truth and trust were ideals, after all. Chimeras. Whom did she know who had kept faith with her? Diana didn’t count. Diana had given her faith because she had nowhere else to turn. And by doing so, she had led Lucy to assume false identities and tell one lie after another until she could scarcely keep track of them all.
“How long is an interim?” she finally asked.
“Another day,” Kit replied. “Two at the most, depending on what my brother advises. And since Diana will most likely be transferred elsewhere, I suggest that Robbie s
tart taking away as many of her possessions as she can do without until she is settled again. There is a considerable amount of luggage in the cave, I couldn’t help but notice.”
Robbie shuffled to his feet. “If you mean to be going, I’ll see to saddling the horse. And I’ll carry the cases up here so the lassie can sort through them by the fire.”
“Diana?” Lucy crossed to her. “Think carefully. Is this what you wish?”
Head bowed, Diana studied her folded hands. “Not if you mislike it,” she said in a meek voice.
Lucy shot a look at Kit. “You see how it is?” she wanted to exclaim. Diana could make no decision on her own. Or she would not. Since writing the letter and pleading for assistance, her one positive action, she had left everything in Lucy’s hands.
Kit lowered one hip on the table. “It occurs to me,” he said mildly, “that she is struggling between her gratitude to you and what she now considers the right course of action. And you are asking her to choose sides, you know.”
Lucy felt heat rise up her neck. “Is that true, Diana? Do you feel obligated to agree with me against your own true opinion?”
She gave a barely perceptible nod.
Oh, damn. There was only one thing to say then, and it was the last thing Lucy wished to say while Kit was present to hear it. But he would not be dislodged, so she swallowed the frayed remnants of her pride and produced a reassuring smile. “You have mistaken me, Diana. I am quite in agreement with Mr. Valliant’s plan, which far surpasses any I could devise under the circumstances. We are fortunate indeed that he has elected to take up our cause. So what do you say? Shall we seize this opportunity while it is ours?”
“Oh, yes,” Diana replied immediately. “I’m so glad you think it best.”
To Lucy’s surprise, Kit refrained from gloating. He contented himself with a nod of approval, she imagined in her direction before turning to Diana. “Select only the few items you can carry with you, butterfly. Robbie will bring the rest soon enough. With luck I shall return by noon tomorrow and escort you to your next temporary home. Have you any questions before I set out?”