Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  “You must refuse,” Julia said quickly. “He has no business with you, my dear, and you owe him nothing.”

  “But, he was so kind when I told him of my worries about leaving Turbans! How can I snub him?”

  “Very easily. I’ll even write the note for you. I know exactly what to say to him.”

  Polly interrupted in strident tones. “You will do nothing of the sort, Julia Faircloth! His lordship has too much power over our lives to be trifled with; I won’t allow it. We must invite him to luncheon tomorrow and discover what it is that he wants.”

  “Luncheon! Mama, you go too far! It’s power that he wants. He’s already bested Papa and won Turbans, and now we are all pawns in a game of his devising.”

  Sarah sniffed. “Sometimes I think that you are the one playing games.” She looked back down at the creamy parchment and sighed. “I’ll take your advice, Mama. Perhaps his lordship will surprise us and do something shockingly nice!”

  * * *

  It was nearly noon and Julia couldn’t keep her mind on her brother’s European History lesson. At any moment, the clock would chime and she could hurry back to the house to see for herself exactly what Lord Sebastian Trevarre was up to.

  “You’re not listening to a word I’ve said,” complained Freddy.

  Before she could reply, her mother slipped in through the minaret door and stood with both arms outstretched across the portal.

  “I was just about to start back,” said Julia. “As it happens, I am very hungry, and quite relieved that his lordship’s visit means we shall have a hearty lunch.”

  “I’m sorry to say, I don’t believe a word of that. I think you only want to join us for lunch so that you can interfere.” Polly’s plump face was blotchy, betraying her nervousness. “You stay here with your brother and share his lunch. We’ll let you know when his lordship has gone.”

  Julia was on her feet and quickly beside her mother at the door. “Mama,” she coaxed, “you cannot mean it! You don’t know him the way I do. He can’t be trusted!”

  “No. I won’t allow you to disrupt this luncheon. I mean to discover exactly what it is that Lord Sebastian wants.” With that, she turned her back, went out the door, and locked it with a key.

  Julia’s heart was thundering with outrage. She tried the door. Then she lifted her skirts and ran up the narrow, twisting steps to the minaret’s balcony, built into the curve of its crescent-shaped cap.

  “Freddy,” she called down the stairway, “don’t you know a secret escape route?”

  “Why don’t you forget about them, Jule, and let’s have a game of backgammon?” His freckled face appeared near the bottom step. “If you’re forever bursting in on Lord Sebastian, he’ll begin to suspect you’re in love with him.”

  “Frederick Faircloth! That is a vile thing to say.”

  “I know.” His voice drifted off as he went to get out his backgammon board.

  Frustration tied knots inside her. Of course, Freddy was right. The last thing she really wanted was to see Lord Sebastian again. Whenever she remembered the way he had treated her during his last visit to Turbans, her face grew hot and her breasts felt very odd. Her reaction was, she’d decided, the strongest sort of outrage.

  Still, it seemed imperative that she oversee today’s meeting with Lord Sebastian.

  Since she had been old enough to realize that her parents were not responsible adults, Julia had felt that it was up to her to lead her inept family through the challenges of life. The thought of what might happen if she were not there today filled her with panic. What was he plotting? Sarah and Polly were both very naïve when it came to men of his ilk, but Julia clearly recognized that he was an unprincipled libertine.

  “Come on, Jule!” came Freddy’s strident voice from below. “I’ve set up the board and put away the lessons!”

  “Just a moment—” Biting her lip, she peered out over the grounds and spied Lord Sebastian and Sarah strolling into view. They passed under blossoming dogwood trees, and then Julia watched them emerge into the open sunlight, close enough to give her a clear view. She gasped. The villain had tucked Sarah’s tiny hand into the crook of his arm, and she was smiling up at him, looking ridiculously innocent.

  “Oh, look!” exclaimed Sarah. She turned and pointed up at the minaret balcony. “It’s my sister! Halloo, Julia!”

  She went crimson. To her horror, his lordship merely raised his hand to her. Then, he steered Sarah off in a new direction, but not before Julia perceived the wicked glint in his eyes.

  * * *

  There was an awkward silence at the luncheon table. Sebastian looked at Sarah Faircloth and her mother and discovered that both of them had finished their goblets of trifle. He folded his linen napkin.

  “That was a delicious meal. I appreciate your invitation, particularly in view of your recent tragedy.”

  “You are very thoughtful, my lord,” Polly replied. “Shall we have coffee in the sitting room?”

  Sebastian agreed, but as soon as the three of them were seated close together by the garden window, he said, “I fear that I’m in danger of overstaying my welcome. Allow me to explain the reason I asked to visit.” He turned slightly to look into Sarah’s lovely, thick-lashed eyes. “Miss Faircloth, I have come to ask if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife. This doubtless seems sudden, but I realized when I was here last that you are exactly the sort of lady I ought to wed.”

  Sarah had gone white as a ghost. Polly blinked, then tittered. “My lord!” she exclaimed. “You do my daughter a great honor! I am certain that she must be conscious of this!”

  He smiled ruefully. “I can see that Miss Faircloth is shocked. That is natural. I should add that I have been considering marriage for some time, and since the death of my parents and my brother’s exile—”

  Little wrinkles appeared in Polly’s brow. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”

  “My older brother George, now the marquess, began to gamble after he received his inheritance. He lost a good deal right here in Bath, and eventually was forced to leave England. He now resides in Tuscany.” Sebastian added, “You may surmise that I have added responsibilities, including one to carry on the Trevarre line since I am not certain what will become of my brother.”

  “You have our sincere sympathy, my lord,” Polly assured him.

  He winced. “I don’t want sympathy. I’d prefer that we reach an agreement that will benefit all concerned. If Miss Faircloth agrees to marry me, you would then be part of my family, and you and your son and daughter may remain at Turbans. In addition, Mrs. Faircloth, I would provide you and my wife’s siblings with an allowance…”

  “That is a very generous offer, my lord.” Polly stared hard at her younger daughter.

  “Are you quite certain you didn’t mean to ask Julia?” Sarah wondered meekly. “We are so similar-looking that people often confuse us. She seems to be much better acquainted with you than I have been.”

  “Absolutely not.” There was a hard edge of irony in his voice. He couldn’t say it aloud, but in truth he desired a marriage with as little emotional involvement as possible, and he was well aware that the very air was charged whenever he and Julia were together. “You, not your sister, are precisely the sort of woman I envision as my wife. You appear to possess every quality I find pleasing. Of course, I am also glad to think that uniting our two families would solve the problems that were upsetting you so much when last we met.”

  She nodded slowly, looking as if she might faint at any moment. “I see.”

  “My daughter is honored by your proposal,” Polly prompted her.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. And I realize…” Sarah paused for a deep breath. “I realize that there is only one answer I can give, my lord. I accept. Yes, I will marry you.”

  * * *

  By the time Julia was released from the minaret, dusk had gathered and dinner was being served. In near silence, the family ate lamb with mint sauce and squash with rice. Julia asked fo
r wine, then watched in surprise as her sister drank two glasses. Although still determined not to converse with her horrid mother, curiosity forced Julia to break down and inquire of Sarah whether or not Lord Sebastian’s visit had caused this uncustomary intake of spirits.

  Sarah stared vacantly at her. “Hmm?”

  “You are drinking wine for the first time in my memory…and you haven’t touched your meal. Did his lordship upset you?”

  “Upset me?”

  Julia cast a suspicious look toward her mother. “Clearly, something important transpired during Lord Sebastian’s visit. Who will tell me?”

  “Why, it is exceptionally good news!” cried Polly. “Your sister is going to be Lady Sebastian Trevarre!”

  “Do not make so cruel a jest, Mama.” Her heart seemed to have stopped. “Tell me the truth.”

  “Why would I jest? His lordship proposed marriage to Sarah and she wisely accepted. It means, of course, that we shall stay here at Turbans, and Lord Sebastian will provide us with an allowance. It’s good news for all of us!” She fussed with the silverware flanking her plate. “Your sister has rescued us, and in the bargain she’s made herself a splendid match! Are you aware of Lord Sebastian’s ancestry, Julia? His late parents were Marquess and Marchioness of Caverleigh, as well as Earl and Countess of Trevarre. Impeccable lineage. The Trevarre title dates back to Tudor times, and I wager there have been Trevarres in Cornwall since King Arthur!” Polly patted Sarah’s hand. “My darling child, what a coup you have achieved!”

  Freddy’s face was a study in confusion. “Sarah’s going to marry Lord Satan? But, what about Charles?”

  Next to him, Julia felt terribly cold. She looked at Sarah, who had gone white, and wanted to put her arms around her.

  “Mr. Whimple was merely a pleasant diversion,” Polly said. “A perfectly nice young man, but hardly in a class with Lord Sebastian Trevarre!”

  “This is an outrage, Mama!” cried Julia. “What you have done is—” Something made her stop, before she poured out all her fears about his lordship’s carnal appetites. What if Sarah went forward with the wedding? Perhaps there was more to it than Julia realized. Perhaps Sarah secretly cared for Lord Sebastian. She ought to learn more before voicing any more of her strong opinions. “I have lost my appetite. I am going to bed.”

  * * *

  Julia stayed up, reading by candlelight as long as she could, waiting for Sarah to come to her. Since they’d been children, Sarah had taken her troubles to her sister, who was three years older, rather than either parent. In London, it had been easier, for they had shared a bedchamber. At Turbans, Sarah had to say that she was borrowing a book or a bit or ribbon if their mother happened to appear in the corridor when she was stealing into Julia’s room.

  Tonight, hours passed, and Julia began to feel sleepy. It had been an enormously trying day, after all. Deciding that the night air was turning a trifle chilly, she pushed the tall windows closed, then padded across the threadbare Persian rug and climbed into the big bed. It had been one of Cousin Archibald’s great finds: a dark, heavy, Moorish piece that Julia had tried to soften with plain white bed-hangings and an embroidered coverlet.

  She was leaning over to blow out the last candle when the door opened a few inches and a nightgown-clad Sarah scampered in.

  “Shh!” she warned. “Mama is still walking the halls. I’ve been waiting for her to retire for hours! Oh, Julia, what in the world am I going to do?”

  A smile broke over Julia’s face. “I was afraid I’d offended you. Or, worse yet, that you actually wanted to marry Lord Satan!” Throwing back the covers, she made room for her sister to join her.

  Sarah’s chin was trembling and her eyes brimmed with tears as she climbed into bed and they embraced. “All I can think of is poor Charles,” she confessed, gulping back tears. “Although, in fairness, I must say that his lordship is not as terrible as you maintain. He’s quite the most dangerously handsome man I’ve ever come near.” Her eyes were like saucers. “I’d faint if he touched me, I think.”

  “Well, I would not!”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.”

  She felt her face turning pink. “What I mean to say is that I would never allow a wicked man like Lord Sebastian to frighten me or make me faint.”

  “I know that’s what you meant to say.”

  Their eyes met and they began giggling, covering their mouths so that the sound wouldn’t travel to their mother’s ears. “That’s better,” Julia gasped at length, and patted Sarah’s back.

  “I wish I could stay right here forever. I feel very safe in this bed.” They were both silent for a moment, then Sarah murmured, “I remember when we were children and I first began to realize that you were the one who was holding this family together. It was a very cold winter day. I think Mama and Papa had quarreled, as they so often did, and Papa didn’t come home from the bookshop in the evening.”

  Julia nodded. “He would lose himself in books when he couldn’t cope with life. Remember how he used to keep a stack at his desk in the shop and very often he would read rather than balancing the accounts or organizing the shelves? And then he would just keep reading and lose track of time.”

  “Yes,” her sister whispered. “He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, though.”

  “Of course not. And neither did Mama. I felt so sorry for her that day when it snowed and she stayed in bed with a sick headache, even after dinner time.”

  “Yes…But you just took charge. I don’t think you were more than eight or nine; Freddy wasn’t even born yet. You built up the fire, lit the lamps, and wrapped me in a blanket, and then you cooked for us. Cheese and some vegetable soup with a dumpling. It wasn’t very good, but I thought you were simply brilliant!”

  Tears burned Julia’s eyes as she remembered that night and the immediate relief she’d felt when she took control. She had gone to her mother’s bedside that long ago evening and called to her, but Polly had only moaned helplessly. It’s all up to me, she’d thought, and set about doing the simple things her own parents so often neglected. In the times when they could afford servants, Julia could plainly see that their housekeeper was better at seeing to the daily essentials than either Mama or Papa, neither of whom seemed to be very well suited to coping and raising children in the real world. There were even moments when Julia felt she was the parent…the only thing standing between the three young children and complete chaos in their household.

  “I’m still here to help you, darling,” she said now to Sarah. “How can our own mother sacrifice you to that man? It’s unthinkable.”

  “But Julia, she is trying to do the right thing for everyone concerned. She doesn’t understand me, or take me seriously, the way you do. She thinks that my love for Charles is merely a girlish fancy. And of course she thinks that I ought to be honored by his lordship’s attentions…”

  “Our dear mama can be rather a toad-eater.”

  Sarah giggled and wept at the same time, pressing the pillow to her face. “What can I do? There’s no way out. And of course, I know that it’s worth any sacrifice to keep Turbans in our family.” She peeked at her sister. “Perhaps he isn’t as bad as I fear. Mama tells me that my life will be like a fairytale.”

  “Beauty and the Beast,” Julia agreed.

  “Can I tell you a secret? I’m quite terrified of marrying him…if you take my meaning. He’s so strong, and cynical. What on earth does he want with me?”

  “I can guess,” Julia replied dryly.

  “What will Charles do when he hears? Have you already guessed that we are deeply, secretly in love? He may go mad. He’s terribly sensitive, you know!” Sarah sighed, then added, “A few weeks ago, I took an evening walk in the garden and made a vow before God that I would only ever engage in the…sacred union with Charles.”

  “Sarah, for heaven’s sake, please stop crying. You’re getting my nightgown wet.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “You are going to stay right here
at Turbans with Freddy and Mama, and carry on your romance with Mr. Whimple, and your life in Bath that you enjoy so much.”

  “How?” Sarah drew back in shock. The fluttering candle flame made magical patterns over her face. “How?”

  Julia had never felt more determined. “It’s quite simple, actually. I intend to marry him in your place!”

  Chapter 8

  The morning had been lovely, but now the puffy white clouds had assumed a threatening look, the cerulean sky had gone ash-gray, and cold raindrops spat at Sebastian’s face as he strode across the Pulteney Bridge toward the Sydney Gardens.

  “Why does everything in Bath have to be so—so decorous?” he muttered to Keswick, who was trotting a few steps behind. “I find it a dead bore.”

  “We perceive that you are referring to the carefully planned arrangements of classical buildings and gardens?”

  Sebastian didn’t reply because he had caught sight of a young lady beyond the bridge, who was alighting from a modest carriage. “Ah good, there’s Miss Faircloth.”

  “Miss Sarah Faircloth?”

  He stopped abruptly and turned to stare at his manservant. “Of course. Why would you imagine that I should be meeting Miss Julia Faircloth?”

  “Perhaps because my lord has spent far more time with the elder Miss Faircloth than with her sister.”

  “You are insolent. And stop calling me that.”

  “My lord?”

  “Exactly. When you overuse it in that fashion, I am immediately on alert.” Looking around, Sebastian saw a bookshop among the shops near the end of the bridge. “Go in there and choose a book while I speak to Miss Faircloth.”

  Keswick blinked. “Yes, my lord.”

  Sebastian went on alone, emerging from the shop-lined bridge that spanned the River Avon. Just ahead was the elegant Sydney Hotel, the centerpiece of the Sydney Gardens. In front of the hotel, which resembled a country manor house, stood Miss Faircloth. Her coachman was conversing with her as Sebastian approached, allowing him to study her unobserved.

  The brim of a pretty feather-trimmed blue bonnet concealed all but the delicate edges of her profile. When a sudden breeze caught the hem of her soft pale gray morning dress, it fluttered out to reveal graceful ankles and slippers of peacock-blue leather, and clung to the curve of her hip.