Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  “Good God,” said Sebastian with a laugh. “We can put a massive quantity of tea in there, and who would suspect that it would be in so obvious a place as under the captain’s bunk?”

  “Right. And all the while, we’ll have normal things in the ship’s cargo hold, just in case anyone is suspicious. I’m happy to pay the exorbitant duty on a few items, just to throw them off our scent.” As they emerged back onto the sun-dappled deck, Tristan continued, “I think our entire arrangement is flawless, right down to you, Captain. So many smugglers have been disreputable, immoral thugs. The last person the King’s Men would imagine to be a free-trader is Lord Sebastian Trevarre, a nobleman!”

  “If we weren’t dealing with Adolphus Lynton, the bloody Searcher of Salt, I might agree with your assessment, but I think he is longing to find me guilty of something so that he can clap me in irons and have his way with Julia.”

  “I am getting the feeling that you think every man in Cornwall wants to have his way with Julia.”

  Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Do you mean to be flippant? I am deadly serious when I tell you that I expect you to keep my wife from harm while I am away. If you accomplish nothing else, that alone will be sufficient.”

  Before Tristan could reply, Keswick came toward them with a pipe-smoking Jasper Polarven. The four men moved to the far end of the deck, overlooking the lazy green waters of the creek, to discuss plans for the coming days.

  After assessing that Jasper and Keswick had no concerns to report, Sebastian told them, “All right then, we’ll sail at dawn, with the wind and the morning tide. The crew should stay in place here tonight. Keswick and I will ride over before first light.” Turning to Tristan, he added, “I’ll leave Lucifer in your care.”

  “Everything be ready for the landing, Cap’n,” confirmed Jasper as he sucked on his pipe. “Trustworthy tub-carriers and batmen be signed on, as well as ponies to carry the goods inland to Mixstowe’s distribution points. They just be waitin’ to hear when and where you want ’em.”

  “Good work, Jasper. And I know that Robert and his cousin Preston have their plans well laid for dispersing the goods.” As he spoke, Sebastian could feel the electricity charging the air around the four men. “If all goes well, we will sail first to France, where I will meet with our contact in Roscoff to confirm arrangements for a cargo of brandy, tea, lace…and salt.” It pleased him to utter this last word, for that very morning he’d smelled the rotten pilchards as he’d ridden past a farm near Bodinnick, discarded as fertilizer because fishermen couldn’t afford the salt to preserve the fish for winter. There would be plenty of profit in the luxury goods they smuggled to allow him to make a gift of the salt to needy fishermen.

  “If we yet had saints in Cornwall, you’d be among ’em, sir,” Jasper told him with feeling.

  “I am no saint, for I mean to benefit from this enterprise as well.” He leaned against the railing and the trio gathered closer. “From Roscoff, we will sail to Guernsey, to meet with a merchant ship from the West Indies that pledges to share its cargo with us, and the Peregrine will then return to our bases, here and at Coombe Haven, to off-load those goods.”

  “And after that—back to France for the main cargo?” asked Jasper.

  Sebastian nodded. “That’s right.”

  “When should I assemble the tub carriers and ponies?”

  “If all goes according to plan, in ten days. It could be sooner, but the full moon is just passed and we must wait for moonless nights. We’ll hope to land here on the evening of June twenty-fifth. Jasper, don’t forget that, if you need him, Penrose will be here in his role as a Riding Officer.”

  “Yes, a smuggler disguised in the King’s colors!” exclaimed Tristan, and the others joined in his laughter. “You may depend on me to assist Jasper with the tub-carriers and batmen if that need arises. And, when the time comes, I shall give the signal from the cliff above the beach at Coombe Hawne that it is safe for Peregrine to land.”

  “We are bound to remind your lordship that this plan, while daring, is fraught with risks,” murmured Keswick.

  “Of course you are, but kindly refrain from elaborating,” Sebastian said. “And stop calling me that.”

  Tristan had brought out a bottle of port and poured cups for all four men. “Here’s to these first expeditions. May we all keep our wits about us and find good fortune in the days to come!”

  “Here, here!” shouted Jasper as their glasses clinked.

  The quartet were too caught up in the spirit of celebration to notice that young Drew Colvithick had stopped coiling lines and had moved near enough to overhear their conversation.

  * * *

  Riding home across the folds of lush, green hills that separated Lerryn Creek from Trevarre Hall, Sebastian was alive with the thrill of impending adventure. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced since the best days of his naval career.

  “My lord,” Keswick remarked in mild tones, “we discern that a once-familiar flash has returned to your smile. We have not seen it since our return to England and the news that your brother had gambled away the family fortune.”

  “How astonishingly observant you are,” came Sebastian’s mocking reply. However, as his old friend nattered on, he found his own thoughts pulled inexorably toward Julia.

  He was surprised to feel a longing to hasten their progress home so that he might share the events of the day with her, down to the smallest details of the Peregrine and his first sight of the ingeniously designed hiding places for their smuggled goods.

  He wanted to tell her how he had felt as the deck swayed under his feet and he inhaled the scent of the damp sails with their promise of a salt breeze, the open sea, and unimagined adventure.

  But of course he could not say any of this to Julia. Because she absolutely must not suspect his connection with smuggling, he must hold her at arm’s length so that she wouldn’t look into his eyes and glean some nugget of truth that might eventually put her in danger.

  For if she were to ask him, straight out, he might be able to lie to her with words, but he feared that his eyes could never fool her.

  “What’s that fellow Lynton doing in Bodinnick?” muttered Keswick as they crowned the hill atop the tiny village.

  Sebastian’s head swiveled toward him. “What?”

  “Just as we suspected, my lord; you were not listening to a word of the advice we were imparting,” he scolded. “If you risk being so preoccupied while at sea, we fear for the outcome of this enterprise.”

  “You said something about Lynton.”

  “He is there, my lord, walking his horse off the ferry and looking almost heroic in his new uniform.”

  “Don’t bait me, Keswick. I haven’t the patience for it today.” Shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, Sebastian watched the Searcher of Salt mount his horse and come slowly up the steep hill. “I suppose we had better wait. It wouldn’t do for him to think we were avoiding him, would it.”

  “Well, Lord Sebastian, we meet again. What a coincidence!” crowed Adolphus Lynton as he drew near and doffed his plumed bicorne hat. Then, after focusing on Keswick for an instant, he blinked and pointedly ignored him.

  “What brings you to Bodinnick, sir?” Sebastian asked, forcing himself to be polite.

  “Were you not aware that my territory stretches to Polperro? I must ferret the criminals from their very nests.”

  Sebastian’s face was impassive as he bit back a smile. “I pity the unsuspecting smuggler whose nest you mean to invade this afternoon.”

  Just then, the sound of hoof beats reached their ears and they all turned to see Tristan, now resplendently in uniform, cantering toward them on his dark-red roan. When he had reached the three men, he extended his gloved hand to Adolphus Lynton.

  “Good day, sir. I am not tardy for our appointment, I hope.” He smiled politely at Sebastian and Keswick as if he had not just been drinking port with them on the Peregrine. “Hello, my lord. You are well?”

  “Q
uite. That uniform becomes you. Are you rejoining your regiment in France?”

  “No, as you may recall, I have begun service as a Customs Riding Officer.” Tristan straightened his shoulders and added gravely, “I am assisting honest Revenue men like Lieutenant Lynton in capturing the criminals who would steal from the Crown.”

  Sebastian wanted to laugh and congratulate his friend on his acting abilities, but instead he only gave a sober nod. “I see. I have no doubt that, with the aid of good men like you, right will triumph in the end.”

  “Thank you. And how do you fare, my lord? Has Cornwall become more agreeable to you?”

  Grateful for the opportunity to account for his whereabouts over the coming week, Sebastian sighed. “Sadly, no. In fact, I continue to search for the means to restore Severn Park to my family. I depart for Hampshire on the morrow. As you may recall, my passion is breeding horses, and Severn Park has an established operation for that.”

  Adolphus Lynton looked bored. “I’m afraid I haven’t time for this fascinating conversation. Lord Senwyck and I have a previous engagement and must bid you adieu.” This time he only touched the brim of his hat. “Lord Sebastian, I must charge you to pass my sincere regards to your lovely wife. I confess, I find it impossible to imagine her ever being happy in this rustic outpost.”

  Through clenched teeth, Sebastian bade them both farewell and wheeled Lucifer around to start toward the road that led to Trevarre Hall. When they were out of earshot, he glanced at Keswick and muttered, “I despise that little stoat. It will give me immense pleasure to watch him squirm with frustration in the coming weeks, as he wildly attempts to catch the smugglers!”

  Chapter 22

  Julia stood between Mrs. Snuggs and Primmie at the long, scrubbed pine table in the center of the kitchen, chopping freshly picked parsley and then turning to sprinkle it into the pot of fragrant soup that simmered over the fire.

  When the last bits of parsley had been added to the soup, Julia paused for a moment to survey the whitewashed room with its centuries-old stone floor and polished copper pots “How inviting the kitchen looks,” she said approvingly. “I know that both of you have worked very hard, and I appreciate that. Trevarre Hall is becoming a proper home that we can all be proud of.”

  “Thank’e, mistress.” Mrs. Snuggs peered out from under her mobcap as if expecting the compliment to be followed by a new list of tasks to further improve the manor.

  Julia laughed. “Even your apron is clean. I am so pleased.”

  The old woman looked uncomfortable. “Yer ladyship be a good mistress.” Then she glanced at Primmie and waggled her eyebrows.

  “My lady,” Primmie chimed in, “we are wondering where the badger has got to? When we went in to clean your dressing room today, it weren’t there.”

  “I do never hear o’ such a thing as a badger in the house!” interjected Mrs. Snuggs.

  Julia used a towel to remove a fragrant golden-brown loaf of bread from the baking oven. Setting it on an iron trivet, she looked at the two women. “Daisy is in the stable. I decided that it would be better for her, since she is so much improved, to be with the other animals.”

  Before they could reply, the sounds of the back door opening and boots being scraped reached their ears.

  “His lordship!” Mrs. Snuggs exclaimed.

  Julia’s heart began to thump. Ever since the interlude she and Sebastian had shared in her dressing room, she had sensed that a barrier between them had been breached. In spite of the way it had ended, with his harsh words about Daisy, she felt that there had been a fundamental shift in their relationship.

  Sebastian had unlocked an inner door to her and Julia knew very well how much that meant.

  She was in the midst of untying her apron strings with one hand and reaching up to smooth back her wayward curls with the other when he appeared, ducking slightly under the low, beamed kitchen doorway. Tall, wide-shouldered, and lean-hipped, his raven hair tousled by the wind and his cheekbones darkened by the sun, Sebastian perfectly fit Julia’s image of an irresistible male—tonight, more than ever.

  “I’m not used to such enticing smells coming from my kitchen,” he said with a smile.

  Julia felt warm blood staining her cheeks. “While you are off doing God knows what, we are cooking.”

  He came closer, tantalizingly handsome in supple leather topboots and riding clothes, his white cravat loosened. “What is in that pot?” Reaching for a long spoon, Sebastian dipped it into the soup and tasted. “Ah, you’ve added barley. Delicious.”

  “The barley were my idea, my lord,” boasted the housekeeper.

  He flashed a grin. “Why, Mrs. Snuggs, I believe that you have become respectable! Not only are you masterminding my dinner, but you’ve also put on a clean apron and cap.”

  She gave him a reproving glance. “Ye do make an old woman blush! Now, leave my kitchen, yer lordship, afore ye cause a spill.”

  Julia cut a thick slice of bread, spread it with yellow butter, and followed her husband into the parlor. “Are you hungry?”

  “You’re an angel.” He eyed the bread longingly.

  “You didn’t think so last night, when you were scolding me about Daisy.” Feeling bold, she lifted the warm bread to his mouth, waiting.

  Sebastian stared into her eyes and took a bite. After savoring it for a long moment, he arched a brow. “I didn’t ‘scold.’ I was merely pointing out to you that a badger is not a pet.”

  When he paused to lick a bit of butter from his thumb, Julia felt a tingling sensation between her legs and her cheeks warmed. “I realize that you haven’t asked, but I shall tell you all the same that Daisy not only lived through the night, but she was so improved this morning that I took her to the stables.”

  “I didn’t ask because I already saw her there when Keswick and I returned tonight. And, you did the right thing.”

  Julia put a hand on his arm and looked up at him. “Sebastian, I—I realized that you are right. As much as I may love her, Daisy is a wild creature and it would be wrong for me to keep her here one moment longer than necessary.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Well, it’s a lesson I am only beginning to understand. “ She felt tears threaten and blinked them back. “I can’t dictate to others, not even a badger cub like Daisy. You would think I would have learned that after what happened to Papa.”

  “You couldn’t have changed that outcome, no matter what you did or didn’t do.” His hand covered hers for a long moment and his gaze grew tender. “Julia, I…”

  “Yes?” Her heart skipped.

  Sebastian blinked as if he’d caught himself on the verge of a fall. “I should find some soap and water before we dine. You’ve prepared too fine a meal to serve it to someone as travel-stained as I am.”

  As her husband backed away, then turned the corner and started up the stairs, Julia wondered if he could possibly be running away from her.

  * * *

  Throughout the delicious meal of soup crowded with fresh vegetables and herbs, roasted chicken, and more warm bread with butter, Sebastian tried to talk to Julia in a congenial yet slightly remote manner.

  Although he found her more appealing than ever, something inside him instinctively remained at a distance. Perhaps it was the part of him that sensed it would be too hard to continue to hide his secrets about the smuggling expedition if he let himself get closer.

  And Julia was amazingly perceptive, Sebastian reminded himself. If the sparks of intimacy that had sprung up between them last night caught fire, it would be impossible to hide the truth from her…and God only knew what dangers could result from that.

  “Did you see Tristan today?” she asked.

  “Briefly. He was going off with your Lieutenant Lynton to hunt for free-traders.”

  “Free-traders? Why give them such a romantic-sounding name when they are really just villainous, murdering, unwashed smugglers?” Her eyes sparkled as she added, “And, incidentally, Adolphus Lynton
is not my anything.”

  “Why are you so ill-disposed toward smugglers? You have been told, have you not, that most of Cornwall is involved somehow in running goods? And that the taxes levied by the Crown to pay for the war with France are so high that ordinary folk like fishermen would starve if there was no other course of action?”

  “It is a crime, punishable by transportation or hanging.” Julia shook her head. “And I’ve read some horrifying accounts of atrocities committed by smugglers.”

  “What sorts of atrocities?” He really wasn’t certain he wanted to know.

  “There was a book in Papa’s shop with engravings of Sussex smugglers who whipped men, cut off one’s nose, forced another poor fellow to dig his own grave and then buried him alive.”

  Sebastian raised a dismissive hand. “That was many years ago. Those men were certainly brutal criminals, but that doesn’t mean that anything like that is happening in Cornwall today.”

  “What about the wreckers? And the shocking stories of smugglers who board vessels with legitimate business and then proceed to kill the crew, steal the cargo, and sink the ship?” She paused for a moment to sip her wine before adding, “I must say that I find your views very surprising. Your friend Lord Senwyck certainly feels otherwise!”

  Sebastian made a rude noise. “Tristan is very young. He’s been away at university and in the Navy. What does he know about the real world, and the struggles of Cornish families?”

  “For a man who despises Cornwall and longs to live elsewhere, you are awfully sympathetic to the people here.”

  With studied nonchalance, he cut a bite of chicken, grateful for the flickering candlelight and its attendant shadows. Again, he fought the urge to lean forward and share the truth with Julia, but every word died before it could leave his lips. Instead, he must deceive her.

  “Since you mention my intention to reside elsewhere, I ought to tell you that…in the morning, I am going away, to Severn Park, for a short while.”