Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  The two men stood and shook hands, smiling, and Sebastian said, “I hope this is the beginning of a relationship that will continue to be rewarding in the future.”

  Next to him, Keswick muttered, “Don’t let her ladyship hear those plans…”

  * * *

  Standing outside the door of the suite of rooms rented by the Raveneau family, Sebastian was starting to wish he hadn’t invited Keswick to accompany him.

  “My lord, once again we urge you to confide in Captain Raveneau!” his erstwhile manservant was whispering.

  “And I urge you to keep your own counsel.” He raised his fist to knock, but paused just long enough to add, “You were there just now with St. Briac, our very competent agent. Your worries are groundless; everything is progressing very smoothly!”

  “Perhaps too smoothly, my lord! May we suggest—”

  He was interrupted when the door opened to reveal Devon Raveneau, looking especially lovely in an ivory and blue round gown. Her rose-gold curls were set off to advantage by a striped bandeau. She wore an exquisite collarette of sapphires, and her face shone as she gave an exclamation of pleasure.

  “Lord Sebastian! I nearly didn’t recognize you with that queue. How dashing you look. We did not know that you were in Roscoff. And Mr. Keswick, it’s lovely to see you. Do come in, gentlemen!” Turning, she led the way into the large sitting room, where young Nathan and Mouette were seated at a game table engaged in a lively round of backgammon. “We have taken several rooms here, very nearly the entire floor, so it is quite comfortable. Our only issue is the very low beams. My husband has struck his head too many times to count and is rather cross.”

  Sebastian saw the impish sparkle in her eyes and had to laugh. “I’m delighted that our paths have crossed once again, madam. I was in need of a dose of your special charm.”

  “Surely that is nonsense, for I know your wife, and she is every bit as charming as I.” Laughing, Devon turned to Keswick. “Is that not so, Mr. Keswick?”

  The little man raised his peaked eyebrows. “We can only say that both of you are exceptionally engaging women, Madame Raveneau.”

  “How very diplomatic!” Turning back to Sebastian, she continued, “What brings you to Brittany, my lord? Are you here, like André, to try to find a way to ship goods around the British blockades?”

  “Something like that…” He broke off at the sound of André Raveneau’s voice in the next room.

  “Devon? I’m nearly late for an appointment, but I can’t leave because I’m having a devil of a time with my cravat.” He strode into the sitting room, coatless, an untied neckcloth dangling down the front of his shirt.

  Little Lindsay Raveneau rushed across the threshold in her father’s wake. They were followed by a rather plump, round-faced girl who appeared at first glance to be nearly Mouette’s age. The bespectacled girl’s pale blond curls were coming loose from their pins, and she wore a gown of white muslin trimmed with yellow ribbons.

  Sebastian stared, but didn’t believe his eyes. When he looked around at the others, he saw that they were all watching him. Even Raveneau had stopped, and instead of greeting his friend, he turned back to the fair-haired girl.

  “Look who has come to visit us,” Raveneau said. “Perhaps he sensed that you were here.”

  The young lady’s eyes went wide behind her gold-rimmed spectacles, while joy and uncertainty mingled in her smile. “Sebastian? Can it truly be you?”

  Chapter 27

  In the next moment, the girl was hurrying toward him and Sebastian felt an uncomfortable rush of emotion. What could he do but open his arms to her?

  “My dear, I had no idea—”

  “The Raveneaus were so terribly kind to bring me with them, since, as you must know, I no longer have a home.”

  As she wept a bit against his shirtfront, Sebastian proffered a handkerchief with one hand and patted her back with the other. God’s blood, what a time for his sister to turn up!

  “Isabella had a holiday from school,” Devon was explaining, “and so we traveled to Devon to collect her and bring her along with us to France. She and Mouette have become quite good friends.”

  Raveneau sent Sebastian a pointed look from across the room. “No doubt you were intending to contact her school.”

  “Of course,” he lied. “If I had known, I would have come for you myself, Izzie.”

  Her eyes melted when she heard him say the pet name he’d given her as a child. “Oh, Sebastian! I knew that you had not forgotten me.”

  “I will own that I had forgotten how much you would have grown since the last time we met. It must have been five Christmases ago, just before I was commissioned and went to France.”

  Isabella laughed at that. “I was just a child then! Would you have known me today?”

  “Truthfully? No.” He patted her back, wondering what in the world he was going to do with her. “You have grown into a lovely young woman.”

  Devon came closer. “I think that we should plan to share a meal, all of us together, this evening. Sebastian, where have you hidden your bride? You did bring her, didn’t you?”

  “Can you imagine that Julia would tolerate being left behind?” Sebastian couldn’t keep the edge of irony from his voice, and Keswick poked him in the back with an elbow. “However, she is on board my ship. Given the war, it seemed a safer course of action for her to remain with the crew.”

  “Nonsense! Roscoff is perfectly safe now. Napoleon has gone off to Egypt, you know, and the army is falling to pieces.” She went to her husband’s side and began to tie his cravat for him. “The two of you have business to discuss, do you not? But later, we shall all dine together. Perhaps M’sieur Tocquer will allow us to use one of his private rooms.”

  * * *

  “M’sieur Tocquer has gone to great lengths to make this a memorable evening,” remarked André Raveneau, looking around the large room with its low, dark-beamed ceiling. Serving maids were lighting dozens of candles and laying the silver, crystal, and china for a table of ten.

  “The food smells delicious,” said Sebastian. He ruffled the dark hair of young Nathan Raveneau, who stood between the two men. “Are you hungry, Nathan? I was constantly ravenous when I was your age.”

  The boy nodded. “Yes, I am! And I find that the sea air makes me even hungrier.”

  “How fortunate you are to have been born into this family,” Sebastian told him soberly. “Your life is filled with adventures like this journey to Brittany, but even better, you are surrounded by love.”

  Nathan looked up rather quizzically. “I shall have to ponder that, my lord, since I am accustomed to my family and have never known any other sort.”

  “Yes, son, go upstairs and consider your good fortune, and escort the women down to join us, will you please?” Raveneau was smiling at young Nathan, who was already starting toward the door.

  “He is lucky indeed,” Sebastian said pensively. “And so are we. It is kind of you and Devon to bring us all together, especially since our time here is short. We sail at dawn, but I know that Julia would have been very disappointed not to see your family…and meet Isabella, of course. I’m sure they’re having a wonderful time already, while dressing for dinner.”

  Raveneau lifted one dark brow almost imperceptibly. “And did you desire to spend more time with your sister?”

  “Of course.” He hesitated, then decided to confide in the older man. “To be honest, I’m not certain what to do with her. Since returning to England, I have had to deal with my parents’ deaths, my exiled brother’s ambition to ruin not only himself but our family, a new and rather thorny marriage, and the realities of life in Cornwall.” He paused, sipping his wine. “You know that I despise Cornwall.”

  “Do you—still?”

  “I mean to live at Severn Park again.”

  “Knowing you, there is a daring plan in motion. I would caution you against risking your safety, or that of your lovely wife.”

  Sebastian glanced a
way. If Keswick were there, he knew he would have already poked him with an elbow, urging him to confide in the older man. “I am in the midst of executing such a plan, but I am not at liberty to discuss it.”

  “Of course not. I understand completely.” Raveneau put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “When I was younger, the last thing I wanted was advice from someone like me. And so, I will only repeat what I have said before: if you should ever desire assistance of any kind, you need only call on me.”

  Once again, Sebastian felt a tightening in his chest. His eyes stung, but he refused to let his emotions betray him. “I appreciate that, but everything is well in hand.” He glanced toward the table, which was ready to receive guests. “I see that there are nine places, but I count only eight of us.”

  “Oh, your friend St. Briac made himself known to me in the courtyard this morning, and I invited him as well. He seems to be an engaging fellow.”

  “Gabriel St. Briac?” Sebastian forced himself to sound casual.

  Just then, a handsome face appeared at the doorway. “C’est moi!”

  * * *

  “Is everyone ready?” Devon peeked into her daughter’s tiny bedchamber where Mouette, Isabella, and Julia were clustered around the dressing table.

  “Mama,” asked Mouette, “do you think that this gown is too revealing? Isabella insists that I am making a spectacle of myself!”

  Julia watched as Devon entered and brought a branch of candles closer to her daughter. “Hmm. Will you not wear a petticoat underneath? It is not that I disapprove, but I fear that your papa will be struck with apoplexy at the sight of you.”

  “Papa must realize that I am nearly a woman,” Mouette asserted. “But, I shall do as you say, Mama.”

  She went off with Isabella and a lady’s maid to add a petticoat under her nearly transparent gown, leaving Julia and Devon alone together.

  “I have been longing for a chance to speak with you, my dear,” said Devon. “You will never know how many times I have thought of you, wondering if you were happy in Cornwall with Sebastian.”

  Julia beamed at her. “I am happy. I have made my own happiness, rather than depending on Sebastian and then being disappointed. However, that said, I will confide that my husband and I are finding our way toward happiness of our own. He isn’t an easy man, but I love him madly.”

  “Ha! I know all about men like that, as I have told you. Our husbands are two of a kind, I suspect.” In a spontaneous gesture of affection, Devon embraced her young friend. “How pretty you look in my gown.”

  “You were very kind to loan it to me. In my haste to sail with Sebastian, I left my traveling trunk behind.” As she spoke, Julia noticed that Devon’s gaze had come to rest on the delicate ring that she wore around her neck. It dangled from its thin gold chain, brushing against the first curves of her breasts.

  “That is a very unusual piece of jewelry,” Devon remarked. “May I?”

  Julia nodded and watched as her friend examined the tiny miniature of a man’s eye.

  “How striking. Is this a gift from your husband?” queried Devon.

  “Yes, it is a gift from him, and I like to think that it is a painting of his eye, but in truth we are not certain.” She laughed a little. “It belonged to his mother, and she made a point of bequeathing it to him. It doesn’t look a bit like his father. I must say, it is rather disquieting to think it could be a stranger’s eye, watching me. That’s why I wear it around my neck.”

  “Yet, it does look very much like Sebastian, doesn’t it,” Devon mused. “Are his eyes gray?”

  “Rather, but I think of them as being more gray-green, like a stormy sea.” Gently, she took it back and looked down at the compellingly handsome eye. “It means a great deal to me that Sebastian gave me this ring, especially since it was his mother’s. I tell myself that it is his eye. Perhaps she had the ring made when he went away to university.”

  Slowly, Devon nodded. “Yes. No doubt that is what happened.”

  * * *

  When Nathan came to announce that the women should come down for dinner, Julia and Isabella went into the corridor and waited at the top of the stairs for Devon and Mouette. Julia was happy for the moment alone with her sister-in-law and reached for her hands.

  “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that we have met at last,” she told her sincerely.

  “Truly?” Isabella blinked back tears behind her spectacles. “It is very gratifying to hear you say so. I had begun to fear that my brother might never send for me.”

  “I know that he has intended to do so,” Julia said carefully, “but we were aware that you were occupied with your studies—”

  “Ha!” the girl scoffed. “The academy where my parents sent me is not a place for serious study of any kind. I told Mama, and she tried many times to persuade Father to bring me back to London, but he would not believe what I said.”

  “But, what sort of place is it then?”

  Isabella bit her lower lip. “Madame LaFlorence, the headmistress, is not even French! Just last week, I went through her papers while she was napping and discovered that her true name is Florence Jarrett. I believe that she is an actress.”

  “Well, that is disturbing news, but it does not mean that her school is without merit. What subjects do you study?”

  “Needlework. Spelling.” The girl’s expression vacillated between indignation and despair. “We perform plays. And…we eat. I know that I am growing too plump from the bread and sweets they feed us. Sometimes I eat out of boredom, even though I am not hungry.”

  Julia’s heart went out to her. Fourteen was such a difficult age, and how lonely Isabella must be without parents or a real home. “Is there nothing that you enjoy at school?”

  “Well, there is one saving grace,” Isabella admitted, brightening. “Last year, Madame brought an Italian artist to instruct us, and he has helped me learn to paint. That is my passion.”

  “Is it indeed?” Julia looked over as Devon and Mouette joined them and the quartet began to descend the broad staircase, escorted by young Nathan Raveneau. “I shall discuss all of this with Sebastian. I promise.”

  Isabella’s green eyes misted over again. “It is a frightening thing to be an orphan. My parents weren’t perfect, but at least they were there. Now, they are gone and our home is gone as well. If it weren’t for the Raveneaus, I would be alone. They have been very good to me, but Julia, they are not my family.”

  She nodded, squeezing her hand. “I understand.”

  As they continued down the stairs, Julia caught sight of Sebastian, standing with André Raveneau and another man she had never seen before. The tall, well-built stranger had dark chestnut hair that curled slightly, sculpted cheekbones, and a merry smile that lit his eyes.

  “Julia,” said Sebastian, coming forward to take her gloved hand. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. And doesn’t your sister look lovely?”

  “She does indeed.” He turned to the younger girl, smiling, and kissed her cheek. “I still cannot believe how you have grown, Izzie.”

  As Isabella beamed in reply, the stranger came forward. He wore an impeccably cut coat of dark-gray superfine that outlined his broad shoulders, kerseymere breeches, and top boots of the finest leather.

  “Madame, allow me to introduce myself,” he said, bending to kiss Julia’s hand. “I am Gabriel St. Briac.”

  Sensing Sebastian’s faint irritation with the Frenchman, she couldn’t resist allowing her hand to linger a bit longer in his. “It is a pleasure to meet you, m’sieur. Are you a friend of my husband’s?”

  “You might say so,” St. Briac replied, eyes twinkling. “We have not known each other very long, but we find that we have a great deal in common.”

  Sebastian gave him a quelling glance. “M’sieur, you must allow me to present my younger sister, Lady Isabella Trevarre. She is on holiday from boarding school and has traveled to France with our friends the Raveneaus.”

  St. Briac gal
lantly turned his attention to the young girl. Lifting her hand to his lips, he said in a low, husky voice, “My lady, it is my honor to know you.”

  Julia looked over at Isabella and saw the flush that crept into her round cheeks and the telling glow in her eyes. She appeared to be speechless for a moment, until St. Briac’s kind smile finally allowed her to whisper, “The honor is mine, m’sieur.”

  Glancing past the Frenchman, Julia saw Sebastian rub his eyes with long fingers, as if he feared that it was going to be long evening.

  * * *

  In the end, the meal was a festive occasion. Madame Tocquer was an accomplished cook who prepared not only cotriade, a Breton fish soup, but also roasted partridges, and a fine leg of mutton with white beans. There were delicate fresh peas, and Julia declared that the strawberries with crème fraiche were the juiciest she had ever tasted. Even the sweet Muscadet wine was sublime.

  Julia was happy to lose herself in the pleasure of the meal and the company. For that evening, she could almost pretend that her husband was not a lawless smuggler, but merely a dashing ship’s captain like André Raveneau. When Sebastian looked at her, his eyes seemed to burn her gown away, and she found herself dreaming about the night to come, when she would be naked with him again, kissing and touching feverishly under the moonbeams that streamed in through the ship’s transom windows.

  Around them, the other dinner guests kept up a witty conversation. At the center of it all was Gabriel St. Briac, a man who had been unknown to her a few hours earlier. There was something so compelling about the Frenchman that both men and women were clearly drawn to him.

  “M’sieur,” Raveneau said, pausing to choose a piece of rustic peach tart from the platter of sweets and cheeses, “I have a friend who is the lord of Château du Soleil, in the Loire Valley. The nearby village is called St. Briac. Are you from there?”