Sir Ashley's Mettlesome Match

by Mary Nichols

  Her aunt had been more worried about Ben than Nat’s disappearance and there was no one else in whom she could confide. The weight of anxiety and fear was dragging her down, sapping her energy, making her tense, ready to flare up at the least little thing and unable to work. It would be a relief to unburden herself. And so she did, telling him why she had been on the beach, not knowing her brother was also there. ‘I do not know if he went on board the cutter or not,’ she said. ‘But if he did, why did he not come home when it came a second time?’

  ‘There could be a number of reasons,’ he said slowly. ‘Do you know the name of the ship?’

  ‘I believe it was the Sally Ann. Why?’

  ‘The Sally Ann might have had a legal cargo as well as the contraband, in which case we should be able to find out who owns her and who is her master. We might learn where she picks up her cargoes and the ports at which she calls.’

  ‘You mean Nat might have a legitimate reason for being on board?’ There was a note of hope in her voice, which he did not have the heart to crush.

  ‘It is possible,’ he said. ‘It is worth making enquiries. For instance, did she sail back to home port after the landing was interrupted four nights ago? Did she put in somewhere else? Did she simply stand off until the captain received the signal that it was safe to come in again? If the cutter put in somewhere, your brother may have disembarked….’

  ‘Then he would surely have come home.’

  ‘Unless he was on foreign soil when that would not be so easy.’

  ‘I cannot imagine why he would go ashore in any other country.’

  ‘I could endeavour to find out for you.’

  ‘And have him arrested the minute he shows his face?’

  ‘I do not have the authority to arrest anyone, Miss Kingslake.’

  ‘But you took Ben into custody.’

  ‘He surrendered himself, and that is what I would encourage any smuggler to do. It is easier to defend such a one if he voluntarily gives himself up and publicly regrets his lawbreaking.’ He paused. ‘Do you think your brother is guilty of smuggling?’

  ‘No.’ She was emphatic. She had to be. ‘I am sure he only meant to fetch Ben home.’ She prayed that when Nat was found, he could convince everyone that was the case. With Sir Ashley on their side, they might win. ‘Do you think you can find out where he is? If he is in Norfolk, I am sure he would have come home or at least found a way of letting us know he is safe.’

  ‘I can but try. I have to go to London on business, but while I am there I shall find out all I can about the Sally Ann.’

  Her shoulders began to relax as the burden was lifted from them, and though it had not completely disappeared, she found herself breathing more easily. Sir Ashley, for all his insistence on staying within the law, was her liberator. She prayed he could liberate Ben and Nat too. Why he should want to was a mystery. ‘I will come too.’

  ‘No, my dear, much as I should enjoy your delightful company, you must be here in case your brother returns.’

  ‘I suppose you are right,’ she conceded, plainly reluctant.

  He smiled. ‘You will not do anything foolish while I am away, will you? I do not want to hear you have gone off tracking the tub carriers to their destination. They will have no mercy if you are discovered and it matters not if you are dressed as a man or a woman.’

  ‘I won’t. I am sure Nat is not with them.’

  ‘Nor do I wish to hear you have agreed to marry Sir Felix.’

  She laughed. ‘You need have no fear of that, sir.’

  ‘Be especially careful not to let him lure you into a compromising situation as he very nearly did last night.’

  ‘I had no idea when we left the vicarage that he would take me to the Manor. I was shocked and so glad to see you…’

  ‘Because I saved you from a fate worse than death, or would you have been pleased to see me without that?’ He did not seem able to stay serious for long.

  ‘You are roasting me again, sir. And I will not answer.’

  He smiled. ‘Then I will take my leave.’

  They both stood up, so close to each other it was easy for him to reach forwards and take her face in his hands and tilt it up to his. ‘Goodbye, my muse, take care of yourself until I come again.’ He studied her face for what seemed a long minute, then lowered his mouth to hers.

  It was the same gentle, undemanding kiss as before, but it was enough to set her body on fire with longing. She could feel the warmth spreading right inside her, down into the very core of her, where all her desires were hidden. But they were not hidden now, for she did not want it to stop and she did not care if he knew it. Her arms came up and then dropped again as she surrendered. He took his hands from her face and put his arms about her, holding her against him from shoulder to thigh. She put her arms about his waist so that she could pull him closer. Closer. Tighter.

  This was becoming dangerous. He lifted his head and leaned back to look at her, smiling crookedly. ‘How is it that you manage to make me forget I am a gentleman?’ he murmured, taking her arms from around him and putting them by her sides.

  ‘Were you ever one?’ She was pink and breathless.

  ‘I thought I was.’ He reached forwards and took a wild red curl in his finger and tucked it behind her ear. She shivered. ‘Now I must go before I disgrace myself entirely,’ he said. ‘Remember what I have said. I will return.’

  It was only after he had gone, after the last echo of his horse’s hooves had faded from her hearing, that she sat down in a kind of trance, trying to make sense of her own feelings, wondering what that kiss had meant to him. It had meant all the world to her. She could still taste his lips, still feel his hands cupping her cheeks, his body crushed against hers, and she squirmed with sensuous pleasure.

  It took some time for her to come down from the clouds, but when she did and began to think rationally again, she remembered he was a rake, he had had any number of mistresses and he certainly knew how to seduce. She had come within a whisker of giving in to him. He had known that, of course he had. But he had been the one to draw away. Was that how he operated? Giving just enough to make his paramour beg for more and then holding back? But she was not his paramour and she had learned her lesson. Put it down to experience, she told herself, but, oh, how impossible that was!

  She returned to her writing, but it was dead; there was no life to it. She put it on one side and went out for a brisk walk along the shore line, hoping for inspiration. There were a few fishermen mending nets and farther out the cockle-pickers had returned and were filling their baskets. It was so peaceful it was almost impossible to believe it had been the scene of two smugglers’ landings when the beach had been littered with contraband. Every single ounce of tea, every drop of cognac, every pinch of tobacco, every yard of silk and teaspoon of spice had gone from it and the sand was clean, washed once more by the tides.

  Some of it must surely be stacked in local houses for the occupants’ use, but most had been sent on, she knew not where, bought and paid for, and the tub carriers and batman compensated. It was they who took the greatest risk and it enabled them to earn prodigious sums of money, which she found hard to begrudge them. Perhaps she ought to forget about using smugglers in her story and find another theme; a book which sympathised with the lawbreakers would find no favours with the upholders of law and order. It might even be banned. The trouble was that Robert Dodsley, her publisher, was expecting a book about smuggling; they had talked about it at some length.

  By the time she had returned home, her mind was almost made up. She would go to London and visit Mr Dodsley and maybe, just maybe, she could join Ash in his enquiries about the Sally Ann. She refused to examine her motives any closer than that. She was sure her mother’s cousin, Eleanor, would welcome her for a visit of a few days. Eleanor, who was the wife of Lord Trentham, had a fine house in Piccadilly. They had been out of the country during that disastrous Season when she and Edward were courting, so they were unlikely
to have heard the gossip. Even six years later, she was still sensitive about that.

  There was no one to dissuade her, no aunt, no Nat, her resolve was doubly strengthened when Sir Felix called late that afternoon and, after a lengthy preamble about his own needs and eligibility and the hopelessness of her ever attracting a better offer, proposed marriage.

  ‘I am persuaded you will find the arrangement to your liking,’ he said. ‘I have much to offer. The Manor is not my only home. I have another property between Norwich and Yarmouth and an interest in shipping. You would have all the new clothes, jewels and trifles you want, and you would not need to work at your books again.’

  ‘I enjoy writing them,’ she said, wondering who had told him about them. Sir Ashley or her aunt, or even Ben. It was most likely to have been Ben when explaining why he went to watch the smugglers.

  ‘Naturally, I have nothing against you continuing your hobby, when you are not occupied with wifely duties, that is.’

  She was tempted to laugh and would have done if the subject had not been so serious. She had been keeping Windward House and all its occupants in a fair degree of comfort for the last eight years and he called it a hobby! ‘Sir Felix, you honour me,’ she said, forcing herself to be polite. ‘But I fear the answer is no.’

  ‘Do not be in such a hurry to reject me,’ he said, apparently unperturbed. ‘Give it more thought. I can make sure your brother and cousin are freed of all charges.’

  ‘They have not been charged with anything.’

  ‘Oh, but they will be, you may be sure of it,’ he said.

  It was a scarcely veiled threat. She wondered if he would have made it if Sir Ashley had been present. Sir Ashley had said he would help her and he had not asked for payment. Yet. ‘Very well, Sir Felix, I will give your kind offer due consideration,’ she said.

  ‘Good,’ he said, bowing his way out. ‘I shall expect your answer by the end of the week.’

  As soon as he had gone, she sat down and contemplated a future as Lady Markham and shuddered with horror. Yet, if she refused, Nat, and even Ben, might die at the end of a rope. Both prospects were insupportable. But if she were in London, she would not be in Narbeach when he required his answer. It would only postpone it, but it might give her a little more time to locate Nat. She summoned Teresa. ‘Pack,’ she told her. ‘We are going to London.’

  ‘We?’ Teresa squeaked. ‘You mean me, too?’

  ‘Yes, I cannot travel without a maid and companion. We shall only be gone a few days so we do not need to take more than one trunk and a portmanteau. And then alert Joe that I shall need the carriage tomorrow morning immediately after breakfast to take us as far as Fakenham. We can go by stage the rest of the way.’

  The next day, accompanied by an excited Teresa, they set off with a reluctant Joe driving. He was quite sure, he muttered, that Mr Nathaniel would not countenance the trip if he were at home. She ignored him and in Fakenham she and Teresa boarded a stagecoach for Norwich, leaving him to return to Narbeach with instructions to look out for Nat and tell him all that had happened.

  The stage travelled along the same road they had used when Sir Ashley had taken her and her aunt to Norwich and would be passing close to Fairfields. She could break her journey to visit Aunt Augusta and Ben, but decided her aunt would only try to persuade her not to go and it was better not to give her the opportunity. Once in London, she would write and tell them where she was.

  The journey took a great deal longer than it had when travelling in Sir Ashley’s luxurious carriage and it was late when they arrived in Norwich where she intended to change on to the London stage. She had perforce to take a room in the Maid’s Head for the night. Luckily the proprietor remembered her coming with Sir Ashley and that was enough to secure them excellent accommodation.

  Pippa had no idea how Sir Ashley was travelling but had no doubt he was a long way ahead of her. She did not mind that; meeting him on the way would almost certainly end in him insisting on taking her back and that would delay their investigation. It was desperately important to locate Nat before the week was up and she had to give Sir Felix her answer.

  Ash had taken his carriage as far as Norwich. Sending it back to Fairfields, he had boarded the London stage a whole day ahead of Pippa. The coach was unsprung and thoroughly uncomfortable, but he hardly noticed. He was immersed in thoughts of Pippa and memories of that kiss. She had wanted it, had as good as invited it and, cur that he was, he had succumbed. She pretended to be a hoyden, went about dressed in strange garb, but at that moment she had been sweetly feminine. Her eyes, when he had released her, had been shining like two emeralds, except that emeralds were hard and her eyes had been softly unfocused, her cheeks a rosy pink. As for her mouth… It had taken all his resolve not to kiss her again. He could still taste her lips, could still feel the warmth of her lovely body against his. He was in mortal danger of falling in love, really in love… Had he run mad?

  Sir Ashley Saunders, dilettante and rake, was how he was known. It did not detract from his popularity and, when in town, he was invited everywhere. He had cultivated the image; it was surprising how much he could learn from the ladies whose pillows he shared and it was all grist to the mill of his investigations as one of the Piccadilly Gentlemen. It was not all duty, he was obliged to admit, because he enjoyed their company. But Miss Philippa Kingslake was altogether a different matter. This time the recipient of his kisses was a true lady, not a Cyprian who obliged for payment and presents. He must not let it happen again because in the end she would be the one to be hurt and he would do anything to avoid that.

  London, when he arrived the following day, was its usual bustling self. The streets were wet and muddy after the rain and he hired a chair to take him to his London home, halfway down Pall Mall. The houses at the western end of the street, particularly those on the south side, were the residences of the upper echelons of society, Ash among them. He had moved there after the lease of his apartment in Lincoln’s Inn Fields expired and he needed something more befitting his status. Mortimer, his valet, had been left behind when he went to Norfolk, much to that gentleman’s annoyance; now he clicked his tongue at his master’s dishevelled appearance, as he helped him out of his travelling clothes and into a bath. ‘It is hoped no one saw you arriving,’ he said, bundling up the discarded clothes. ‘Your reputation would be in ruins.’

  ‘Yours, you mean.’ Ash grinned. ‘Rest easy, I saw no one I knew.’ He stood up and took the towel Mortimer offered him. ‘Now fetch out the dove-grey coat and breeches. And the yellow waistcoat.’

  Once attired in the grey suit, pristine white shirt, lace neckcloth and canary yellow waistcoat, gold-clocked hose and buckled shoes, he left the house and made his way to Piccadilly and Lord Trentham’s house for the regular meeting of the Society for the Discovery and Apprehending of Criminals.

  He was the last to arrive. James, Jonathan, Harry, Alexander and Sam Roker were already seated at the table: James soberly dressed in slate grey, Jonathan very elegant in cream and blue, Harry, the fop, in pink and brown with an outrageous pink-spotted waistcoat. Alex was dressed in the dark blue affected by naval officers. Ash bowed to them all. ‘I beg your pardon for my tardiness,’ he said, taking his seat. ‘I only arrived back from Norfolk this morning.’

  ‘Then let us get down to work,’ James said. ‘Reports first. Jonathan, we will begin with you.’

  Jonathan had been investigating a case of fraudulent share dealing; Harry was chasing up a couple of highwaymen who had escaped from Newgate with the help of one of the warders; Alexander was searching for a young lady who had apparently been abducted, though, in his opinion, she had gone willingly. James had been tied up with Lord Trentham over the effect the constant smuggling was having on the nation’s finances and how best to combat this with troops returning from the war with France. This led to Ash’s own investigation.

  Reluctant as he was, it was his duty to report everything, but he made as little as possible over Ben’
s involvement and he said nothing at all about Pippa and Nat. ‘The business is dragging in the whole population of the village,’ he said, ‘whether they want to be part of it or not. They are too frightened to refuse.’

  ‘Frightened of their neighbours?’ James asked.

  ‘More likely of Sir Felix Markham, who holds the living of most of them in his hands.’

  ‘And is Sir Felix the brains behind the enterprise?’

  ‘I cannot be sure. He certainly deals in contraband goods. I was able to look round his cellars while I was there and there was a considerable amount of free-trade brandy stored behind the legitimate casks. Most of it was gone the following night.’

  ‘Do you know where it was taken?’

  ‘No, I was otherwise occupied when it was shifted.’

  Jonathan grinned. ‘Was she beautiful?’

  Ash ignored him. ‘I plan to make enquiries about the Sally Ann, which brought the goods in. She is a fast cutter. I am sure she was built for smuggling and, in that case, her owner is probably the kingpin of the operation.’

  ‘How do you propose to begin?’ James asked.

  ‘I thought if the Sally Ann also had a legitimate cargo it would be listed at Lloyds.’

  ‘And even if she didn’t,’ Alex said, ‘some of the underwriters do not question the business of the ships, only the risk.’

  Recently retired on half-pay, though still a young man, Captain Alexander Carstairs was a comparatively new member of the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club.

  ‘The risk for a smuggling ship must surely be high.’

  ‘The premium likewise. And many of them are armed to the teeth. It takes a determined Revenue cutter to take them on at sea. That is why the Customs prefer to grab the free traders when they are unloading. Less risk to the underwriters.’

  ‘Yes, I can see you are probably right,’ Ash conceded.