Meg Alexander

by The Gentlemans Demand

  ‘That may arouse suspicion,’ she told him in alarm. ‘Country folk are wary of strangers. They’ll expect me to employ local men.’

  ‘And so you shall,’ he soothed. ‘The men I send will not alarm your clientele, and nor will you, I hope.’

  Sophie stared at him. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Well, ma’am, can you unbend sufficiently to mix with the lower orders with any degree of civility?’

  She eyed him coldly. ‘If I can be civil to you, I should have no difficulty,’ she replied in icy tones.

  ‘Ouch!’ He threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘Point taken, ma’am!’

  Sophie ignored that comment. ‘You spoke of haste. When must I reopen?’

  ‘This week, I think. What will you need?’

  ‘Servants, supplies of food and liquor…everything, in fact.’ She went on to add to the list with abandon, hoping to dismay him, but he merely nodded.

  ‘Very well, two of my own men should be enough. Hire others where you can. You made an excellent point. Too many strangers will frighten off our quarry.’

  ‘You seem very sure that the men you seek will come here.’ She gave him a curious look.

  ‘Nothing is more certain if you play your part. How good an actress are you?’

  ‘I can’t see how that should signify.’

  ‘Then let me explain. Suppose you should overhear some word about this recent tragedy? You strike me as a woman of some spirit. Could you keep your feelings to yourself?’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘I must hope so, Mistress Firle. It might mean the difference between life and death. I want no heroics from you.’

  ‘Must you try to frighten me?’

  ‘Yes!’ he told her bluntly. ‘Try to understand what we are dealing with. These men would slit your throat without a second thought. There is too much at stake for them to show you any mercy.’

  ‘I need no convincing, Mr Hatton.’

  ‘Then heed my words. Dead, you are not of the slightest use to me. Alive, you are worth your weight in gold.’

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ she said slowly. ‘Why do you imagine that I’ll succeed when your own trained men have failed?’

  ‘They didn’t fail altogether, ma’am. We have come close on more than one occasion, only to lose our quarry at the last, betrayed by an informer. The pattern has always been the same.’

  ‘But you must have some inkling as to when and where illicit goods are landed…’

  ‘We’ve had our successes, but goods, as you term them, are not my main concern. French spies arrive here on a regular basis. Worse, English gold is being smuggled from this country to pay Napoleon’s troops.’

  ‘Why gold?’

  ‘For profit. An English guinea will sell for half as much again in Paris.’

  ‘But fisherman have not the means to buy them.’

  ‘Exactly. There are powerful men behind this trade, and they are the ones I want.’

  ‘I see.’ Sophie was beginning to understand the motive behind this single-minded pursuit of England’s enemies. ‘Do you know who they are?’

  ‘I do, but I must have proof before they can be taken. In the meantime, my men are still at risk.’

  Sophie detected a note of deep concern. ‘So you do care about their safety?’

  ‘They are my responsibility,’ he said shortly.

  ‘And that is all?’

  ‘What else?’ His words were a challenge, warning her to expect no softening in his attitude.

  She decided to ignore the rebuff. In the course of their conversation she’d found herself in sympathy with his motives for involving her, but she could not like him.

  ‘How long do you intend to stay here?’ she asked casually. ‘Surely your men will be able to give me protection enough?’

  ‘Anxious to be rid of me?’ His eyes were twinkling with amusement. ‘What woman would turn down the attention of a devoted swain?’

  Sophie did not reply. She was torn between a strong desire for his protection, and an even stronger dislike of his arrogance. This was a man accustomed to giving orders. It was clear that he expected them to be obeyed without delay.

  This might work with his minions, she thought rebelliously, but he must learn that he could not rule her life.

  ‘Perhaps your concern is for my safety?’ he mocked. ‘Pray don’t worry about me, ma’am. I have the best of explanations for my presence here. Your charms are such that I could not stay away…’

  Sophie rose to her feet, pink spots of colour in her cheeks. ‘Another cheap gibe?’ she said coldly. ‘That remark is in the worst of taste.’

  ‘Oh, do sit down!’ he snapped. ‘Damned if you aren’t the prickliest female I have ever met! Good God, woman, can you think of a better story?’

  ‘This story is ridiculous! No one will believe it!’

  ‘Why not? For years I have loved you from afar. Even when you refused my suit I never gave up hope, but when you eloped with Firle my friends feared for my sanity…’

  ‘I’m not surprised, Mr Hatton. I have doubted it myself, but I see that it amuses you to make may-game of me.’

  ‘This is no game, I can assure you. I thought I had made that clear. Now that you are widowed, will it be thought strange that I should wish to offer my heart once more?’

  ‘Strange, indeed, since you don’t appear to have one!’ Sophie did not trouble to hide her contempt.

  ‘Temper!’ he reproved. ‘Now, ma’am, you must be tired. You’ve had an exhausting day, which, you will admit, has been overfull of incident.’

  ‘And what has that to do with you?’

  ‘Forgive me! I am concerned about the health of my beloved, you see.’ The dark eyes danced as he looked at her. ‘Your father’s offer of a home and your refusal will not have gone unnoticed in this household. Sir Edward has a penetrating voice. Then there was the unfortunate incident when you burned your gown, and finally you have been forced to listen to my outrageous suggestions. May I suggest that you retire?’

  ‘You may not! I am no schoolgirl, sir, to be dismissed at will. Pray keep your opinions to yourself. If you must know, I am not tired in the least.’

  It was true. For the first time in weeks, Sophie felt alive again. Now there was some purpose to her life. She could serve her country and help catch the men who had murdered Richard. Then, too, she would earn enough to secure a decent future for herself and Kit.

  If she had to work with Nicholas Hatton to achieve those ends she would do so, but it would not be easy. The longer she was in his company, the more she found herself disliking him.

  She watched him as he tugged at the bell-pull. When Abby arrived he asked to see her mother.

  Sophie was mystified. ‘What do you want with Bess?’ she asked.

  ‘I am minding my manners,’ Hatton told her solemnly. ‘Is it not usual to thank the cook for a good dinner?’

  She looked at him in suspicion. This kindly gesture was surely out of character. This was a devious man. He must have some ulterior motive.

  He didn’t leave her in doubt for long. As Bess tapped at the door a large hand seized her own and raised it to his lips. She struggled to free it, but his fingers closed. Furious, she looked up at her companion, to find that he was regarding her with a tender smile.

  Then, apparently, he became aware of Bess. In some confusion he dropped Sophie’s hand, and stammered out some words of thanks.

  ‘Why, sir, it was a pleasure.’ Bess smiled, disarmed at once by his compliments. ‘Abby tells me that the mistress has eaten well, and high time too.’

  ‘I fear that she has been neglecting herself.’ Hatton regarded Sophie with a fond expression. ‘With your help, Bess, we shall restore her to the girl I knew so long ago.’

  ‘Mistress, you should have told me,’ Bess reproved. ‘Here we were, all so worried about you dining with a stranger…and the gentleman ain’t a stranger, after all.’

  ‘I
didn’t say he was,’ Sophie told her stiffly. ‘I said that Mr Hatton was respectable—’

  She ignored a choking sound from her companion, but as Bess whisked out of the room she rounded on her tormentor.

  ‘Must you behave in this ridiculous way?’ she asked.

  ‘It served. If I am not mistaken, Bess is at this moment forecasting wedding bells for you… I hope I have convinced her. As I explained to you, my experience of women is somewhat lacking.’

  Recalling his seductive tones, Sophie gave him a sour look. ‘Don’t take me for a fool!’ she said. ‘At a guess, I would say that your experience is vast.’

  ‘Then you feel that Bess is convinced?’

  ‘Bess is a foolish old woman. She believes that no woman can survive without a man to care for her.’

  ‘And you do not?’

  ‘No, I do not, and in the future I hope to prove it.’

  ‘What an innkeeper you will make! Why, in a month or two you’ll have the countryside agog. Men will flock to this place in droves—’

  ‘Why so?’ She saw his smile and realised that the question was a mistake.

  ‘Think about it, Mistress Firle! A beautiful young widow in possession of a highly desirable property? What could be more tempting?’

  ‘I shall not encourage them.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you will.’ His smile vanished as he leaned towards her. ‘For a start, you will change your manner. That cool reserve is well enough in a girl, but you are a woman grown. You have had a husband and a child.’

  ‘You suggest that I should flaunt myself? Low-cut gowns, perhaps?’

  ‘Not necessarily, but you will need more suitable clothing. I’ll drive you into Brighton in the morning.’

  ‘I have no money for fripperies.’

  ‘That need be no problem.’ He took out a sheaf of banknotes and pushed them towards her.

  Sophie was tempted to throw the money in his face, but common sense prevailed. ‘I shall need some things for Christopher too,’ she warned.

  ‘Use it as you will,’ he said indifferently. ‘But use it. Don’t think to set some part of it aside…’

  Sophie coloured, wishing him to the Devil. He had the most uncanny ability to read her mind. She’d intended to start her nest-egg with some of the money.

  ‘I shall inspect your bills,’ he continued remorselessly. ‘Nothing too fancy, mind. Your gowns must be such as would become a recent widow, but no black, I beg of you.’

  ‘Perhaps you would care to choose them?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘I’ll do so if you wish, but I’m sure that I can rely upon your taste.’

  ‘You are too kind!’ To her annoyance the sarcasm failed to move him. He only laughed and shook his head.

  ‘Temper again!’ he teased. ‘Take care, my dear, or Matthew and his family will not believe our story.’

  ‘They are not to know anything of our plans? Mr Hatton, I would trust them with my life.’

  He looked at her in silence. ‘Let me ask you something,’ he said at last. ‘Let us suppose that you were in the possession of certain information. You refuse to tell. Then your son is held in front of you at knifepoint. What would you do?’

  ‘You know what I would do. I’d tell at once.’

  ‘But you believe that Mathew does not have the same regard for his wife and children?’

  Sophie hung her head. ‘I see what you mean,’ she replied. ‘They shall learn nothing from me.’

  ‘Good! Now, ma’am, if I may see you to your door?’

  ‘Certainly not!’

  ‘Great heavens, can you still believe that I have designs upon your honour?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she retorted. ‘But it will give rise to talk.’

  ‘And was that not what we intended? Don’t worry! I will leave you at your door—’

  ‘You will leave me at Kit’s door,’ she told him firmly. ‘I always look in upon him before I retire.’

  Kit was asleep, but, as usual, he had cast aside his coverlet. Sophie replaced it. Then she bent to kiss him, resenting Hatton’s presence as she did so.

  ‘You may leave me now,’ she said.

  He bowed and allowed her to proceed him from the room.

  ‘Brighton tomorrow, then?’ he suggested. ‘Shall we say at ten in the morning, after breakfast?’

  She was about to agree when suddenly and without warning, he caught her to him.

  ‘Don’t struggle!’ he hissed. ‘We are being watched.’ Then his mouth came down on hers.

  Sophie stood rigidly within his grasp, but her senses quickened. To her dismay she found that her own body was betraying her. She was responding insensibly to the pressure of those warm lips. Long-forgotten emotions coursed through her body. Then she pulled away.

  With an inarticulate exclamation she fled to the safety of her room.

  Chapter Three

  Abby had missed nothing of the exchange between her mistress and the stranger. She hadn’t intended to spy on them as she went about her business of turning down the covers in the bedrooms and sliding warming-pans between the sheets, but the sight of their embrace transfixed her.

  Now she thrust her candle into Nicholas Hatton’s hand to light his way back to his rooms. Then, agog with curiosity, she hurried after Sophie.

  ‘Is all well, mistress?’ she asked as she entered the bedchamber.

  ‘Of course!’ Sophie was pale but composed. ‘Why should you imagine that aught is amiss?’

  Abby was disconcerted. ‘Why, ma’am, I wondered if the gentleman was taking liberties, with him being a stranger an’ all…’

  ‘I have already explained to your mother that Mr Hatton is not a stranger to me,’ Sophie said mendaciously. ‘If you must know it, he made me an offer before I married Mr Firle. Now he is come to renew his suit.’

  Colour suffused her face. Sophie was unaccustomed to lying, but she knew that it was necessary, if only to allay the girl’s suspicions.

  Apparently she had succeeded. Abby beamed at her.

  ‘Why, ma’am, it’s like a fairy-tale!’ she exclaimed. ‘Shall you take him, do you think? We’d all be that pleased for you—’

  ‘Great heavens, Abby, give me time! I have no thoughts of marriage at this moment. My husband has not been dead above a month…’

  Her sad expression discouraged further questioning, but Abby’s thoughts were racing as she helped her mistress into her night attire. Dismissed at last, she hurried down to the kitchen to relay her news.

  Bess hushed her eager chatter sternly. ‘You’d do well to keep a still tongue in your head,’ she warned. ‘If I’m not mistaken, yon Mr Nicholas Hatton ain’t the man to cross.’

  ‘I thought you liked him,’ Abby protested.

  ‘He’s well enough, but I make naught of his thanking me for his dinner. That’s the way of the gentry. Words cost nothing, but they’ll use you if they can.’

  ‘Then you think he’s come to use the mistress?’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s gentry too, of course. It may be as she says and he’s hoping that she’ll wed him.’

  Abby whirled about the kitchen, her head filled with romantic fancies. ‘I hope so, Mother. If you’d seen him reach for her… He kissed her like a starving man offered a meal at last.’

  ‘Give over with your nonsense! Starving, indeed! Why, a man like that can take his pick of a dozen likely wenches.’

  ‘I expect so, but the mistress is so beautiful.’

  ‘She ain’t the girl she was when I first knew her. These days she’s naught but skin and bone, eating nothing even when the food was there for her.’

  ‘But she ate well this evening.’

  ‘Yes!’ her mother said grudgingly. ‘I’ll grant the gentleman that much. She must have been feeling better… Perhaps it’s as you say and all may yet turn out well for her, poor lass! Lord knows, she could do with a turn up in her fortunes after all she’s suffered.’

  ‘Oh, Mother, you are right. To be widowed so young…’


  ‘That, my girl, was a blessing!’ Bess said firmly. ‘That ain’t what I meant at all. I’ve watched the mistress fading away before my eyes long before yon Firle was killed.’

  ‘You never liked him, did you?’

  ‘I did not! To my way of thinking, handsome is as handsome does. That so-called gentleman was a liar and a cheat. What did he want, I wonder? He had a beautiful wife and a healthy boy, and he paid no heed to either of them.’

  ‘That doesn’t make him a liar and a cheat.’

  ‘No…? Well…best that you don’t know the whole. I’ll tell you only that he kept a close watch on your father and myself. We were advised to turn a blind eye to anything untoward around this place at night.’

  Abby’s eyes grew round. ‘Free traders?’

  Her mother hushed her quickly. ‘Be quiet, you foolish creature! Carry on with your chatter and we are likely to get our throats cut!’

  Abby shrieked with fright.

  ‘Oh, get on with you! There is no danger now. For heaven’s sake, go to bed—’

  ‘I shan’t sleep!’ Abby wailed.

  ‘Stuff!’ her mother snorted. ‘As always, it will take a gunshot to waken you come morning. Now take your candle and get to your bed. Your father won’t be pleased to find you making a great goose of yourself.’

  ‘It won’t be the first time!’ Matthew was standing in the doorway. ‘What ails the girl, for heaven’s sake?’

  ‘Father, shall we be murdered in our beds?’ Abby was still quaking.

  ‘Lord, no! What gave you that idea? The place is locked and barred as usual.’

  ‘And Mr Hatton is still here?’

  ‘He is…if it is any comfort to you, and your brother sleeps here too. You have three men to guard you, you foolish creature.’

  Abby was satisfied at last, but when she left them Matthew turned to his wife.

  ‘What have you been saying to her?’ he demanded.

  ‘I warned her to keep a still tongue in her head, husband. Abby rattles on, as well you know.’

  ‘She can do no harm. We’ve kept our secrets to ourselves.’

  ‘Did you tell this Mr Hatton of our suspicions?’