by Regina Scott
“Send for them,” Wynn said, and she hurried for the bell pull. “But we’ll need more, and we don’t have time to alert the village, if indeed they would help against what might be some of their own.”
Lady Rollings was rubbing her hands back and forth. He wasn’t sure she even recognized the nervous gesture.
“Then where can we find more men?” she asked.
“I intend to fabricate them,” Wynn told her. “From each of you.”
She stared at him.
Ariadne clapped her hands. “Brilliant! Men have been playing women in the theatre since Shakespeare’s time. Why not the other way around?”
“Scandalous,” Lady Minerva declared. “Count me in.”
“No,” Lady Rollings said. “There must be another way.”
“Really, Mother,” Ariadne scolded. “Can you not bend propriety this once?”
“Propriety is not what concerns me,” she informed her. “I already have one daughter in harm’s way. Do not ask me to risk another.”
Ariadne’s look softened.
“There should be little risk, so long as we follow the plan,” Wynn promised.
“And what is this plan?” Lady Rollings demanded. “Do you intend to arm us? Lead us into battle?”
“The armory is full of weapons,” Ariadne mused. “I’ve always wanted to try a mace.”
Her mother paled.
“No one need fight,” Wynn assured her. “We merely have to appear to be an army to frighten off the smugglers.”
They all looked to Lady Rollings, who closed her mouth and nodded. With a squeal of delight, Ariadne led the others up the stairs to raid their betrotheds’ wardrobe.
“Mr. Fairfax,” Lady Rollings said, stopping him from heading to the armory to select the weapons they needed.
“Your ladyship?” Wynn asked, almost afraid to hear what she had to say.
Her face was set, her mouth tight. “I have made no secret of the fact that I do not consider you a suitable match for my daughter. We had hoped for a title for her.”
Wynn inclined his head. “I know, your ladyship.”
She bit her lower lip, and all at once he saw the resemblance to Daphne. Tears darkened her blue eyes.
“Bring her home to me,” she said, “and I will waive all objections. My daughter needs a hero, and I can think of no one more likely than you to play the role.”
*
At the hermit’s hut, Daphne eased open the trap door and peered out. Night had fallen since she’d been imprisoned. The moonlight showed that the way to Brentfield Manor was not as clear as Brooks had claimed. A wagon and team stood ready to take the last of the materials away, with one man at the reins and three more positioning goods. Very likely as soon as they finished, they’d be heading in her direction.
She puffed out a breath. “Still too many,” she told Brooks, who was standing so close behind her she could smell the lavender in his cologne. “How exactly did you plan to help me escape?”
“With considerably less difficulty,” he assured her, leaning past her to peer out as well. “Perhaps if we wait a while longer.”
“And have them come back for the rest?” Daphne shook her head. Her hair must have brushed his nose, for he stifled a sneeze.
One of the smugglers glanced back at the hut. Daphne ducked out of sight.
“Is there no other way out of here?” she asked her so-called rescuer.
“The wall at the back of this room is supposed to swivel and give access to a tunnel under Brentfield Manor,” he murmured, gaze darting about the clearing as he too must have looked for an alternative, “but the mechanism is broken.”
“Then we’re trapped.” Daphne broke away from him to drop back into the room. Her legs took her about the space, from the crate where she had been tied, to the wall behind it and the barrel standing on the opposite side. She spotted no egress and few possibilities for weapons.
“What are you doing?” Brooks demanded.
“Thinking,” Daphne told him. “Now do hush.”
His face darkened.
She ignored him. Really, Wynn would have been so much more use. He always knew what to say to set her mind in motion. She could almost hear him now.
“Lay down your weapons and surrender, and it will go easier on you.”
Wait—was that really Wynn?
She rushed back to the door and pushed Brooks aside to look out again. In the clearing, the smugglers had frozen in their places, while on the slope to Brentfield Manor stood Wynn. He bore a flaming torch in one hand, a long sword in the other. The light reflected off his spectacles, making it appear that his gaze was as fiery as the torch.
Daphne started forward, and Brooks caught her arm. “He can’t take them all on alone.”
Daphne shook herself free. “Which is why we’re going to help him.”
Once more he seized her before she could move. “Think! They are armed. We’re not.”
There was that. But she wasn’t about to leave Wynn out there alone. There had to be something she could do.
“You have no chance to escape,” Wynn was calling. “We have you surrounded.”
As Daphne stared out, figures moved along the edges of the clearing. Moonlight flashed on swords, axes, the gilt of pistols. She could see the smugglers’ heads turning as they took in the numbers. Oh, but it was a masterful stroke by Lord Brentfield and the others.
Odd that he’d sent Wynn to speak for him, though. It was Lord Brentfield’s land, after all, and he was one of the highest-ranking persons in the area.
The smugglers conferred a moment, then held up their hands in surrender. As several of Lord Brentfield’s staff came forward to take them into custody, Daphne scrambled out of the hut.
“Wynn!” She ran to him, and he threw down the sword to hold her close.
“Daphne, tell me you are unharmed.”
“She is safe,” Brooks said behind her. “I saw to that.”
For all of a quarter hour, and she wouldn’t have been captured to begin with if she hadn’t gone to the hermit’s hut to meet him, but she decided now was not the time to go into all that.
“I’m fine,” she told Wynn. “Thank you for coming to rescue me.”
Wynn eyed Brooks, but he did not let Daphne out of the circle of his arms. “Everyone thought you were on your way to Gretna Green with him.”
“What!” Daphne swiveled to glare at Sheridan. “You know I never agreed to that.”
In the moonlight, she thought he flushed. “I am so sorry, Miss Courdebas. I had hopes we might elope together, and I instructed a local man to send word to your mother so she wouldn’t worry. Then when I saw you being kidnapped, I could not take the time to call him back, being intent on rescuing you.”
“For the last time,” Daphne said, “you did not rescue me!”
“No,” Ariadne said, moving up to join them. “We did.”
The servants were leading off the smugglers, and the rest of Wynn’s army was materializing out of the woods. Daphne stared at them. Ariadne, their mother, Hannah, Priscilla, Emily, and her aunt were dressed in breeches and greatcoats, tricorns or top hats perched on their hair, which was piled up underneath. Each carried a weapon of some sort, though only Lady Minerva looked completely comfortable with it. Indeed, she was fingering the shaft of the pike as if having every desire to take it like a parasol when next she promenaded through Hyde Park.
“What are you doing?” Daphne asked. “Where is Lord Brentfield, Sinclair, Sir James, and Mr. Kent?”
Wynn glanced at Brooks. “Chasing after you and Sheridan toward Wells.”
Brooks was too busy staring at the female soldiers to pay him any heed. “Ladies, you?”
Priscilla raised her chin. “Who else, Mr. Sheridan?”
“Do you find fault with our choice of weapons?” Emily asked, hand straying to the mechanism of her crossbow as if she wondered how fast the bolt might fly and where it would be best aimed.
He took a step bac
k.
That made way for Daphne’s mother, who came forward to enfold her in a hug. “Daphne. We were so worried.”
“So was I, for a bit,” Daphne admitted. She smiled over her mother’s shoulder at Wynn. “But I knew I could count on my friends to help.”
For some reason, Wynn was the only one who did not look pleased by the statement.
“We should get back to the house,” Hannah said. “It will be safer there should the other smugglers return. We can send someone to the village for the magistrate and another to the road to call back David and his valiant troop.”
Wynn nodded, glancing around as if he thought more smugglers might be hiding in the woods even then.
Daphne’s mother released her, then looked to Brooks. “You might begin composing what you will say by way of apology, Mr. Sheridan, for putting them all to such trouble. Walk beside me and let’s practice now.”
Put that way, he had no choice but to fall into step with Daphne’s mother and Hannah.
Ariadne and the others walked beside Daphne and Wynn instead.
“I don’t know how the gentlemen abide these,” Priscilla said, shaking back her greatcoat to reveal the embroidered waistcoat hugging her curves. “I far prefer the elegance of skirts and petticoats.”
“I cannot imagine how the actresses pull it off,” Ariadne agreed, straightening her tricorn and causing her hair to tumble free.
“I don’t know,” Daphne said. “I warrant it would be easier to ride. No more side saddle.”
“How shocking,” Ariadne teased.
“If you ask me, this entire evening has been shocking,” Lady Minerva said, striding past them with her too-big-boots clumping against the ground. “I can’t wait to tell the other dowagers. I’ll be dining out for a quarter year on this story.”
“I fear the story isn’t over yet,” Emily said.
“What do you mean?” Daphne asked. “Are you concerned the other smugglers will return before we can summon aid?”
“No,” she said. “I believe one never left. But I would feel better waiting for Lord Brentfield and Jamie to return before forcing him out into the open.”
Chapter Twenty
Wynn could not seem to settle. Daphne was whole and safe, the only result of her kidnapping an intense annoyance with Brooks Sheridan. That alone might be cause to rejoice. But he could not forget Lady Emily’s comment as they had returned to the house.
Mr. Harrop had not been among the smugglers they’d captured. Was he out in the woods still, or had he returned to the house, thinking no one the wiser for his treachery? Were they safe waiting for the others to return before unmasking the villain?
Most of the ladies willingly trooped upstairs to change out of their borrowed uniforms. Hannah had to convince Lady Minerva to join them. That left Sheridan, Wynn, and Daphne alone in the Blue Salon.
“I would ask whether you feel the need to recover from your ordeal,” Hannah had told Daphne before following the others. “But I know you too well to suppose you wish to retire.”
“Quite right,” Daphne had said with a smile.
“You have my utmost admiration for the way you handled yourself,” Sheridan said now. He and Wynn remained standing as Daphne prowled around the room like a caged lion. Wynn knew she moved to propel her marvelous mind, but he could only wonder what had her in such a stew at the moment.
She waved a hand at Sheridan’s statement. “It was nothing.”
Sheridan shook his head, draping one arm along the polished wood mantel. “On the contrary, your behavior was nothing short of courageous. Those were dangerous men, hardened, determined. They might have taken you out to the sea and dropped you over the side to prevent you from spilling their secrets.”
Wynn felt as if the dark waters were closing over him at the very thought.
Daphne paused in her pacing, dusty muslin skirts settling about her ankles. “Do you know, they did not seem so desperate to me? They simply went about their business, after they had bound and gagged and blindfolded me, of course.”
So they had been polite as they man-handled her. Wynn felt his anger burning.
Sheridan merely nodded. “They are probably local men. They would not want you to recognize them.”
“I wouldn’t have recognized them anyway,” Daphne said, resuming her pacing, a white blur past the blue furnishings. “I’m only here another few days, and I rarely visit the village.”And the smugglers must know that, the way they had been watching the house. Had they just practiced caution, as Sheridan had said, or was there another reason they had blindfolded Daphne?
The ladies started returning then, and they set about exclaiming over their adventure as they sat on the sofa and chairs. Sheridan went so far as to praise each of them for their part in Daphne’s rescue, but Wynn thought the Corinthian was merely trying to restore himself into their good graces after the mess he’d made.
Wynn positioned himself to catch Lady Emily as she entered and drew her aside.
“Daphne always said you could solve any mystery,” he murmured to her where they stood by the door. “So I’m not surprised you identified our culprit. Unfortunately, I don’t think we should wait until the gentlemen return before capturing him. I can fetch one of the male servants and take him in hand before anyone else is hurt.”
Lady Emily glanced to where the others were laughing at something Sheridan had said. “He will be formidable. His discovery will mean the end of the life he has led.”
“That’s true of all smugglers,” Wynn pointed out.
Emily turned her dark gaze on him. “Local people will likely take a more lenient view of the matter. Once Lord Brentfield presses charges, this fellow may be facing the gallows or deportation at the least.”
A chill went through him. “So you intend to allow him to escape?”
She made a face. “No, never that. I only wish I knew how much longer it will be before Jamie and the others return.”
“If they are riding as hard as I suspect,” Wynn told her, “they may have to rest the horses. They might spend the night at an inn and not return until morning.”
Her gaze narrowed. “In that case, all will be lost. He could easily slip away in the night.” She nodded, decision obviously made. “Fetch the servants, and I’ll confront him.”
*
Talk, talk, talk. Daphne stifled a yawn. After all the excitement of the evening, she felt as if she could slip into her bed and not wake for a fortnight. Everyone would forgive her if she excused herself, she knew. But surely she should stay up to thank Lord Brentfield for trying to help her, even though she had never been rushing off to elope.
Rushing off anywhere actually sounded rather good at the moment.
She loved her friends, but her mind was already wandering. She swung her leg under her skirts, earning her a frown from her mother. Young ladies were not supposed to fidget. But it was either fidget or fall asleep in her chair.
She fidgeted.
Besides, if there was talking to be done, she had only one partner of interest. She wasn’t sure what Emily and Wynn were discussing so avidly across the way, but she vowed as soon as he was free to tell him how she felt. That ought to keep anyone awake.
Emily nodded just then and started back to the group. When Wynn slipped out the door, Daphne was tempted to follow him, but she recognized the steely glint in her friend’s eyes. Emily was about to solve the mystery. Daphne’s declaration to Wynn would have to wait.
She straightened in her seat and elbowed Ariadne beside her, who broke off in mid-story.
“Hannah,” Emily said, coming to a stop beside the countess’s chair, “I believe we have completed the commission you gave us.”
Hannah looked up at her with a smile, warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Indeed you have. We now know that we have smugglers in the area, and they have been using the hermit’s hut to store stolen goods.”
“Though I’m still not clear how they were able to enter the house,” A
riadne put in. “It seems a key plot point.”
“There’s a large secret passage under the manor,” Hannah supplied. “David told me it ends with a door that leads out, I suspect all the way to that hut.”
“The back wall of the room under it, actually,” Daphne realized with a look to Brooks, who nodded in agreement. “But it’s stuck at the moment.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t stuck when the thief first used it,” Priscilla mused, tapping her chin with one elegant finger. “That’s why there have been no more thefts recently.”
“Except the dueling pistols,” Hannah reminded her. “But I can’t see why a smuggler would want those. Surely they have access to other weapons.”
“Smugglers must,” Emily said. “But a receiver might not.”
“A receiver?” Daphne’s mother asked with a frown.
Ariadne sat taller. “Yes, of course! There was an article in The Times just last month about the shocking boldness of smugglers. It’s all quite choreographed. An English boat puts out from the coast and meets a French boat somewhere in the middle of the Channel, avoiding the Customs Service as they do so. They exchange goods. Then the smugglers return home to secretly sell the items for considerably less than market value, with no customs paid.”
“Lace for the ladies, brandy for the gentlemen,” Priscilla agreed.
“Which is precisely the problem,” Emily told her. “Lace, brandy, champagne—it’s all consumed by the aristocracy. Many of those involved in the Free Trade are fishermen or farmers. They require a go-between to take their wares to the buyers in London. That’s the job of the receiver.”
Brooks stood. “Fascinating. But I fear I must beg your pardon, ladies. I am certain Lord Brentfield will no longer be amused by my presence. I should go pack my things so I can leave as soon as I apologize to him for the trouble I’ve caused.”
“Slinking off, are you?” Lady Minerva challenged.
Hannah held up her hand. “There is no need to leave until morning, Mr. Sheridan. We would not turn a guest out into the night.”