The Matchmaker's Rogue

by Regina Scott

  Jess blinked. They had made a full circuit of the room. Lark was standing directly ahead, arms crossed over his chest. Hester and his mother stood just a bit farther on, as if making sure they would not interrupt the conversation. Captain St. Claire released her arm and took her hand to bow over it.

  “Have a care, Miss Chance,” he said as he straightened. “Dark forces are afoot. We don’t need another Chance injured.” He stepped back and strode away.

  Lark took his place at her side. “Are you all right? What did he tell you?”

  Jess took his hand, needing to anchor herself in his strength for a moment. “He appeared to be trying to warn us to cease our questioning.”

  “Why?” Lark asked, gaze following the captain as he moved about the room, stopping to speak to this person, that couple. “Did he confess to some involvement in the smuggling?”

  “No. He said nothing tangible, but he changed when I mentioned Alex’s injuries. He didn’t know, Lark. I’m sure of it. If he were leading the smugglers, surely he’d have heard.”

  “If he’s this Lord of the Smugglers,” Lark said, “he could well have ordered the beating.”

  “No,” Jess said. “The news of the attack shook him. And he went so far as to request that my brother call on him. Again. As if Alex had made a habit of visiting him.”

  “I take it that surprises you,” Lark said.

  “A great deal. Maudie and I have both despaired of Alex since Father’s death. He seemed to have lost his way. We’d all expected him to become a physician, you see, but without a mentor under whom to apprentice, that dream died with Father. He’d certainly never attempt a call on someone of Captain St. Claire’s stature.”

  “Easy prey for smugglers,” Lark murmured. “Quick money, few skills required.”

  Jess shuddered. “Oh, Lark, I don’t want it to be so.”

  “It’s not too late,” he assured her. “Your brother is young. If he has helped these miscreants, we may be able to convince the magistrate to be lenient, if Alex testifies against them.”

  Jess swallowed, mouth dry. “How lenient?”

  His face looked as bleak as she felt. “Transportation instead of hanging.”

  The walls seemed to be folding in around her. “So, Quillan St. Claire was right. By helping you, I’ve not only endangered my position, but my brother’s life.”

  ~~~

  On the far side of the assembly rooms, James Howland nodded politely to Quill. Having finished a dance with Mrs. Greer and promenading with Miss Chance, his old friend had finally deigned to come within conversation distance. James had not been about to single him out. It would only have fueled the gossip that was hurling itself around the columned space.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked now.

  “Good evening, Magistrate,” Quill responded with a nod to the two ladies who were passing. They giggled. Quill smiled. As soon as they were out of earshot, he moved closer.

  “I thought perhaps a word of warning might suffice to quiet speculations,” he said, putting his back to the wall.

  James snorted. “You’ve only fanned the flames. Every gaze in the room is on you.”

  “Well, perhaps not every,” Quill said with that infuriating smile.

  “Do you take nothing seriously?” James demanded.

  He eyed him. “The same matters you do. And smile. This is an assembly. We are enjoying ourselves.”

  James pasted on a smile that the muscles of his face protested. “You’ve wasted your time in any regard. I doubt Larkin Denby takes well to warnings.”

  “The very reason I warned Jesslyn Chance instead.”

  “Did that help?” James asked.

  “Likely not,” Quill admitted, shoulders braced against the pale walls and hands going to the pockets of his breeches. “But I learned something. Did you know Alex Chance was beaten?”

  James stiffened. “No. When? Why?”

  Quill’s face hardened, but at the dark deed or James’s questions, he wasn’t sure. “Sunday night. And his sister believes the smugglers sailing out of Grace Cove to be responsible.”

  James thumped back against the wall. “That can’t be right.”

  “I promise you it isn’t right,” Quill said. “This is the first I’ve heard of it. And losing Alex makes me a man down.”

  “Then it seems we must allow Miss Chance and Mr. Denby to continue their investigation,” James said.

  “And hope they bring us answers,” Quill agreed. “Too much is at stake to do otherwise.”

  ~~~

  Lark’s mother and Hester were waiting just down the wall for him; Rosemary was finishing a dance and would likely reappear at his side to demand explanations. Yet Lark could not move without attempting to erase the pain that radiated out of Jess.

  “I would not endanger you or your family for the world,” he told her, holding her hand in his. Even through the gloves, her fingers felt cold, stiff. “If you want to leave the investigating to me, I will understand.”

  “The risk is greater than I knew,” she acknowledged. “But how can I step away? These smugglers harm the people I love.”

  “And you are a staunch defender of all three. I see that. May I not have the honor of defending you?”

  Her lips trembled. “No one has ever offered that before.”

  He glanced at his mother. Rosemary had indeed rejoined her and Hester. His mother and Hester were trying to appear as if they didn’t notice him. Rosemary’s hem rose and fell with her tapping foot.

  He returned his gaze to Jess and stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. “I might have, had I realized what the future held. I came to Grace-by-the-Sea determined to make a difference in this war by safeguarding our shores. I found something more. I found camaraderie.” He met her gaze. “I found you again.”

  The blue deepened, softened, and it would have been all too easy to bend his head and kiss her. But that would make a declaration he couldn’t make. Yet.

  “I am coming to care for you, Jess,” he murmured. “Give me time to see this all settled, and we’ll talk.”

  She nodded, then she tipped her head toward his waiting family. “You promised to talk to them as well.”

  He released her. “And that, alas, I can delay no longer. Do you need any help tonight?”

  She smiled. “No. I’ll be fine. But I will hope for your escort home.”

  He bowed over her hand. “Count on it.”

  She slipped away to return to her duties. He turned for the wall.

  “So, marriage, is it?” Rosemary greeted him.

  “Pay no attention to her,” Hester said, stepping forward to enfold him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again, Brother.”

  Guilt poked him in the back as he disengaged. “And you all as well. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I would be in the area. It was a sudden assignment.”

  His mother sent Rosemary a look. “So, you are here on behalf of the Excise Office.”

  Lark took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Yes, but the fewer who know of that, the better.”

  His mother paled. “You still blame your father’s profession for his death?”

  “And so do I,” Rosemary put in. She turned to Lark. “That’s why I wish you’d found some other work that interested you.”

  “Serving England is nothing to be ashamed of,” Hester said quietly, and he thought she must be remembering her late husband.

  “Indeed, it isn’t,” Lark replied. “But it’s easier to catch smugglers if they don’t know you’re after them.”

  His mother sucked in a breath. “Smugglers, in Grace-by-the-Sea?”

  “Why not?” Rosemary asked. “They’re everywhere along the coast.”

  For once, he could not argue with his pessimistic sister. “Very likely, these days. But there are those working to oppose them.” He looked from face to face, each more worn than he remembered, and guilt dug in its claws again.

  “I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.
As soon as this assignment ends, I’ll make time to come see you. I promise.”

  His mother’s smile was fleeting, but hopeful. “I will look forward to that.”

  Rosemary edged closer, gaze darting about the assembly hall. “So, who do you suspect?”

  Lark chuckled. “I should probably ask you that question. You always were better at reconnaissance than I was.”

  “And is that something to praise?” Hester asked primly.

  Rosemary didn’t so much as spare her older sister a glance. “I suspect Captain St. Claire, of course.”

  “Of course,” Lark agreed.

  “And that chap he was talking with, the magistrate.”

  Lark’s brows went up. “James Howland? Why?”

  Rosemary cocked her head in obvious thought. “A magistrate is in a position to know about, and hide, any number of things.”

  “Rosemary,” their mother scolded. “What an unkind thing to say. Why, I’ve only heard the best things about Mr. Howland.”

  “Fair, kind, considerate,” Hester agreed. “And terribly conscientious.”

  “Perfect way to cover his crimes,” Rosemary insisted.

  Lark held up a hand. “Peace. My thoughts match Rosemary’s.”

  His youngest sister raised her chin.

  “But I have no proof and nothing specific on which to base my theory,” he continued. “And there are others who might be involved. Miss Chance is assisting me in looking deeper into the matter.”

  “Oh,” Rosemary said knowingly, “is that all.”

  “Rosemary.” His mother sighed in exasperation before turning to him. “Larkin, I recall your friendship with Miss Chance when we visited the spa years ago. She was a sweet-natured, bright young lady then. That hasn’t changed.”

  “And she’s been so kind to keep up the acquaintance all these years,” Hester added. “She sends us invitations to the assembly every summer.”

  “She always remembers my birthday with a note,” his mother said with a fond smile.

  “Mine too,” Rosemary admitted. “You obviously made an impression on her.”

  “One she has not forgotten,” Hester agreed.

  Lark looked to where Jess was speaking with Mr. Crabapple. By the way his head was bobbing, she was giving him more advice on winning his dear love. Mrs. Harding was out on the floor, dancing with one of the young militia officers.

  “In truth,” he said, “I haven’t forgotten her either. But things are more complicated now. I go where I’m needed. She is loyal to the village and her spa.”

  “That could change,” Hester predicted. “A wife goes where her husband takes her.”

  “Only if she can’t convince him otherwise,” Rosemary said.

  Lark nodded, but he could not shake the idea. Could he make Grace-by-the-Sea his home? He’d be close to his family. And he could court Jess in earnest, win her heart, put down roots in the Dorset chalk.

  But would he be putting them all in danger?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  What an evening! First Lark’s mother and sisters had appeared and then Captain St. Claire had issued his dire warning. And Jess had thought assembly nights challenging as they were!

  She made sure to bid farewell to the Denby ladies as they left for the evening.

  “Again, our thanks for including us,” Hester said.

  “You are very welcome,” Jess assured her. “I hope you’ll come again this summer.”

  Rosemary looked to Lark, who was standing at Jess’s side. “So long as we have a reason.”

  His mother leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Be careful,” she murmured as she leaned back, gaze tearing again.

  Lark clasped her hand. “I will, Mother. And I’ll come see you soon.”

  With a nod, she led her daughters from the hall. There would be a convoy to Upper Grace tonight, escorted by the officers from West Creech.

  Lark kept his promise to Jess and walked her home. Voices called goodnight here and there as other members of Grace-by-the-Sea reached their own homes. Mr. Drummond, the lamplighter, was carrying his lantern for Mrs. Harding and Mr. Crabapple as they strolled for Shell Cottage. The golden light brightened the street toward the cove, allowing her to see the number of times Lark checked the headland and the castle.

  “All dark tonight,” Jess noted.

  He chuckled. “Caught me looking, did you? You’re right. There’s no light tonight. Perhaps the smugglers have moved on.”

  She wished she could believe that.

  Mr. Drummond’s lantern faded as they reached the cove. The moon had flashed in and out among wispy clouds, peppering the waves with light and shadow. A cool breeze blew away the rest of her fatigue. She was walking in the moonlight with a man she admired. She let herself simply enjoy the moment.

  Lark stopped at the shore path, head turned as if he listened for the waves. “I’ve been thinking about the future.”

  “Me too,” she admitted.

  “If we catch these smugglers,” he started.

  “When we catch them,” she corrected him.

  He lay his hand over hers on his arm. “When we catch them, I may return to Kent. Or I could be reassigned somewhere else. So, I’m not sure of my situation.”

  She’d known that, but hearing it stated so clearly was hard. “Must be difficult,” she murmured. “Being always ready to leave.”

  He shrugged. “It hasn’t bothered me in the past. Now…”

  “Now?” Jess encouraged him.

  In the darkness, she could just make out his face as he watched her. “Now I am sure of only one thing. I don’t want to lose you, Jess.”

  Warmth pushed up inside her. “I don’t want to lose you either, Lark.”

  He leaned toward her, and she met him halfway. His lips caressed hers, gently, sweetly, and she wanted to float in the feeling, let it carry her where concerns were forgotten.

  He straightened far too soon for her. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. We can determine our next steps together.”

  “Together,” she promised. She didn’t feel the path as she wandered to the cottage.

  Alex and Maudie were seated at the table, playing cards, as she entered. The pile of pasteboard in front of her aunt told her who was winning.

  “Alex, I’m glad to see you up,” Jess said, the issues of the day settling back onto her shoulders like snow fallen off the roof.

  “Can’t keep a Chance down,” he joked with his usual spirit. He laid out a card, then swept in the trick. Maudie pouted.

  Her aunt turned to her as Alex dealt the next hand. “At least tell me something interesting happened at the assembly,” she begged. “Trolls cavorting on the supper table? Gentlemen dueling over dances?”

  Lark and Quillan St. Claire came immediately to mind. “Alas,” Jess said, moving to join them, “nothing so dramatic. However, Captain St. Claire made an appearance.”

  She was watching for it, otherwise she might have missed the way her brother dropped his gaze and wiggled on the bench as if it had grown harder.

  Maudie’s eyes lit. “Oh, ho! Is he still as handsome as midnight? Did his injury cause him to limp? Did he dance with every lady in attendance?”

  “He was handsome enough,” Jess allowed. “I noticed no limp. And he only danced with Mrs. Greer, that I noticed. But he asked to be remembered to you, Alex, and to tell you to call on him. Again.”

  Maudie’s gaze flew to her nephew. “Again! Do you mean to tell me you’re on speaking terms with Quillan St. Claire, the pirate king, and you never invited me along?”

  Alex grimaced, laying down his cards, backs up. “All I did was renew an old acquaintance of Father’s, Aunt. I’m sure you would have found the conversation boring.”

  His ears twitched.

  Maudie humphed and clutched her cards closer.

  Jess kept her tone calm with an effort. “I doubt any conversation with Captain St. Claire would be boring,” she said. “In any event, he seemed surprised to
hear you had been hurt and rather concerned about the matter.”

  Alex ducked his head. “I’ll call on him as soon as I feel up to it. Please excuse me now. I must have overexerted myself.” He swung his legs off the bench and climbed unsteadily to his feet. Jess had to hold herself still to keep from going to him.

  “Is Quillan St. Claire involved in smuggling?” she asked.

  His gaze leaped to hers, eyes wide. “No! I swear it! But that’s all I’ll say about the matter.” He turned and stumped for the bedchamber, shutting the door soundly behind him.

  “Another story,” Maudie complained. Then she reached across the table and peeked at Alex’s forgotten cards.

  Would that it were so easy to dismiss her brother’s words. But she couldn’t make him tell her what was going on. Yet how could she protect him when she felt utterly in the dark?

  The morning brought Jess little respite from her concerns. But Alex was doing well enough she felt comfortable bringing Maudie with her to the spa. Once more her spirits dipped when she didn’t find Lark at the door before her. She had barely started the fountain and arranged the glasses when Abigail came in. Her friend tended to do things quickly, to speak in a rush, but this time she flew to Jess’s side, her blue skirts belling.

  “Jess! You must come. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  Of her guests, only Lord Featherstone and Mrs. Cole and her daughter were in attendance. They wandered closer.

  “What is it, Abigail?” Jess asked. “What’s happened?”

  Abby paused as if surprised to find herself the center of attention, then she squared her shoulders resolutely.

  “It’s that recruiting agent. He’s posted a list on the very door of the church, naming every man who he intends to conscript.”

  Mrs. Cole pressed a hand to her chest. “Conscript?”

  “Into the army,” Abby confirmed. “They’ll have to leave Grace-by-the-Sea, march away to some foreign shore.”

  “Well, perhaps not march,” Lord Featherstone put in with a kind look to Jess.