The Matchmaker's Rogue

by Regina Scott

He accepted the glass from her. “I received a note to come quietly, without anyone seeing me,” he murmured. “But must I drink this?”

  “If you wish to keep up pretenses, yes,” Jess whispered back.

  He bravely slugged back a gulp. By the twitch of his cheek, he was trying not to react.

  “There,” Jess said aloud. “You’ll be feeling better any moment.”

  He leaned toward her. “Why the secrecy? If you wished to speak to me privately, you could have come by the office.”

  Jess batted her lashes, as if he’d said something charming. “The smuggler who kidnapped my brother last night might disagree. Henry Bascom promised nasty consequences should anyone stop him and his henchmen from bringing their cargo through Grace-by-the-Sea tonight.”

  The glass slipped from the magistrate’s hand. Jess caught it before it fell.

  “Your brother was in the caves last night?” he asked, leaning toward her.

  Jess kept her smile pleasant. “You are misinformed, Magistrate. I believe Alex and his friend have been sailing into the caves for fun. These smugglers have a more nefarious bent, and Henry Bascom appears to be leading them.” She couldn’t help a roll of her eyes. “Some Lord of the Smugglers.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Howland said darkly. “And you say he plans to return tonight?”

  She nodded. “At lowest tide.”

  “Just after midnight, then,” he murmured. “Not enough time to ride to Weymouth for help.”

  “No,” she said. “We are on our own.”

  He eyed her. “Something tells me you have a strategy in mind, Miss Chance.”

  “I live for strategy, Mr. Howland. At least, I did.” Despite her best efforts, her smile slipped. “You may have heard the other news from last night. The Council has hired a physician. He will be here within the fortnight, and I and my family are to vacate the spa and the cottage for him.”

  He raised his brows. “Now, that is a tactical error. I doubt this spa will function without someone of your talents, Miss Chance.”

  “You will shortly have an opportunity to find out,” Jess said. “But not before I have my brother back and our village safe. If you play your part, all will be well.”

  He snapped a nod. “What would you have me do?”

  Jess glanced up as the door of the spa opened. Mrs. Cole began fussing with her hair, and her daughter darted away from Mrs. Harding to put herself in the path of their latest guest.

  Captain St. Claire bowed over her hand and held it sufficiently long that Miss Cole blushed, and her mother descended upon them to clear her throat. He released her with another bow and made for Jess’s side.

  “I believe you wished a moment of my time, Miss Chance,” he said with a frown of puzzlement to the magistrate.

  “Captain St. Claire,” Jess said. “A true pleasure. I’m sorry to have kept you from your appointment with the magistrate. If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll explain to you both exactly what you can do for the spa, the village, and our nation.”

  ~~~

  Lark made better time returning to Grace-by-the-Sea than leaving it. He wasn’t surprised. Every inch of him was eager to tell Jess what had happened, to reassure her that Alex was safe from conscription or impressment. And to tell her how much she had come to mean to him. Surely if she knew he planned to stay in Grace-by-the-Sea she would be willing to consider a true courtship.

  He had his horse stabled at the Mermaid and was climbing the hill to the spa by half past two. Mr. Inchley, the grocer, nodded at him from the window of his shop and tapped a heavy finger to his nose, as if sharing a secret. Interesting. Mr. Carroll peered out of his door and offered him a salute. Lark nodded, interest changing to concern. Had his true profession become known? Then why the respect?

  Miss Archer came out of her shop to intercept him, smile bright. “Mr. Denby! I’m so delighted you could make it.”

  Lark calculated in his head. No, he hadn’t missed an assembly. It could only be Saturday. Was there some event planned at the spa today? Jess had mentioned a midsummer masquerade, but surely that was later in June.

  “Were you expecting me, Miss Archer?” he asked.

  She took his shoulders and turned him up the hill. “No, but Jesslyn is. Now, hurry! You mustn’t let her down.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lark said, bemused.

  He strode up the hill for the spa. He half expected to find things in shambles again. Had Miss Barlow countermanded Jess’s orders? Had Mr. Crabapple fallen into apoplexy over some slight from Mrs. Harding? Was Miss Cole inconsolable about the lack of eligible bachelors? It wasn’t as if he could be particularly helpful in any of those cases, but he would stand by Jess’s side, come what may.

  But everything looked as pleasant as usual when he entered the spa. Mrs. Tully was playing the harpsichord—a military march of all things. Lord Featherstone and the Admiral were engaged in a battle on the chessboard. Jess was at the welcome desk. She looked up as he came fully into the room and broke into a smile. He went straight to her side.

  “I returned as quickly as I could,” he told her. “Miss Archer seemed to think you needed me.”

  “Desperately,” Jess assured him, laying a hand on his arm and peering up at him with her big blue eyes. A fellow could lose himself in that look. Or find himself again.

  “Anything,” Lark said. Funny how that word was so easy with her.

  Her smile turned tremulous. “You may change your mind when you hear what I have to say. Mr. Howland questioned my plan. He said it verged on anarchy.”

  Lark raised his brows. “Anarchy? You’re the spa hostess. What did you suggest? Dispensing melted chocolate instead of mineral water?”

  “Worse,” she said. “I have it on good authority that the smugglers you’ve been seeking will bring their cargo through Grace-by-the-Sea tonight. They’re holding my brother hostage against my silence and your good behavior. I propose to confront them at the shore, take my brother back, and stop them from ever returning to our village.”

  Lark stared at her. This was the peaceful, gentle, ladylike hostess of the spa, calm, cordial, composed. This was the woman he loved.

  “Well,” he allowed with a grin, “it should be an interesting evening.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You needn’t have warned her that strongly,” Quillan St. Claire said, leaning against the mantel in James’ office that afternoon.

  They had parted after leaving the spa, but Quill had found his way to the office now. Neither had spoken about Miss Chance’s audacious plan until they were safely behind closed doors.

  James eyed him from his place at the desk. “You know my position. Between my family and you, I’m hemmed in nicely. I cannot disobey the earl without risking my mother’s future, and I cannot betray your activities and still call myself an Englishman.”

  Quill pushed away from the hearth. “My activities have nothing to do with this. And I’ll be hard-pressed to find another man more willing and able than Alexander Chance.” His face hardened. “He’s a good lad, James. He doesn’t deserve this. You know it.”

  “I know it,” James allowed, feeling his gut tighten. “And I don’t like what’s happened any more than you do. But Denby already suspects me of being part of this band of smugglers.”

  He shrugged. “The light beckoning sailors is in your home.”

  “Castle How,” he said, “has never been my home. And you might have considered that before putting up that ridiculous light.”

  Quill frowned. “I thought it was you putting up the light.”

  James stared at him. “It wasn’t you?”

  Quill shook his head. “No. I swear to you.”

  James closed his eyes. “Then someone else has been using the castle.” He sighed and opened his eyes. “I’ll have to discover the culprit and soon.”

  “After we route the smugglers, old man,” Quill suggested. “You needn’t feel compelled to fall in line with Miss Chance’s mad urgings. Summon
the men of the village, charter a militia. They’ll follow you. And, by chartering a militia, you save us all from conscription.”

  James leaned back in his chair. “I wish I could. But the earl refused to consider it. I’ve written to him twice with various arguments. I event went up to see him, but he left me to cool my heels.”

  His frustration must have been showing, for Quill raised a brow. “And he cares nothing about the village being overrun by criminals?”

  James snorted. “The earl couldn’t care less what happens in Grace-by-the-Sea, so long as he profits. It wouldn’t surprise me if he and Lord Peverell weren’t two of this bands customers.”

  “Then they can rot.” Quill started for the door. “Your hands may be tied, but I plan to help Miss Chance all I can.” He paused and glanced back at James, gaze merry. “And good luck locking me up for it.”

  He was out the door before James could call him back. But his words seemed to echo in the prison of a room his august family had so tastefully decorated for him.

  ~~~

  One by one, the spa guests left for the day, until only Lark remained. Miss Barlow and her mother had made their farewells, and Jess could not be sorry that they were leaving in the morning. She straightened the Grand Pump Room, collected Maudie, and secured the door. As Lark escorted her and Maudie home through the village, shops were shuttered, and their neighbors hurried inside. The cottage felt empty without Alex waiting to greet them.

  “Cutlasses, daggers, pistols, and quarterstaffs,” Maudie muttered, sliding into the seat of her rocking chair. “They’ll be well-armed tonight. Smugglers always are.”

  “So I would imagine,” Jess said. Though it was still hours to midnight, she could not sit. She paced from the hearth to the door and back. Lark met Jess at the foot of the table and put his arms about her, holding her gently.

  “Everyone I met agreed with our plan,” he reminded her.

  “Except Magistrate Howland,” she said. “And I cannot fully understand why.”

  “Howlands look after themselves,” Maudie said, setting her chair to rocking. The quiet creak would once have soothed Jess. Now it played on her nerves as if they were the keys of a harpsichord.

  “I’d be fine with that,” Lark told her, “so long as he stayed out of our way.”

  “He made sure I knew I could be prosecuted if we caused a disturbance,” Jess informed him. “What does he call an invasion? These smugglers are the criminals, not us. If anything happens to Alex…”

  “We will save him,” Lark promised.

  They must. Anything else was unthinkable.

  Dark seemed a long time coming. The tide took forever to recede. Lark seated himself at the table, beckoned Jess to join him. The bench had never felt harder.

  “It ends tonight,” he told her, slipping an arm about her shoulders.

  She allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. “I never thought it would come to this. Smugglers, in Grace-by-the-Sea?”

  His shoulder rubbed against her hair as he shrugged. “There’s a reason people don’t look out their windows after dark in some villages.”

  “No one wants to indict a neighbor, a friend,” she realized. “Or a brother.”

  He shifted, and she raised her head to meet his gaze. “Sorry, Lark. I didn’t want to remind you of your father.”

  “A smuggler too, was he?” Maudie asked, pausing in her rocking.

  “No,” Lark assured her. “A Riding Officer, like me. But he couldn’t look the other way, and I won’t either.”

  “Good for you,” Maudie said, setting her chair to moving at an even faster clip. “Whatever your position, do it to the best of your ability. My father and brother always said that.”

  He gave Jess a squeeze. “And that’s one of the reasons they cannot do without Jess at the spa.”

  In all the trouble, she’d forgotten to tell Maudie. “They can do without me,” she said, glancing at her aunt. “I’ve been excused from my position.”

  “I knew they’d want an older woman,” her aunt said, hitching up her shawl. “Never fear. I’ll make you my assistant.”

  She smiled for Maudie’s sake. “They have no need for anyone from our family, Aunt. The new physician accepted their offer. He wants to run the spa. And, as he will need somewhere to live, we are to vacate the cottage for him as well.”

  Lark’s arm tightened protectively about her. “They had the temerity to throw you out?”

  “I won’t go,” her aunt said.

  “Yes, Aunt, you will,” Jess said. “Where, I don’t know yet.”

  Someone knocked at the door. Jess stiffened, but Lark rose to answer it. He let in Captain St. Claire. Gone was the gold-braided dress uniform of a naval officer. He wore a loose black coat and trousers and had pulled a black felt hat low over his dark hair. A bandolier of pistols was slung about his chest, a cutlass sat in the sheath on his belt, and the hilt of a dagger stuck out of one of his tall boots. She could almost believe him the pirate her aunt had named him.

  “Mrs. Tully, Miss Chance,” he greeted them with a nod. “No reason for concern. We’ll have young Alex back in no time.”

  So Jess could only hope.

  They extinguished all light, banked the fire to a glow, and took turns watching out the window for movement on the water. Jess’s fingers wrapped around Lark’s, held tight. He slipped his free arm about her shoulders, his smile encouraging.

  “Hst!” Maudie jerked her head toward the darkness outside. “Someone’s there, and I don’t think it’s a mermaid.”

  The captain stood. “It’s time. Stay behind me while I speak to them.”

  Lark stepped forward. “Not tonight, St. Claire.”

  The naval officer eyed him. “You think you can handle this, a Newcomer to Grace-by-the-Sea?”

  “He’s not a Newcomer,” Maudie said. “He’s family.”

  Jess’s heart swelled. “Yes, yes, he is.”

  Lark bowed to Maudie. “Thank you, Aunt.” Then he looked to St. Claire. “And to answer your question, I have no expectation of leading us tonight. I yield to the superior authority of all things in Grace-by-the-Sea, Jesslyn Chance.”

  ~~~

  The cove was dark as the smugglers rowed in. The village was dark as well, the only light shining from the upper windows of the Mermaid where a few hardy souls must have been preparing for bed. Even the moon had gone into hiding. A breeze blew fitfully out to sea. The waves whispered against the shore.

  The longboats cut through the water, ground onto the shore. Wagons creaked as they rolled down High Street, driven by men who would take the cargo inland. Still nothing else moved on the shore. The rowers began unloading casks, boxes, piling them at the foot of High Street to be divided by destination.

  Henry Bascom pushed Alex forward, until they both stood on the shore path.

  “Funny,” he said, glancing around. “I thought that sister of yours would be waiting for us, wringing her hands.”

  “I make it a practice never to wring my hands, Mr. Bascom,” Jess said, stepping out of the shadow of a shed. She had the satisfaction of seeing the fisherman start.

  “I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain,” she continued. “Give me my brother.”

  She thought he might argue, but he let go of Alex and shoved him toward her. “Take him, then. I suppose there’s no point keeping him. We’re just about done here.”

  They were indeed, far faster than she’d expected. If she could just get Alex away… She held out her hand, and her brother stumbled toward her.

  “Just you remember,” Bascom warned. “This lot means business. Best not to cross them.”

  “You will find, sir, that I mean business too.” She grabbed Alex’s hand and yanked him out of reach. Maudie caught them both close as they ducked into the shadows.

  And chaos ensued.

  Mr. Carroll darted up to where the crates lay stacked, snatched up one, and disappeared behind the Mermaid.

  “Hey!” a smuggler shout
ed, breaking away to give chase.

  Lord Featherstone walked up and seized another, only to vanish behind a shed. Before another smuggler could take off after him, Abigail, clad in breeches and long coat, swooped in from the other side and made off with a third. When one of the smugglers attempted to follow, he ran smack into the Admiral and landed on his rump on the street.

  “Impolite, sir!” Admiral Walsey thundered, brandishing his walking stick.

  The other smugglers attempted to rally, but like gulls, Mrs. Harding, Mr. Crabapple, Mr. Lawrence, and her other neighbors dived and dipped, plucking treasure from the pile, sometimes from the very arms of the smugglers. Their unwanted visitors bumped into each other trying to stop them. Shouts rang out, a pistol flared.

  Henry Bascom ran into the fray. “Don’t shoot! Dead bodies bring the Preventers!”

  “So do live smugglers,” Lark declared, bearing down on them with Captain St. Claire at his side.

  Fists flew. Cargo fell and broke open. Champagne bottles rolled for the water. The smugglers bunched together, backs to each other and gazes darting about.

  “Now can I shoot?” one of them begged.

  “Enough!” A musket roared before the command had finished echoing. Gazes shot up High Street, and everyone froze. The moon came out from the clouds to shine on muskets and cutlasses. Then a lantern brightened the night, held high on the pole of Mr. Drummond. Next to him, Mr. Howland sat on his horse, men on either side.

  “I told you there was something about a red coat,” Maudie reminded Jess.

  The Grace-by-the-Sea militia, formed that very night it seemed, had only a single red coat among them, and Mr. Greer was wearing it. But they marched smartly down the street. Shutters opened, flooding the way with light. Voices called encouragement, shouted in the name of honor, of decency.

  Three of the smugglers broke for the water. The rest held up their hands in surrender. Lark and Captain St. Claire went after the runaways.

  Jess sagged against her brother and aunt. “We did it.”

  “And without a single troll,” Maudie marveled.