by Joyce Alec
Susanna pressed her lips together, seeing just how ill Mr. Taylor appeared and worrying for his recovery.
“I am sure he will recover,” Lord Knightsbridge said in her ear, taking her elbow and pulling her away gently. “Taylor needs to rest. He has endured a great deal and been without food for some time. That is all.”
“He cannot help us any more than he has already,” Susanna said, throwing a glance back toward the ill man. “He must be allowed to recover.”
“I quite agree,” Lord Knightsbridge stated. “But I fear that you also have done more than enough, Miss Millerton.” His eyes searched her face, his hand still on her arm. “Your courage and determination to help Taylor is admirable, Miss Millerton, but I do not want Mr. Easthill to be suspicious of you.”
Susanna’s stomach tightened. “I fear he may already be,” she said with a small shrug. “He will, no doubt, be very upset that the document and Taylor are both gone, and whilst I must hope that he believes that Mr. Taylor managed to escape of his own accord, he may enquire as to whether or not any of the ladies were within the house whilst the gentlemen were out for the afternoon.”
“In which case, he will know that you were the one to remain indoors for a time,” Lord Knightsbridge finished, looking a little worried.
“Besides which,” Susanna added, glancing back at Mr. Taylor and seeing that his eyes were tightly closed, his chest rising and falling steadily, “I must tell you that I have no intention of stepping away from you in this matter, Lord Knightsbridge. In fact, I shall do all I can to help bring this matter to a close. For then not only shall I be free of it, but you also. And that means a great deal to me.”
Without meaning to, Susanna had moved closer to Lord Knightsbridge and now found herself so close to him that she had to tilt her head back to look up into his eyes. Lord Knightsbridge’s hand was still on her arm and as she looked up at him, his other hand came toward hers, taking it in his own. Something was growing between them, Susanna knew, something that she dared not even believe, and yet with every breath she took, she felt herself yearning to draw even closer to Lord Knightsbridge.
“You are a remarkable creature,” Lord Knightsbridge said, his voice husky. “And not only that, you have such a kindness in your heart that I am overwhelmed by it. You have endured such a struggle and within your own anguish found the courage to speak to me of it, even though you could not know for certain what I would do in return.” He shook his head gently, as though he could not yet quite believe all that had happened in such a short space of time. “Your beauty catches my eye no matter where I might be,” he told her, making Susanna blush furiously. “I do not wish to bring our acquaintance to an end, Miss Millerton. Rather, I want to further it.”
Her heart beat so furiously that Susanna was quite certain he could hear it, but she dared not speak. She wanted him to continue speaking, to tell her all that was on his mind.
“I should like to call upon you and your father, once this entire business is at an end, Miss Millerton,” he murmured, stepping a fraction closer so that barely any distance separated them. “My heart, I fear, will not beat without you next to me.”
Susanna caught her breath at the hope in his eyes. “Nor mine,” she whispered, daring to press one hand lightly against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart underneath her fingertips. The anticipation she felt rising within her was encouraging her to do something she had never once considered before. Her whole body was burning with heat and yet her mouth was dry, her lips parched.
“Then you would allow me to speak to your father?” he asked, his fingers now running gently down her cheek and down the curve of her throat, leaving a trail of fire as they went. “You would accept me?”
Susanna moved before she knew what she was doing. Her mouth sought his, even though she had never done such a thing before. Lord Knightsbridge met her in eager expectation, his hands around her waist as he held her tight against him. Her fingers were in his hair, shock and excitement running in spirals all through her.
And then there came a scratch at the door.
Flushed and a little embarrassed, Susanna felt Lord Knightsbridge drop his hands at once and she stepped back out of his embrace. Her face was hot and she did not know what to do with herself, turning away and lowering her head so that her curls hid her face somewhat.
Rather than call for whoever it was to come in, Lord Knightsbridge went to the door. “Yes?”
Susanna waited until he had finished speaking, relieved when the door was closed.
“My mother wishes me to speak to her in the parlor about this evening,” Lord Knightsbridge said, not hesitating but rather coming close to her and reaching for her hand. “Are you all right, Susanna?”
It was the first time he had spoken her Christian name and the significance of it was not lost on Susanna. Pleased but still a little flushed, she nodded, making herself look up into his face. “I am very well.”
“Good.” His smile was playful and yet there was a burning happiness in his eyes. “I should go to her at once.”
“And I should change,” Susanna replied, making for the door. “Will Mr. Taylor be quite all right?”
Lord Knightsbridge nodded. “A footman will wait with him until I return.”
“And the ball?”
For a few moments, Lord Knightsbridge did not say a word. Then, finally, he spread his hands. “I am not quite certain what to do as yet, Susanna. I believe that Mr. Easthill is working with the smugglers, but I have not yet worked out how to remove myself from this particular situation.”
An idea came to Susanna and she reached out one hand, catching Lord Knightsbridge’s arm. “I may have,” she said quickly, her eyes wide as she felt both anticipation and anxiety climb into her heart. “But perhaps we can speak this evening? Once the entertainment is at an end?”
He nodded. “Certainly, Susanna.” Opening the door for her, he waited until she had stepped outside before adding, “And thank you.”
12
Whilst Benedict had to admit that he had found Miss Millerton’s suggestions to be wise indeed, there was something about following Mr. Easthill that he did not like.
Given that Mr. Easthill no longer had the documents for Benedict’s ship, Miss Millerton had suggested that he would somehow have to make contact with the smugglers—although what purpose the ship papers served, Benedict was not quite certain. The rest of her plan had been a little more risky but Benedict had found himself agreeing to it all. As he himself had very little idea as to what to do next, he had not had much of a choice but to agree, given that the ball was only a couple of days away. He had already spoken to his mother and she had reluctantly agreed to his request, and Miss Millerton and Mr. Taylor were to speak to the garden staff and stable hands come the morning. Thus far, everything appeared to be going well, but Benedict was still uncertain as to what Mr. Easthill would do next.
Which was why he was now following the gentleman in the dead of night with only the moonlight showing him where to go. Mr. Easthill was walking with a lantern held out before him, making his way around the side of Benedict’s house, his steps purposeful and determined. Benedict was quite certain that the man intended to go to the cliff path, which they had all walked down earlier in the week—even the ladies, with the wind whipping their curls and threatening to push away their bonnets. Benedict, having not known at the time that Mr. Easthill had been involved with the smugglers, had not noticed whether or not the gentleman had been much more sure of the path than the others, but seeing how he walked down it now, in the darkness and with only a lantern to guide him, Benedict was quite certain Mr. Easthill had walked this path before.
Lingering far behind, Benedict slowly began to make his way down the path, relieved that he himself was sure-footed, even in the darkness. He did not want to get too close and give his presence away but still wanted to overhear what Mr. Easthill said to whoever was awaiting him.
By the time Benedict made his way do
wn to the shore, he could see flickering lights a little further away. The moonlight was bright, however, and Benedict did not want anyone to be aware of his presence. Carefully, he began to move along the shoreline, creeping a little closer to the men but still making certain they could not see him.
Hiding in the shadow of a large rock, Benedict strained to hear what was being said.
“I do not know, I tell you!”
Clearly, Mr. Easthill was becoming irate. Benedict allowed himself a grim smile. The loss of Taylor and the ship documents was clearly something of a sore point for the gentleman.
“I will find the documents again, during the ball,” he heard Mr. Easthill say. “When will your men come in?”
Benedict caught his breath. So the men were intending to come into his house, were they? For what purpose?
“And he has not opened the crates?”
A snort came from Mr. Easthill and Benedict felt his stomach twist.
“Of course he has not,” the man said, a mocking note in his voice. “They would take at least two men to heft out of the cellar. And what would he do with them, once they were above stairs?” He laughed, the sound seeming to slither directly toward Benedict. “No, I told you he would leave them and thus, he has.”
“And you know he will not do anything stupid?”
Again came that cruel laugh. “I think the warning shot was enough to make him realize that we knew what he had done,” came Mr. Easthill’s voice. “There is nothing to worry about.”
Benedict had heard enough. Making his way toward the cliff path, he pressed himself back against the rocks for a moment, breathing hard. He needed no more proof. It was more than clear. His cousin had every intention of working with the smugglers in order to bring ruin to Benedict. And whilst he suspected that he knew the reason why, he still found it difficult to process. He barely knew his cousin. As far as he knew, Easthill was very well settled and did not ever reach for any sort of grandeur. Benedict knew that his mother certainly would not have invited Easthill should she have known of his dark intentions.
“It seems your plan will work, Susanna,” he murmured to himself, his head heavy with thoughts as he picked his way back up the path toward the house. “Although what will happen thereafter, I do not know.”
“Benedict?”
Benedict hesitated, wondering if he could avoid his mother when he was, in fact, about to make his way to the cellar, but soon realized by her hurried footsteps that he would not be able to do so. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile and turned to greet her.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Benedict,” his mother said, her breathing a little quickened from her hasty steps, “I must know what your intentions are for the ball this evening.”
Benedict frowned. “What can you mean, Mother?”
Lady Knightsbridge blew out an exasperated breath and placed her hands on her hips. “Pray, do not try to disabuse me of the notion that you are quite taken with Miss Millerton!” she exclaimed, glaring at him as though he were a child who had deliberately tried to infuriate her.
“That may be so, Mother,” Benedict replied easily, not having any intention of pretending it was not so, “but I cannot imagine what impact that will have on this evening’s ball.”
For what was now the second time, his mother let out a frustrated sigh and pinned him with her gaze. “Do you intend to throw all of your attentions toward her this evening?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes. “Might I remind you that there are many other young ladies who would be eager to have a dance or two with you?”
Benedict tilted his head. “Do you think my choice a poor one?”
Immediately, Lady Knightsbridge threw up her hands. “Of course I do not!” she exclaimed. “Miss Millerton is a perfectly respectable daughter of Lord Tollerton and her aunt is one of my dearest friends. I think it a perfectly wonderful match. However,” she continued, taking in a long breath, “what I do wish to see from you is your willingness to be an excellent host, right to the very end of the house party. That means you do not fix yourself solely to Miss Millerton’s side.”
Benedict, who knew very well that he would not be in the ballroom for a good length of time this evening, graced his mother with a warm smile. “But of course, Mother,” he said, seeing the relief flare in her eyes. “I understand. I will make certain to dance with as many of the young ladies as I can.”
Lady Knightsbridge beamed at him, all exasperation gone from her face in an instant. “Wonderful,” she said, putting one hand on his arm. “Now, I must go and change. The ball is going to be a magnificent end to a most delightful week, I am quite sure of it.” Turning, she made to leave only to stop herself and swing back toward him.
“Although,” she said, her smile gone and her frown now firmly back in place, “I must say I am rather displeased at your insistence that certain gentlemen—if they can be called such a thing—attend at such short notice.”
“I assure you, it was entirely necessary,” Benedict assured her, holding his mother’s gaze despite the irritation that had seeped into her expression. “Go now, Mother. You will not want to be late for the ball and I am sure you have a maid waiting for you, do you not?”
This seemed to bring Lady Knightsbridge back to herself and she immediately turned on her heel and hurried away, evidently recognizing the need to start her preparations almost at once. Benedict allowed himself a satisfied smile before pulling the key from his pocket and making his way down the servants’ stairs.
The servants’ quarters were a hive of activity, to the point that no one seemed to notice him slipping in through the crowd. Benedict was relieved at this, making his way carefully toward the cellar, then through the pantry and into the small room beyond, where he knelt down and pushed back the rug that covered the floor. The key was heavy in his hand, but he did not hesitate, pushing it into the lock and then turning the key with both hands.
The sound of the key reverberated through the room as he pulled it back out and pressed it into his pocket once more. They had not asked him to leave the key, of course, and thus he had chosen to keep it with him. Pausing for a moment, Benedict resisted the urge to pull open the cellar door, knowing that it would be opened soon by whoever was involved. He could not go in now, not when there was so much to lose. As much as he wanted to go to the crates, to open them and see just what was inside, Benedict knew he could not. It would ruin the smugglers’ plan and might make them act in unpredictable ways. For the moment, he had to leave it just as it was.
Clearing his throat, Benedict hurried back upstairs and then toward his rooms, as there was not much time for him to change and prepare. He was not entirely sure how the events of the evening would play out, but one thing was for certain. No matter what, Benedict wanted to have at least one opportunity to dance with Miss Millerton. Whatever his mother said, whatever she hoped Benedict would do, he had to make certain that he danced with Miss Millerton, for she was the only one of importance to him, the only one he wanted to take in his arms. He just had to hope that the rest of the evening went as planned.
“You dance very well, Susanna.”
Benedict could not help but chuckle as she looked up at him, her face drawn. “You find me tense?” she asked as he spun her around the floor. “I confess I am very much in a state of agitation. I am surprised you are not.”
Benedict, who had already told Miss Millerton what he had heard on the beach some two nights ago, tried to smile in a congenial manner, but found himself pulling her a little closer as they danced. “I must hope that it will go as we intend,” he said softly. “Lord Hemsley knows to inform me when Mr. Easthill quits the room.”
Miss Millerton pressed her lips together, still looking rather worried. “Does he know why?”
Letting out a wry chuckle, Benedict shook his head. “He believes that my cousin is inclined to drink too much liquor, which can get him into difficulty,” he said as the music began to slow. “He was very willing to help me ensure that s
uch a thing did not happen this evening.”
“He is a good man, I think,” Miss Millerton murmured as Benedict reluctantly let her go and bowed, watching her drop into an elegant curtsy. “And the other two men?”
“I am to speak to them now,” Benedict answered, offering her his arm. “Might you wish to come with me?”
Miss Millerton nodded and took his arm, her eyes searching the crowd as they moved through the room. Lady Knightsbridge had certainly created a wonderful evening, and with the additional guests, it was a very merry party indeed. If it had not been for the heavy weight of his cousin around his neck, Benedict might have found himself actually enjoying the evening.
“Ah, Mr. Long,” he said, seeing the fellow standing near the doors that led out to the gardens. “How good of you to come this evening.” Bowing quickly, he looked all about him. “Is your associate, Mr. Holbrook, with you?”
Mr. Long, whose name seemed to suit him given the fact that he was very slim indeed but with a rather extended nose, cleared his throat and gestured toward someone just over Benedict’s shoulder.
“You are very kind to have invited us here this evening, Lord Knightsbridge,” Mr. Long said, his voice a little higher pitched than Benedict had expected. “We did not expect to be—”
“Most kind, most kind,” Mr. Holbrook interrupted, bowing in a most ostentatious fashion. “I feel quite astonished that you would consider us, my lord.”
Benedict cleared his throat. “I must confess, gentlemen, that whilst it was my very great pleasure to invite you here this evening, I also have need of your expertise.” He saw the men’s eyes widen and their eyebrows lift, and he smiled at their exchanged glances.
“There is a very serious matter that has affected both myself and Lord Knightsbridge,” Miss Millerton added, before either of the men could speak. “We must pray that you are the men able to help us out of this difficulty.”