Page 28 of The Pirate and the Pagan
“We followed the felon here. No doubt he is one of your servants or grooms. Stand aside while we search the house.”
“You pompous ass!” she flared. “Are you aware that it is the middle of the night, Sergeant? Are you aware that I am alone here, in a state of undress, Sergeant? Are you aware that this household is in mourning, Sergeant?”
His neck flushed until you couldn’t tell where his bright uniform began. “If we find neither culprit nor contraband hidden within, we will leave you in peace, m’lady.”
“You would find neither, Sergeant. You may take my word for it. Good night.”
Oswald thought of Lord Helford’s cold fury and contempt and the verbal flaying Helford had subjected him to that morning. “The new magistrate has ordered that we search any household under suspicion.”
“Then the new magistrate is a bloody fool,” she asserted.
“Fool he may be, but he is a black-tempered authoritarian and I dare not disobey his orders. We must search your house.”
“You may search my house, Sergeant, when you have shown me your search warrant.”
“I don’t have one yet. I didn’t think it would be necessary,” he said with narrowed eyes.
“Let me assure you it is imperative! I suggest you go and get the warrant and come back.”
“It is the middle of the night,” he spat.
“Since you have ruined my sleep, I think it only fair that you ruin the magistrate’s sleep, or you could return in the morning, Sergeant, at a more civilized hour,” she suggested sweetly.
He pressed his lips together in rage and spun on his heel.
Summer threw home the bolt and climbed the stairs on very shaky legs.
Spider, still dressed, lay stretched out on his bed. “The whole story, if you please,” she said quietly.
“It wasn’t wrecking,” he said quickly. “Somebody else must have done that. When we saw the vessel, it was floundering. Belgian or Dutch, so where’s the harm?”
“We’re not at war with Holland yet,” she pointed out.
“Anyway, the wreckers had already looted her before we got to her. All the casks were gone except the broken ones. It was gin by the smell of it.”
“What’s in the cave?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea what it is. It could be worthless, for all I know. It’s wrapped in oilskins.”
“Well, whatever it is, we’d better go down now before the tide carries it out again.”
“Perhaps that would be best. If they search the house in the morning …”
She stood like a pagan in her crimson robe. “We are part of the sea; we will give up nothing.”
There were six heavy oilskin-wrapped bundles. It took them three trips each to carry the contraband into the cellars and another three trips to fetch it upstairs. Summer knelt before the bundles and carefully unwrapped one of the oilskins. Her breath caught in her throat as the candlelight revealed the beauty of the rich cache. “It must be Brussels lace,” she said in awe, reaching out to touch the fine, costly material.
“Who the hell can we sell that to?” asked Spider with disappointment.
“We must find some way of getting it to Auntie Lil. It’s worth its weight in gold. Of course we’ll have to settle for less than its true value, but it will bring us a few thousand.”
“Where will we hide it?” asked Spider.
“In my bed, I think. I’m reasonably certain I’m the only one with access to my own bed,” she said decisively.
She arose at dawn as usual, but it was not to ride the beach. She chose with care the loveliest day gown she owned. It was a cream linen decorated with pale green ribbon loops. She fastened some cream-colored roses into her hair and went to awaken her brother.
He blinked at the vision before him. “You’re going to a ball?” he asked, bewildered. Then he guessed again. “You’re getting married!”
