Page 29 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

Honoria shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ The new, insistent little voice that whispered of a future prompted her to add, ‘Do you know anything of Captain Hawksworth’s family?’

‘Not a thing. He’s gentry-born, I suspect, but not of a degree comparable to the Carlows.’

Honoria sighed. ‘So I suspect as well. Even worse, he’s a free-trader! It’s a connection that would horrify Papa, Mama, Marcus—probably even Hal.’

Aunt Foxe shrugged. ‘Family connections can be highly overrated if they separate you from the one man you will ever truly love. Is Captain Hawksworth that one for you?’

‘I don’t know!’ Honoria said, all the insecurity and indecision and longing and confusion she’d been trying to suppress bursting free. ‘I admire and respect him. He possesses a sense of honour and uprightness I would have never had suspected in one who is basically an outlaw.’

‘Ah, but not an outlaw in the eyes of a Cornishman,’ Aunt Foxe reminded her.

‘So he keeps telling me,’ Honoria replied ruefully. ‘Beyond his character, I feel an…extraordinary attraction. A fascination, admiration—and, I admit, lust. He touches me, pulls me to him more intensely, more completely, than any man I’ve ever met. He…he might well be the one,’ she said, admitting that possibility to herself for the first time. ‘But though I know he finds me attractive and enjoys bandying wits with me, I have no firm indication that he intends more than flirtation.’

‘So what are you going to do about him—and your future?’

Honoria shrugged her shoulders helplessly. ‘I know what I don’t want…but I haven’t yet figured out what I do want, or if it would even be possible to attain it. I know I don’t intend to return to London. Nor, like you, do I wish to marry an amenable someone found by Marcus or Mama who graciously deigns to accept to wife a girl of tarnished honour but large dowry.’

‘I understand Narborough is too ill to take much of a hand in things, but your brother Marcus always struck me as a fair-minded lad. I don’t think he’d force you into something you didn’t want, no more than my father did me. By the way, I’ve just received a letter from Marcus addressed to you, if you’d like to read it.’

Honoria wasn’t sure whether she was ready to read something Marcus had written or not. ‘So he tracked me down. I didn’t think it would take him long.’

‘Oh, I expect your coachman told him straightaway where you’d gone as soon as he returned to London.’

A more dismaying thought occurred. ‘You accepted a letter—for me? So do the servants and the postmen now know—’

‘Heavens, child,’ Aunt Foxe interrupted her agitation, ‘do you think me a dimwit? When Mrs Dawes brought me the letter, she ventured to observe that perhaps Lady Honoria would be coming to join Miss Foxe. I agreed that was very likely, and would inform her of when the visit was to occur. So your secret is still safe.’

Honoria sighed in relief. ‘Thank you, Aunt Foxe. I shall never be able to thank you enough for your kindness, first in taking me in, then in allowing me to perpetrate such an outrageous lie.’

‘We sheep of similarly dark hues must flock together. But while you decide what you do wish to do for the future, be careful. The desires discussed in that book—’ she angled her head toward the volume still lying on the table ‘—are very strong. And that book, by the way, was written to instruct midwives and young married couples on the best way to insure conception. Not, perhaps, the best reference for what you have in mind.’

Honoria sighed. ‘I’m trying to resist having in mind what I have in mind. But I must confess, the prospect of having no reputation left to lose makes resisting temptation much more difficult.’

‘If you are interested, I possess other volumes that discuss ways to avoid conception. However, it would be best for you to first decide what your—and perhaps Captain Hawksworth’s—intentions are. Although I would certainly assist you in every way possible, you would not wish to harm an innocent child, especially a child of your own body you could never keep. So don’t be foolish.’

She rose and walked to the window, her gaze once again on the distant sea. ‘On the other hand, as I can attest, love is a rare gift. The young believe they have all the time in the world. They don’t.’

She turned back to face Honoria. ‘Though I caution against proceeding recklessly, I would also advise you not to miss the opportunity to experience something precious, something that for some of us comes only once in a lifetime.’

Honoria sat silently, mulling over her aunt’s words. ‘If you were to do it all over again…would you do the same?’

‘Do I regret loving Phillip? Never. Would I have run away with him again? Without question. Should I have opened myself up more to the possibility of finding another love? On that point, I admit, I’m not quite so sure. I have sometimes been lonely.’

She walked back over to take Honoria’s hands. ‘But I know I am much happier than I would have been had I allowed myself to be coerced into marrying a man I did not love. My father, to my infinite gratitude, made sure that would never happen to me. And if Marcus declines to do the same for you, I promise I will.’

Feeling the burn of tears in her eyes, Honoria jumped up and hugged her aunt. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

‘You are welcome, my dear,’ her aunt replied, releasing her, her own eyes suspiciously moist. ‘Your presence here has been an unexpected gift to me, too, you know. Imagine discovering after all these years there is someone in the family whose company I truly enjoy! Please know that, if you choose to, you are welcome to stay here at Foxeden permanently.

‘Now,’ she said, turning toward the door, ‘I believe Dawes has been holding our dinner, which we ought to go eat before the roast dries out. And should you decide you wish to consult those…other references, let me know and I will point them out.’ Giving Honoria’s hand another pat, she walked from the room.

Though she was no closer to a decision about what to do with her future, knowing she had her aunt’s support—and affection—made the queasy knot of uncertainty that had sat in her gut for more than a month ease a bit. If nothing else, she could end her days as her aunt’s companion, sharing that restless vista of sea, walking the cliffs, planting herbs—and maybe helping little girls like Eva.

Eva! In all the flurry after discovering the book and her aunt’s revelations, she’d entirely forgotten to tell her aunt about Eva and her unexpected talent. She must do so after dinner, so she would know whether her aunt had paints or colours she might borrow to take to the school.

Would Captain Hawksworth come tomorrow to see how Eva’s drawing progressed? Her whole being thrilled at the idea of seeing him again, discussing the plans for Eva’s future.

As for her own, she might not know yet where the handsome captain fit in, but she did know with a deep certainty that her future could not be settled without resolving her attraction to him. Which left her with both disturbing—and arousing—possibilities.

Friendship? Stolen kisses? A scandalous affair?

Marriage?

She cast another glance at the volume Aunt Foxe had placed back on the table. As mesmerizing and titillating as the information contained within its pages, she had no need of the graphic text in Aristotle’s Masterpiece to warn her about the power of the urges it described.

Just a short time alone with Captain Hawksworth had been enough for her to discover their potent, mind-dazzling force.

She would have to be very sure she could cope with the results if she permitted herself to allow those appetites free rein. And since Captain Hawksworth had proven himself capable of igniting her desire to a pitch of urgency she was not at all sure she could control, until she had decided how she meant to proceed, she’d better make sure she saw him only in company.

No matter how much her spirits and her senses yearned for him.

Chapter Fourteen

In late morning the next day, Gabe found himself walking toward the vicarage. The purported intent of his visit was to discover from Father Gryffd the current whereabouts of William Darby, the parish clerk, who in Sennlack, as in many Cornish towns, was also the quill master, or keeper of the books, for the smuggling operations.

He wondered for a moment whether the vicar was aware of his clerk’s intimate involvement in the enterprise. Confession being good for the soul and confessions heard by clergy being privileged under the law, Gabe concluded he probably did.

Dickin’s father the innkeeper, Perren Kessel, who functioned as the venturer by gathering orders and payment for William to record, had told him just this morning that he had collected enough of both to alert their contacts in France to prepare the next shipment. Soon, Gabe would be taking the Flying Gull back to sea.

The prospect of matching his wits against wind, wave, storm and possible pursuit always energized him, but this time did not, as it normally did, push all other topics from his mind. Not that the voyage itself concerned him; he’d long ago consigned whatever happened on these ventures to God and fate. If he were meant to be hauled up by a revenue cutter somewhere on dark reaches of the stormy water between here and France, no amount of worry would prevent it, and worry was therefore useless.

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