Page 33 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

‘The devil you say!’ Gabe cried, unable to restrain himself any longer. ‘Only give me his name and I’ll put a bullet through him!’

She shook her head. ‘Bad as he is, ’twas not completely his fault. I…I had acquired a reputation for being rather fast, daring to pull pranks more conventional young ladies would never consider. Nothing truly scandalous, but I can understand why he might have believed the note sent to him, purportedly from me, to be genuine.’

Gabe frowned. ‘He received a note, you say? From whom?’

‘I don’t know. The note inviting him to dalliance and enclosing the rope asked him to attend the ball and wait for a footman to bring him word to join me in the garden. Apparently a liveried footman did so, just before giving a similar message to me.’

‘Your hostess had a part in this?’ he demanded in disbelief.

‘I don’t think so. I believe whoever set this up employed someone dressed like a footman to deliver the messages. For though it seemed I struggled with the rake for an eternity, it couldn’t have been too long after that my brother, Anthony and some friends came running down the pathway. Marcus later told me a footman brought him a message, too, supposedly from one of his friends who’d seen me slip away in company with the rake, urging him to fetch Anthony and come find me.’

‘And so they rushed to your rescue?’

She smiled grimly. ‘Oh, they came—but by then, it was too late to salvage my reputation. You see, once h-he—’ Her voice broke and she wrapped her arms protectively about her torso.

‘Enough,’ Gabe cried, gripping her shoulders, outraged and agonized by her distress. ‘You needn’t say any more.’

She shook her head vigorously. ‘Please, I want…I need to continue. If I may?’

Too outraged to trust himself to words, Gabe merely nodded.

She took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Once he had me immobilized, he no longer seemed even to hear my protests. I fought him off as best I could, struggling, kicking, biting, but that only seemed to inflame him more. By the time we were discovered, he’d ripped the front of my bodice and torn my skirts.’

‘And your brother didn’t kill him on the spot?’ Gabe demanded in disbelief.

‘I expect he was more interested in hurrying me away before the crowd of gentlemen with him got a closer view. Besides, when Marc challenged him, the rogue proclaimed loudly that I’d invited him to meet me—and surely a gentleman ought not to disappoint a lady? He’d released me and tossed away the rope as soon as he saw the crowd approaching, and from the titters at that remark and the leers on the men’s faces, I could tell they believed him.

‘Those faces,’ she repeated, her voice fading to a whisper while her eyes, wide and anguished, gazed sightlessly at the horizon. ‘I shall never forget them.’

‘Then your brother led you away?’ Gabe demanded, approving at least that part of her sibling’s conduct.

‘Y-yes,’ she replied, returning to the present. ‘Marcus lent me his coat and walked me through the crowd of men…all still watching me.’

‘But once he’d gotten you safely away, didn’t he go back and deal with the rogue?’

‘He was too furious. He knew I’d been angry with Anthony and believed that, in an ill-judged fit of pique, I had indeed asked the man to meet me. When I tried to protest my innocence, he refused to believe me, saying it was incredible to suppose anyone else would have had either reason or means to construct so bizarre a plan. He chastised me,’ she continued, her voice growing bitter, ‘for trying to evade the blame for embarrassing the family and creating so appalling a scandal.’

She hopped off the rock and paced down the beach. ‘Bad enough that Marc thought me stupid enough to have concocted such a mutton-headed, dangerous scheme,’ she said, halting to look back at him, hurt and indignation in her voice, ‘but then to accuse me of lying about it! Whatever silly stunts I’d pulled, and I admit, there’d been a few, I’d never given him reason to doubt my word.’

The anger seemed to leave her as swiftly as it had come. ‘I left London at once, of course, but not for our country estate as Marc commanded. Being somewhat displeased with the men of my family, I chose to seek refuge here, with my mother’s Aunt Foxe. She’s a bit of a rebel herself, as you may have heard,’ she added with a slight smile. ‘She was kind enough to take me in. So here I remain, a ruined and abandoned woman.’

‘Your fiancé did not stand by you?’

She uttered a derisive sniff. ‘No. His was one of the outraged, leering faces the night of my disgrace. He couldn’t wait to rid himself of me.’

‘Then his behaviour is only marginally better than the rogue’s,’ Gabe declared, disgusted by a man who would fail to support the woman to whom he’d been promised, at least until he could uncover the whole truth of the matter. ‘You deserve better!’

She waved a hand dismissively. ‘Perhaps. Anyway, I appreciate your indulgence in allowing me to recite my sad little tale.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Though instead of an understanding shoulder to weep upon, perhaps you should have given me a quick slap to the head. I expect we’d best be leaving now.’

She turned toward the path to the cliffs. But Gabe was not about to let her brush off the harrowing experience and walk away, diminishing what had so deeply wounded her, what she’d trusted him enough to share.

‘It’s not too late, you know,’ he said after her.

She stopped and raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Too late?’

‘To find out who was responsible for bringing you and the rogue to the garden, then alerting the others. Not too late to find—and punish him. I’ll even lend you a sword—although you may have to arm-wrestle me for the privilege of running the wretch through.’

For a moment she stared at him through lashes that were still wet with tears.

‘Are you suggesting we—’

‘Look further into this? Find out who planned and executed it? Yes, I am. Damnation, someone went to a very great deal of trouble to ruin you. Even if you don’t want to exact revenge, don’t you at least want to know who—and why?’

She stared silently at him for a long moment. ‘You would…do that for me?’

He made her a bow that would have done a courtier proud at a Queen’s drawing room. ‘Consider it a matter of honour. Now, with whom, besides your fiancé, had you quarrelled recently? Who might stand to gain from your disgrace? Who was present in the garden that night? Tell me everything you can remember.’

Chapter Fifteen

Hesitant, her heartbeat racing, Honoria stood motionless, staring at Captain Hawksworth. She ought to feel humiliated, after having just laid bare before the man whose admiration she most wished to retain the whole tawdry tale of her ruin. Instead, though, she felt…free.

He had offered her comfort, even after the absurd way she’d behaved, pushing him away like a prim dowager outraged by a tipsy roué’s attempt to steal a kiss. Pushed him away, after all her lusty imaginings over the shape and size and feel of his masculine parts and how he might ply them and how she might assist him.

Still, the wave of fear and revulsion that had swamped her when his arms closed around her—completely unanticipated and without warning—had been irresistible. Panic lending her strength, she’d felt she would suffocate if she didn’t get free, get some air, put some distance between them.

Obviously the attack by Lord Barwick had wounded her far more deeply than she’d suspected. Perhaps she’d been wrong to repress the memory and refuse to acknowledge her distress over it. Perhaps it was inevitable that eventually her tight-fisted grip over those events would weaken and the whole flood of anguished memories would come pouring forth—as they had today.

Having revealed all the sordid details that until now she’d hidden from everyone, she felt curiously washed clean. And contrary to her expectations—expectations partly responsible for her reluctance to confess to anyone what had happened—instead of looking at her in disgust, as Anthony had that night, Captain Hawksworth had been outraged on her behalf.

More precious than comfort, he was now extending to her something not even Aunt Foxe, who believed her story and sympathized with her plight, had offered: a chance to discover who had done this to her and why.

She felt a surge of energy and excitement. Instead of being simply a hapless victim, a tool of some unknown master hand, she might fight back. And if obtaining justice were not possible, she might at least hope to look with cold contempt into the face of the person who had destroyed her life.

Humbled, grateful, she said, ‘I’m not sure what I remember.’

‘Then since your aunt expects you shortly,’ he replied, gesturing toward the rock, ‘you’d better sit down and get started.’

She climbed up beside him again and cast her mind back to the events of those last days in London. ‘With whom had I quarrelled?’ She sat silent a moment, thinking, then shrugged. ‘I can’t recall a serious argument with anyone but Anthony. As for who might profit from my disgrace, I don’t know that my downfall would benefit anyone. Oh, to be sure, there were young ladies jealous of my success among the gentlemen, but as I was already engaged, it’s not as though I had just stolen a duke or marquess from under some damsel’s nose. And even if I had, what female would have the resources to accomplish a scheme as complicated as this? Even after the relatively limited contemplation of it I’ve been able to endure, reviewing the events led me to conclude it must have been a man’s doing. But for what reason, I still cannot imagine.’

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