Page 49 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

Gabe bowed stiffly, aware that those cold eyes were subjecting him to an equally intense and measured inspection.

His simmering rage revived. This tall, forbidding stranger was the man who’d compounded his sister’s humiliation and anguish by refusing to believe in her.

Perhaps he had more to offer Honoria than the Carlows after all.

‘Captain Hawksworth,’ Marcus Carlow said, his voice imbued with the authority of one born to privilege. ‘I don’t believe I’ve had the honour of your acquaintance. I’m Stanegate, of course. Wellow tells me you’ve come on some matter regarding Lady Honoria? Just what are your dealings with my sister?’

Viscount Stanegate’s forbidding manner might have cowed a lesser man, but four years of commanding soldiers through the blood, dirt, terror and danger of battle had forged Gabe into a man not easily intimidated.

‘More supportive of her than you, sir,’ he replied. ‘I met your sister in Sennlack, where, by the way, she goes by the name Miss Foxe. Having become acquainted through her aunt, we developed a friendship. I soon came to greatly admire your sister’s spirit and character.’

‘If this is a declaration,’ Stanegate interrupted him, ‘you may spare your breath. I will not countenance—’

‘My lord, I would ask that you refrain from leaping to conclusions, apparently a frequent failing, and hear me out before you make a reply,’ Gabe cut him off acidly.

Anger flared in Stanegate’s eyes, but as Gabe expected, discovering the mission of someone who came bearing news of his sister was important enough for him to overlook, for the moment, Gabe’s insolence.

‘Excuse me,’ Stanegate replied, his tone irony dripping. ‘Pray, continue.’

‘As I said, your sister and I grew close enough that she confided to me the circumstances under which she came to be in Cornwall. Though her story apparently was not convincing enough to be believed by her immediate family, and despite knowing her but a short time, I was immediately certain that she had been the victim of a dreadful conspiracy. I set myself the task of uncovering the truth. And today, I accomplished that.’

Stanegate’s expression went rapidly from irritation to surprise to avid interest. ‘Please, Captain,’ he said. ‘Tell me everything you have discovered.’

‘At Lady Dalrington’s ball, Honoria said she was approached by a footman who told her that her fiancé, with whom she had quarrelled earlier, wished to meet privately in the garden to apologize. Anxious to settle the disagreement, she hurried out—only to find herself accosted by an infamous rake, who bound her hands in a silk rope—’

‘A silk rope, you say?’ Stanegate interrupted. ‘I saw nothing of the sort when I found them!’

‘Barwick untied her and tossed it away when he heard gentlemen approaching. Then asserted, worthless reprobate that he is, that he’d been invited to meet the lady in the garden. By Heaven!’ Gabe burst out. ‘How could you let the man say such things of Honoria without blackening his eyes where he stood!’

‘She was terrified and trembling, her gown torn, her bodice gaping open!’ Stanegate retorted. ‘At that moment, all I wanted to do was shield her from lecherous gazes and get her home. Of course I sought out Lord Barwick later, prepared to call him out! But though he apologized for embarrassing my sister, he protested his innocence most vehemently, declaring he had received a note from Honoria on paper bearing the Carlow crest, begging him to meet her in Lady Dalrington’s garden. The note further instructed that she’d send a footman to alert him when she could slip away. At the ball, a footman did just that. Barwick may be a loathsome toad of a lecher, but he doesn’t lie.’

‘Nor does your sister, Lord Stanegate,’ Gabe said evenly.

Stanegate flushed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘The whole affair was a disaster! Even you must admit how bizarre it sounded. My wife was in a delicate condition, my father’s health dangerously fragile, my innocent younger sister has yet to contract an eligible marriage. Having Honoria spring another of her ill-judged, crack-brained schemes upon us at just that moment…well, I lost my temper. Almost immediately I regretted the immoderate manner in which I’d addressed her. I intended to beg her pardon, but with Parliament in session and the press of estate business, by the time I came to see her, she’d already left London. When I discovered she’d gone to Cornwall instead of Stanegate Court, I knew she was seriously angry with me. I’ve written her since, but received no response.’

‘But now,’ he said, turning back to Gabe, ‘you tell me you have proof that someone deliberately set up the rendezvous in the garden to ruin her—and have discovered the identity of the person who perpetrated this outrage?’

‘I’ve just come from speaking with him. He admitted—nay, he boasted!—of concocting the whole elaborate ruse, showing not a particle of remorse for the harm he’d done. In fact, he seems to see himself as a sort of instrument of fate.’

‘Stephen Hebden,’ Stanegate said quietly. ‘If there was a silken rope involved, it must have Hebden. Or was he calling himself Beshaley?’

‘He goes by both. He has attempted to harm your family before?’ Gabe asked. When Stanegate nodded, he said, ‘Then by Heaven, why have you not had him clapped in irons?’

‘We hoped we had seen the last of him. And in Honoria’s case, on what grounds could we press charges? Barwick told me he burned the incriminating note as soon as he’d read it. What would be the point of trying to bring him, or Hebden, to court in a case which I doubt any solicitor could win, at the same time reviving a scandal best buried and forgotten as quickly as possible?’

‘You’d rather save the family embarrassment than vindicate your sister’s honour?’ Gabe spit out contemptuously.

Fury hardened Stanegate’s face. ‘You obviously know nothing of London Society, sir, else I should call you out for such an insult! Have you no idea what a trial would mean to Honoria? Seeing her caricature in every press-shop window, hearing herself the focus of scurrilous speculation by every rogue and reprobate in London? Blackening her reputation so thoroughly in polite Society that her chances of returning there would be ruined, even were she proven innocent!’

‘I’ll allow you know the probable reaction of the London Ton better than I,’ Gabe replied, somewhat mollified.

‘If you have proof of Hebden’s involvement, I can try to restrain him, though I shall probably have to operate outside the law. Where did you meet with him?’

‘He keeps a house in Bloomsbury Square,’ Gabe replied.

Stanegate nodded. ‘I shall check with my contacts at Bow Street and get some men on it immediately.’

‘Once you’ve dealt with him, I hope you intend to make every effort to restore your sister to her rightful place.’

‘Despite what you seem to think, that has been my intention from the beginning. I’ve only been awaiting the best moment to start.’ Fixing Gabe again with that intimidating stare, Stanegate said, ‘Just what is your interest in this, Captain?’

‘I’m a friend of your sister’s. I’m also outraged by injustice and would like to see it punished.’

Stanegate raised an eyebrow. ‘And that’s all?’

It was all Gabe intended to reveal to her brother, at least at this point. ‘That’s all. Can I trust you to do the right thing by her?’

‘I give you my word.’

Gabe stood and offered Stanegate a bow. ‘Then I have accomplished all I set out to do.’

‘Thank you for efforts on her behalf,’ Stanegate said as he walked Gabe to the door. ‘And you’re right. You have been more a friend and protector to my sister than I. For your care of one whom, though you may not believe it, I cherish, you have my eternal gratitude.’

With a stiff nod, Gabe went out.

Suddenly, the fatigue of his many days and nights on the road swamped him. Bone weary, he mounted his horse and rode to the Clarion, where he bespoke a room and some dinner.

He’d rest, then return to Cornwall and report to Lady Honoria. The idea of seeing her again sent a heady, reviving flush of warmth through him.

What would he do about her? Much depended on what action her brother took. Gabe would say and do nothing until Stanegate had time to make good on his word.

Well, maybe he’d do one thing. Since he was in London anyway, he might as well return to Cornwall prepared.

Pulling his horse up in front of the hotel, he half fell from the saddle, handed the reins off to a waiting groom, and stumbled inside.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A week later, Honoria knelt in her aunt’s garden, taking out her loneliness and frustration by uprooting weeds and savagely beheading the fading pansies. Captain Hawksworth had been gone nearly a month and she’d heard not a word.

Cornwall had slipped from late spring into glorious early summer, swept fresh by a brisk southwest wind, its moors covered with a colourful carpet of thrift, campion, gorse and squill, while playful dolphins chased each other in the turquoise waters, falcons and kestrels soared with gulls overhead, and finches chattered away in the newly leafed trees.

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