Page 18 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

‘I should like that tea now,’ she said, recalling him.

Abruptly turning to find her watching him, probably with a speculative look on her face, he flushed and gestured toward the vicarage. ‘I’ll have Mrs Wells bring us tea at once.’

A few minutes later, when they were settled in the snug parlour, the housekeeper brought in a steaming pot along with some biscuits fresh from the oven. Honoria had just poured them each a cup when the housekeeper came back in.

‘Father Gryffd, Mr Hawksworth is here, begging if he might join you. Should I show him in?’

‘Of course. If you don’t mind, Miss Foxe?’

Honoria felt a zing of excitement and a flush of warmth throughout her body. Hoping the sudden heat hadn’t shown on her face, she said, with a calm belied by the sudden gallop of her pulse, ‘As you wish, Father.’

Then he was striding in, bringing with him a gust of cool outside air and a sense of energy and vigour that was nearly palpable, along with a touch of the wildness of the sea itself.

Goodness, Honoria thought, hauling back on the flights of fancy. She was becoming as cast-away poetical as Tamsyn.

‘Thank you for receiving me, Father. I must admit, when Mr Lowe mentioned he’d seen Miss Foxe’s gig here, I stopped by hoping to catch her. After the distressing incident a few days ago, I wanted to make sure all was well.’

She coloured under the intensity of his gaze. It seemed to make her very skin prickle, almost as if she could feel it brush her skin, like a fingertip.

Though the thought was absurd, still it threw her so off-stride that she stumbled to find words like a maid as infatuated as Tamsyn. Sternly ordering herself to gather her wits, she replied, ‘I’m fine, Captain Hawksworth. Thank you for your concern.’

‘Incident?’ the vicar asked, his brow furrowed. ‘Did something untoward befall you after left the Gull? If so, I shall be most distressed for abandoning you!’

‘’Tis more what befell Laurie.’ Quickly Honoria explained what had occurred on her previous visit to town.

The vicar shook his head, looking unhappy. ‘There’s no end of mischief gotten up in those beer shops. I’m relieved, Captain, that you were at hand to prevent something even worse from befalling the ladies.’

Gabe nodded. ‘I, too, am glad I was near. Speaking of hands, that’s a lovely pair of gloves you have, Miss Foxe. Locally made, I’m guessing.’

‘Yes, by Mrs Steavens. Father, I’ve just been thinking. It’s all well to teach the girls letters and numbers, but unless they leave to work in some factory, learning is not going to help them benefit their families. What if they could learn to construct gloves as fine, thick and heavy as these, in such intricate patterns? Couldn’t they be sold in the larger market towns, even in London?’

‘They are very fine,’ the vicar said, looking thoughtful. ‘Certainly it would be a boon to their families if they were able to bring in any money at all. But the women hereabouts, especially the fishermen’s wives, have long knitted sturdy gloves and sweaters for their menfolk. I don’t know where there might be a market for such goods.’

‘I don’t know anything about markets either,’ Honoria said, ‘but I know superior workmanship when I see it.’

There was a knock, followed by Mrs Wells’s entry. ‘Excuse me, Father, but could you come? There’s someone needing your attention.’

The vicar rose at once. ‘Thank you, Mrs Wells. Begin preparing the usual packet.’ To Honoria and the captain he said, ‘If you will excuse me a moment? ‘

They murmured assent and the vicar walked out. Honoria was more than a little nervous to be left alone with the captain, especially as his dynamic personality seemed to expand to fill the gap left by the departing vicar.

It made it deuced hard to concentrate, rendering a lady who, Honoria thought in disgust, had bandied words with glibbest gentlemen of the Ton suddenly too tongue-tied to produce a coherent sentence.

‘Probably a beggar,’ Captain Hawksworth said, breaking the silence that had fallen with the vicar’s exit. ‘It’s widely known that anyone in difficulties will never be turned away. Father Gryffd is a man of God who truly lives up to his calling.’

Honoria thought of his kindness to Eva and Laurie. ‘He seems not to judge the failings of others—a trait not as common as one might wish in clergymen.’

Suddenly she wondered uncomfortably how Father Gryffd might react if he knew the story of the lady he’d invited to advise his girls. Her conscience pricked; this business of false names was becoming more complex. She owed it to the vicar to confess the truth of her situation before she associated herself with his school. She’d no more wish for her scandal to bring harm upon the local girls than she would be to inflict it on her sister.

‘You were talking about teaching girls knitting, then finding a market for their goods?’ the captain asked, interrupting her solemn thoughts. ‘It sounds like an excellent idea. Do you have any contacts who might help you in London? If not, perhaps I could assist.’

Honoria raised her eyebrows. ‘I didn’t know you had any dealings in legitimate goods.’

The captain grinned. ‘Most hereabouts believe we deal more honestly than those who sell goods under a customs stamp, since the price they pay us is more reflective of the true cost. You may be wary of my…experience, but I promise you, I do know how goods must be funded, produced, delivered to market and sold. How would you go about doing that?’

‘First, we would have to obtain superior wool, then ask Mrs Steavens to teach the girls how to knit articles worthy of sale. While they are perfecting their skills, we could approach shopkeepers to convince them to stock the items, then see about transporting them to the merchants.’

Hawksworth smiled. ‘I think you might make a good trader yourself, Miss Foxe. Though someone from your background might not believe it, that was a compliment.’

If her mother heard her discussing the steps necessary to go into trade, she’d faint dead away, Honoria thought with slight smile. In fact, according to the Carlows, having her soil her hands in trade would probably be more scandalous than losing her reputation.

Her smile faded. She really did not wish to bring still more notoriety on the family name. But she would like to help the girls. Maybe Aunt Foxe knew someone in London?

Even as she thought it, the captain said, ‘I have some London contacts. I could look into the matter, if you like, speaking to merchants about possibly handling the goods, inquiring about transport and the obtaining of wool.’

When Honoria hesitated, not sure she wished to launch upon an enterprise that would bring her in closer contact with him, Hawksworth grinned. ‘They are quite legitimate contacts, I assure you. Last time I inquired, mittens knit by Cornish schoolgirls were not on the list of contraband goods.’

She smiled back. ‘As you say, it’s very early yet, but if it is not too much trouble to inquire, I would appreciate it. I shall speak with my aunt as well. Though she has lived in Cornwall for many years, she maintains an active correspondence with friends in London and elsewhere.’

The vicar returned, apologizing for his absence. ‘Sorry to have abandoned you, but that latest poor wretch was hungry and cold.’

‘Maybe he needed a wee nip of brandy to warm him,’ the captain suggested, a twinkle in his eye.

The vicar looked uncomfortable. ‘You’re probably right. Oh, I know Charles Wesley spoke most passionately against free-trading, but I confess I cannot see that it harms, more than it benefits, a parish.’

‘But it’s also difficult to persuade them to obey it, when it so greatly conflicts with what’s in their best interest.’

‘Still,’ the vicar replied, ‘One cannot deny, while the trade helps poor wretches earn a few more pence to ease their lives, importation of cheap gin from Ireland does encourage drunkenness of the dangerous sort Miss Laurie just experienced. Encouraging disobedience of the law is never wise.’

‘Even if you partake of a drop or two yourself now and again,’ the captain added with a smile.

‘Shall we return our attention to mittens?’ Honoria asked with a reproachful glance at the captain for his teasing of the vicar. ‘I’ve just been discussing the project with the captain. He suggests we try selling the mittens in London.’

Father Gryffd brightened. ‘It would be better, I think, taking them farther away. Most folk hereabouts know someone who can knit them, if they don’t do it themselves. I’m not so sure about city-dwellers. And I have no connections in London. Do you, Miss Foxe?’

Honoria’s conscience piqued her anew. She would confess her involvement in scandal to him this minute—but for the presence of Captain Hawksworth. ‘The captain has just been saying he might know someone.’

‘Merchants who deal in goods that are quite legal,’ the captain assured him solemnly.

‘Indeed, it would have to be,’ Honoria added, giving him a severe look. ‘No involving children in your…trade.’

The captain immediately sobered. ‘I would never countenance involving children in that, Miss Foxe.’

Though she still wasn’t sure she could believe everything he said, his avowal reassured her. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

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