Page 41 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

‘And get your own head blown off in the process?’ Honoria asked, thinking darkly of John Kessel. She doubted the innkeeper’s son would hesitate to shoot a clergyman if he stood between Kessel and making a profit on his run.

‘I expect I’m not musket-proof,’ the vicar conceded with a smile, ‘but I’ll leave that up to the Almighty. I just know I must go and do what I can to help.’

A sudden thought struck dread in Honoria’s gut. ‘Is…is Captain Hawksworth landing goods, do you know?’

The vicar looked at her with concern. ‘I’m sorry, lass, I don’t know. Tamsyn did tell me the Flying Gull left the harbour several days ago, so it’s quite possible his ship is involved in this run.’

Fear more intense than anything Honoria had experienced save the night of her ruin constricted her breathing and clawed a gash in her stomach. ‘Then I’m coming, too,’ she announced.

‘My dear, that certainly wouldn’t be wise—’ he began.

She cut him off. ‘I’ll trail behind if you don’t want me riding with you, but coming I am. I’m not a fool; I’ve no intention of involving myself with the landing party and will choose a safe observation spot behind some rocks or something and watch at a distance. But if Gabe—Captain Hawksworth is involved, I must be there to see what happens.’

The vicar must have read the resolution in her eyes, for he simply nodded. ‘Very well. Let’s get the horses.’

‘Do you know where the cargo is to be landed?’ she asked as they paced toward the stables.

‘South along the coast. There’s a tor on the moor and beyond it, an old stone hut. During the first wave of free-trading in the last century, someone dug a tunnel from the beach up to the hut. The place hasn’t been used for quite a while, which is why the lander chose it this time, thinking the riding officers might not know about it.’

Trying to dissipate some of the fear clogging her mind, Honoria was about to joke that the reverend knew an uncommon amount about the transport of smuggled goods when it clicked in her mind that the place he’d just described sounded uncannily like the spot reached from Eva’s beach.

Another wave of fear clenched in her gut, sharper than the first. ‘Who is the lander?’ she asked urgently.

The vicar hesitated, but apparently deciding that having already displayed such extensive knowledge of the run, it would be rather silly to profess ignorance now, he replied, ‘John Kessel. He’s the lander on most of the runs for his brother’s ships.’

They’d reached the stables now. Collecting her mare, Honoria exhaled a shaky breath and tried to tell herself there was no connection between Eva’s failure to appear at the vicarage and the fact that her sister’s lover was directing smuggled goods to be brought ashore through an area that sounded very much like Eva’s secret tunnel.

They mounted swiftly and rode out of Sennlack, heading south. With the day overcast and a stiff wind blowing that would have carried their words away, neither attempted to converse. The wind’s force, Honoria thought, would also drive the waves higher, so that the breakers bearing the ships through the narrow cove opening would be particularly dangerous.

Would revenue agents be waiting on the beach or beyond the tunnel to confront them, ready to fire on the free-traders if they offered any resistance? Which, with John Kessel in charge, they almost certainly would.

Was Gabe one of the captains who’d be fired upon?

The miles seemed to creep by under the hooves of their horses. While foreboding took up residence in her mind and dread occupied her stomach, Honoria realized the truth that she’d been trying to evade for the last week and more.

She loved Gabriel Hawksworth—a free-trader, a man about whose family and past she knew almost nothing, whose future over the next several hours might include anything from a sackful of gold coins as profit on the venture, capture and imprisonment in some dank prison before going on trial for his life, or a ball between the eyes from the pistol of a determined riding officer.

She also realized that, whatever his birth or current occupation, in the depths of his soul he was a gentleman, possessed of more honour, compassion and concern for his fellow men than a ballroom full of high-born Corinthians. That her position as Lady Honoria, earl’s daughter, was nothing compared to the fierce joy that flooded her at the idea of being able to share her life with the man she loved, whatever his position.

If he cared for her as she cared for him, she could wish for nothing more glorious than making a life with him, wherever he wished to go, whatever he wished to do.

Though she devoutly hoped he’d meant it when he said that his time as a free-trader was nearly done. She wanted to enjoy his teasing wit, his incisive commentary, his intense blue-eyed gaze and bone-melting kisses for a very long time without having to worry that around the next bend waited a revenue agent with a levelled pistol, or somewhere beyond the next cove sailed a Royal Navy ship eager to force his vessel onto the rocks.

Though her hopes and desires were leaping ahead of reality as quickly as a smuggler’s lugger outrunning a revenuer cutter. She knew the strong connection—and potent desire—between them was mutual, but whether the captain was interested in anything more permanent than a brief liaison, she had no idea. If he cared about her enough to journey all the way to London to try to find evidence to exonerate her, that must mean he entertained some strong feelings for her, mustn’t it?

Or might it only mean he was once again displaying that deeply engrained sense of fairness that was so much the hallmark of a true gentleman?

Had she ruined any tender feelings he might hold for her by withholding the secret of her name? But surely, if he cared for her, he would be willing to forgive her that one bit of caution.

Those doubts, fear of what they might discover at the landing sight and a wild euphoria at admitting her love for Gabe cycled endlessly through her mind as they rode south. But though she thought she’d worried over every contingency they might encounter, she was still not prepared for what she perceived when they rounded the crest of the next hill and made out the ant-like line of men and women laden with casks and barrels, emerging from the stone hut and loading their cargo onto farm carts.

By the door of the hut, guarding access to the tunnel, stood Eva.

At the sight, Honoria’s resolve to remain hidden dissolved. Appalled and furious that the child was involved—and certain she knew who had involved her—Honoria touched her heels to the mare’s flanks and spurred her toward the distant hut at a gallop, heedless of the vicar’s warning cry behind her.

Within moments she reached the hut, and dismounted as an eager Eva ran up to her. Reins in one hand, Honoria gave her a one-armed hug. ‘I’m taking you home,’ she said urgently. ‘It’s not safe here.’

Distress on her face, Eva was signalling that she must stay, when the door of the hut opened and John Kessel emerged, stopped short and stared at them.

‘Here now, brat, what are you doing?’ he growled, ignoring Honoria. ‘Get back to your post!’

‘She’s not going back,’ Honoria said evenly. ‘She’s going with me.’ With difficulty, cognizant of how dangerous the man could be, she refrained from telling him exactly what she thought of him involving a child in his illegal operations.

‘Just what right do you have to interfere, missy? Her mother knows she’s here and will be happy to have the blunt I’m paying her. Happy, too, I’ll wager, that someone finally found a way for her idiot daughter to be useful. If the revenuers do appear, they won’t be able to get much information out of her, will they?’ he asked, with a bark of laughter.

His speech containing too many points with which she disagreed to begin rebutting them, she simply said, ‘It’s not safe for a child here. Find someone else to stand your lookout. I’m taking Eva with me.’

His levity vanished beneath a menacing frown. ‘This be none of your business, girl. You just ride that pretty little mare home to your aunt’s and go back to your tatting. And if you know what’s good for you, if you encounter any riding officers along the way, you’ll forget what you seen here.’

A rising fury burned away all caution. In John Kessel’s determined face she saw another evil man bent on accomplishing his own selfish plan, uncaring of the innocents he harmed. English law was harsh, too harsh, probably. Children not much older than Eva had been transported for less than the capital crime of smuggling, and Honoria was not about to let Eva become another helpless victim.

‘I’m sorry to be disobliging, Mr Kessel, but Eva cannot stay here. Let’s go, Eva,’ she said calmly and coaxingly to the child, who stood regarding them both, confusion and anxiety on her face. ‘You shall ride behind me on my beautiful horse. You’ll like that, won’t you?’

With a snarl, Kessel grabbed Eva’s hand and yanked her back toward the hut. ‘And I says you’re taking her nowhere until she’s finished here. You understand me, girl?’

‘Or what?’ Honoria snapped back, almost quivering with fury. ‘You’ll beat me? Strike an unarmed woman smaller than you, like the great loathsome bully you are?’

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