Page 51 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

‘Am I correct in assuming it involves a certain impassioned young captain?’

She slid him a glance under her lashes, but his expression told her nothing. ‘And if it should?’

‘I’d never stand in the way of your happiness. Whatever you decide about your future.’

‘Thank you,’ she said softly, another weight lifting from her soul. Regardless of where her path took her, she didn’t really want to walk it estranged from her family.

‘Since you did mention it, I expect you will want to do some tidying up. I’ll go settle into my chamber and then visit Aunt Foxe. Shall I see you at dinner?’

She nodded. ‘At dinner, then.’

He gave her a grin and a quick kiss on the forehead and walked out. Honoria drifted into the entry hall after him, but though reconciling with Marc had soothed some of the ache in her heart, with dinner still hours away, she felt too restless to be cooped up in the house.

Since she was muddy and windblown anyway, she’d take a walk on the cliff path, read Verity’s letter and mull over what Marcus had said.

Tucking the note in her sleeve, she fetched a cloak, slipped out the door by the kitchen and set off.

Some half hour later, Gabe rode up to Foxeden. He had extended his stay in London by another day in order to talk with investors about the buying of a ship and to consult Mr Avery at the gallery, who received Eva’s new pastel drawings with all the enthusiasm he had hoped. There was still much to be done to launch himself upon a trading career, but it had been nearly a month since he’d seen Honoria and he couldn’t wait a moment longer to be with her again.

His talk with her brother had convinced him Stanegate intended to restore her to Society. He was glad for that and wished the viscount success, but during the long ride back from London, he’d also decided he would not nobly stand aside and send her away. Though neither as smuggler nor as tradesman would he be considered remotely eligible as a husband by her family—or his—he would not let her return to her old life without trying to convince her to be his wife.

She might prefer a position in Society to embracing him and what he could offer. But he didn’t think so. Filled with that hope, his last stop before leaving London had been at the office of the Archbishop of Canterbury, where he harried the poor clerk into issuing him a special license in record time. If he could persuade Honoria to have him—Gabe grinned, envisioning some of the spots upon which he would concentrate his efforts at kissing her into agreement—he intended to marry her at once and bring her with him as he embarked upon his trading enterprise.

Trying to master his nervousness at knowing he would soon be putting his whole future happiness to the test, he knocked at Foxeden’s front door. He was returning the greeting of the butler who admitted him when, to Gabe’s astonishment, Honoria’s brother strode down the stairs from the parlour.

Stopping short, Gabe bowed. ‘Stanegate. I didn’t know you’d planned to come to Cornwall.’

‘Since my sister would not come to me, I was obliged to go to her,’ the viscount said, bowing back. ‘Though I’m not at all surprised to see you here.’

Gabe looked squarely at Stanegate. ‘I intend to ask Honoria to marry me.’

‘And you seek my permission?’

‘No. I’m simply informing you, as a courtesy. She’s of age and can wed with or without your leave. Though I’ve been a free-trader—’

‘I understand they are held in high esteem here,’ Stanegate inserted.

‘I am gentry-born. My brother is—’

‘Sir Nigel Hawksworth, of Ballyclarig Manor. A magistrate who also sits at the Assises for County Cork. Married the Honorable Miss Chastain, daughter of Lord Chastain of Parnell Hall. You served for four years in the 3rd Regiment of the 27th Inniskilling Foot, attaining the rank of First Lieutenant, before being wounded at Orthes.’

Gabe stared at him. ‘How did you—’

Stanegate shrugged. ‘My secretary is very efficient. I know you think I’m a shabby sort of brother, but when an unknown young man turns up, rattling his sabre at me, ready to gallop off to defend my sister’s honour, I do take notice.’

Flustered, Gabe tried to pick up the threads of the explanation he’d mentally rehearsed to give Honoria’s family, if she consented to marry him. ‘My family owns some of the prettiest acres in Southern Ireland, but I’ve long known I would never be content overseeing one of my brother’s holdings. My recent time as a free-trader confirmed that the sea’s in my blood, and though I don’t wish to remain in the trade and risk making Honoria a widow before she’s scarcely been a wife, I do mean to continue at sea.’

‘You’ll seek a naval commission?’

‘No, I had my fill of regimentation whilst in the Army. I’ve interested a small group of investors, and with their blunt and some of my own, I intend to purchase a ship. Just a small sloop at first, but sound enough for ocean sailing and commodious enough to carry a good cargo of legitimate goods. Art, woollen goods, artefacts. Spices from the Indies; pineapple from the tropics. I’ll sail her wherever there are desirable goods needing transit from their place of production to a market with willing buyers.’

‘And you want to bring my sister into this vagabond life?’

‘If she’ll have me. She may prefer returning to the life she’s always known, the life you can offer her, conventional marriage to a respectable society gentleman. Love her as I do, I could never be that. But I can give her moonlight on the sea, the ship’s wake a phosphorescent glow in the blackness. The pearl of dawn, when out of the shadowy greyness the sky slowly distinguishes itself from the sea. Tropic beaches gleaming in the sun, the great endless green stretches of hardwood forest in the Americas. I intend to be very persuasive,’ he concluded, having no intention of telling her elder brother what other, more intimate techniques he meant to employ.

Stanegate smiled. ‘You’re convincing me. Is Sir Nigel one of your investors?’

Gabe laughed at the thought. ‘My brother would rather throw his gold into the sea than have it used to sully the name of Hawksworth with trade.’

‘Would you be willing to let me buy in? By the way, I think you and my sister are a pair, Captain. Honoria has chafed at the confines placed upon gently-born maidens the whole of her life. Always she’s wanted to have a man’s freedom, a man’s adventures. When you return to London to complete your negotiations, come see me. After all, if my sister is going to be living in a captain’s cabin, I’d better make sure the ship is top-of-the-line.’

‘You won’t object?’ Gabe asked, scarcely believing he could be hearing correctly.

‘No.’ Stanegate walked over and offered his hand. ‘You certainly don’t need it and probably don’t want it, but nonetheless I give you blessing. I wish you joy with my sister, Captain. She’ll lead you a merry dance.’

Dazedly, Gabe shook his hand. ‘Good luck to you, too, my lord. Did you find Hebden, by the way?’

Stanegate’s jaw tightened. ‘No. By the time my agents arrived at Bloomsbury Square, the house was deserted, the knocker already off the door. I intend to keep hunting. If he remains in England, I shall run him to ground.’

‘Good,’ Gabe said, nodding. Recalling Hebden’s strongly expressed sense of being an instrument of destiny, Gabe warned, ‘I don’t think he’s done yet.’

‘I’m afraid you are right,’ Stanegate replied, looking grim.

Just then Dickin’s sister Tamsyn walked in through the servant’s door and stopped short. ‘Captain Hawksworth!’ she cried, awe in her voice.

‘Miss Tamsyn,’ Gabe said, giving her a bow. ‘I’ve come to call upon Miss Marie. Will you tell her I’m here?’

‘She’s not in the house, Captain. She left not half an hour ago, walking toward the cliff path.’

Gabe glanced back at Stanegate. ‘I’ll see you later, my lord. It appears I’m going for a stroll.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

On a flat rock overlooking Sennlack Cove, Honoria sat, face to the brisk wind, Verity’s letter secured in both fists. Upon unfolding it and seeing the familiar script, she’d been struck by a wholly unexpected longing for her little sister, that paragon of perfection she’d so often found annoying when they occupied the same house. Something, Honoria recognized sadly, they were unlikely to ever do again, despite the wish Verity expressed in her letter that Honoria might soon return to them.

Verity missed Honoria acutely, she wrote, her intelligence, her wit and her insightful observations on the events and personages in London. As for the scandal, truly she had never heard overmuch about it, and nothing at all this last month.

Marcus had advised her to make no comment if anyone discussed it, and though he must know best—Honoria rolled her eyes at this—it had often been very hard to remain silent. Whatever reason her sister had for going to meet Lord Barwick, Verity knew it must have been a good one. If anyone wished to cut her acquaintance over the matter, she was quite willing that they do so, since if they wanted to condemn Honoria, Verity did not wish to know them anyway.

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