Page 29 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

‘Aye, they be not so bold when met by men armed to resist them,’ another cried.

‘Quick, gather round, men!’ the innkeeper of the Sloop and Gull called out. As the scattered group converged from around the churchyard—Miss Neville’s brother George among them—the innkeeper said, ‘Jake, take a group to the Black Prince moored at the cove, board it and retrieve any goods you find. The rest of you, grab your weapons and come with me. The cargo still ashore is most likely hidden up at Neville Tour. Let’s go take back our own!’

While the innkeeper gave orders, Greville went over to grab Neville by the arm. ‘What’s this nonsense? Surely you haven’t involved yourself in this.’

‘Not with Black John,’ the boy said. ‘But what’s the harm in helping out Rob Roy? Half the men in the county are here.’

‘Half the men in the county take the risk because they need the income. You’ve no such excuse—and your father a magistrate! When Lieutenant Belcher sees the noise and smoke coming from the churchyard, he’ll send a naval vessel back to investigate. You don’t need to be here when they come ashore.’

‘Aye, imagine they’re beating to land as we speak,’ Porter said. ‘Sound of firing carries a long way across the water.’

‘Hasn’t your sister enough to handle with your father ill and the whole household to manage, without worrying about you getting yourself hung at the crossroads?’ Greville demanded. ‘How would Lord Bronning feel if he learned his son had been arrested by preventatives, or shot dead by one of Black John’s men? Do you want to have to flee England, ruin your whole future, for a lark?’

‘I’m not stupid,’ Neville retorted, an angry flush on his face. ‘I care about my father and sister. I wouldn’t have risked staying here, but I couldn’t run from the fight like a coward.’

‘You acquitted yourself well, lad,’ the Sloop and Gull’s proprietor put in. ‘But this gentleman is right; Lord Bronning’s son best not be present if we have to tangle with the King’s officers. You’ll be lord here one day, though, and the men of the Devon coast won’t forget how you stood with us against Black John.’

Neville’s face flushed again. ‘Thank you, sir.’

With a nod, the innkeeper slung a Baker rifle over his shoulder and stuffed his pockets with powder and balls. ‘We must make all speed, if we are to catch those slimy villains before they can warn their leader and make good their escape.’

Greville turned to George. ‘Tell me you’ll see reason and head home now.’

The young man nodded reluctantly. ‘I hate not to finish the fight…but, yes, I’ll go back to Ashton Grove.’

‘Good,’ Greville said, clapping the lad on the shoulder. ‘There are better ways to occupy your time than worrying your relations. Take it from one who learned that bitter lesson well.’

‘Will you go with the men to Neville Tour?’ Porter asked.

Greville remembered the prickly feeling at the back of his neck the day Miss Holton had taken him to the Tour. Had there been smugglers there, hidden and watching them?

Althea also told him it had always been one of the girls’ favourite places. A sick feeling gathered in his stomach at the thought that either of the Ashton Grove ladies might stop at their old haunt and encounter the likes of Black John.

‘Yes, I’ll ride with them. Are you coming?’

‘Nay, I’ll head to the cove. Been a long time since I’ve boarded a vessel, cutlass in hand,’ Porter said, his face glowing with enthusiasm for the task.

Giving Greville a cheerful salute, he stumped off. Foreboding in his gut, Greville snatched up his own weapons and followed after the innkeeper.

In the shadows of Neville Tour, Amanda stood within the walls of a now-roofless building that might have once been a kitchen. Her jailor, one of the local farmers, his identity concealed by a mask, stood guard at the entrance.

Keeping his gaze fixed on Black John and the men assembled on the open ground of the bailey beyond, the masked farmer murmured, ‘So sorry you be caught up in this, miss. Weren’t no call for Black John to take you like that. You just hold fast. I’ll make sure no harm comes to ye, if I’ve got to take a bullet to stop him.’

‘Thank you. I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that.’

‘As do I, miss,’ he replied, a touch of amusement in his voice, despite the grim circumstances. ‘Once they finish the parlay, I’ll see if I can distract them and give you a chance to slip across the bailey. Your mare’s tethered just outside the entrance.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, grateful and fully cognisant of the danger in which the man placed himself by helping her. ‘I won’t forget your kindness.’

The farmer touched his fingers to his cap. ‘Don’t hold with harming women, surely not one of Lord Bronning’s own kin. He and his lady, your mama, been good to me and mine. Ah, they’re breaking council now. I’ll see what I can do, miss.’

As her sympathetic captor paced away, Amanda gave her small prison another assessing glance. She knew from her many explorations as a child there was no other way out but through the gate to the bailey, in which Black John and his compatriots now sat, drinking from a breached barrel of brandy.

What if the farmer couldn’t find some pretext to lure the ruffians away long enough for her to cross the open ground? A rising despair checked when she recalled that it wouldn’t be unusual for smugglers to have fashioned another entry into their stronghold, excavating out a portion of the curtain wall or even digging a tunnel beneath it, like one of the many that dotted the cliffs along the coast. Might Black John’s men have made some new breach in the walls of this structure?

While her heart thumped anxiously in her chest, she began a cautious circuit of the small chamber. Packed into the space, completely masking the walls, were a number of brandy tubs, with parcels stacked atop them that might contain anything from tobacco to French lace to China silk.

She tugged at a barrel, but couldn’t budge it an inch. Undaunted, she’d renewed her efforts, tugging and clawing at the heavy tub, when she heard the sound she’d been dreading.

‘Need a drink, sweetheart?’

She turned to find Black John standing at the doorway, a feral look in eyes. Trying to peer around him to locate her sympathetic guard, she said, ‘I’m waiting for you to come to your senses and release me. Abduction is a capital offence.’

He merely laughed. ‘And smuggling is not? If the prospect of the gibbet swayed me, I’d still be tending bar at Pa’s inn in Sennlach. Nay, I like a challenge. I think you’ll be one.’

Where was the farmer? she wondered while Black John spoke. Had he already made his move and been overcome?

Regardless, it didn’t appear he was in a position to help her now. She could either cower before her captor…or stand her ground.

The outcome would likely be the same in either event, but Amanda vowed she’d not submit meekly. ‘If you mean to lay hands on me, I’ll certainly resist.’

‘I like a lass with some spirit,’ he said, grinning. ‘So, girl, let’s see how much you have.’

He advanced on her. As soon as he was in range, Amanda swung hard, landing a blow that knocked him a bit off-balance. Panic giving wings to her feet, she used that instant to dart past him and race into the bailey.

Hampered by her skirts, she got only a few paces before a strong arm grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her around to face him.

‘Never ken a lady’d be handy with her fives,’ he said, a grudging respect in his tone. But any hope that respect would translate into his releasing her died as he dragged her close. ‘I think that bravery deserves a reward.’

Desperate with a fear that fuelled her strength, she pummelled at his chest with her fists. Growling, he crushed her against him, trapping her hands, and brought his mouth down on hers, his tongue jabbing at her firmly closed lips. The sharp smell of brandy and heated male filled her nostrils as he moved a hand down, tugging up the skirt of her habit.

Oblivious to the sudden shouts of the men around them, Black John didn’t release her until one of them pounded his shoulder. As he turned, snarling, his confederate cried, ‘Our men were attacked in Salters Bay. The whole damn village and half the men of the countryside were there, armed with pistols, shotguns and rifles. They’re on their way here now!’

Another cluster of men, one clutching a bleeding arm, ran up to them. ‘Leave the wench, damn it! We gotta grab what we can and go now, John. They’ve sent a separate party to try to seize the Black Prince.’

‘If we don’t get there quick, they may burn her to the waterline,’ another added. ‘With all that brandy aboard, she’d go up like a devil’s torch.’

To her immense relief, the brigand nodded. ‘All right, we secure the ship first, then come back here for any cargo we can’t carry. Jack, Harry, get those parcels of lace; Tilden, you take the tobacco. Spring it, boys!’

As his crew rushed off, he looked down at Amanda, whom he still held in an iron grip. ‘Don’t fret, sweetheart. I’ll be back for you later.’ Hauling him against her, he kissed her again, hard, before pushing her away and striding towards the road to the sea.

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