Sir Ashley's Mettlesome Match Page 10

  She could not make him out. If it were not for his interest in smugglers, she would have been wildly attracted to him. No, there was no ‘would have’ about it, she was attracted to him. He drew her towards him with his gentleness, his humour, his apparent understanding and acceptance of who and what she was, his sheer physical presence. And yet, on his own admission, he had had many mistresses and preferred those to having a wife. That should have repelled her, but it did not. Considering what he had told her about his childhood, it did not surprise her. The women in his life had never lasted. She supposed he had come to mistrust the whole of her sex.

  Her reverie was interrupted when Teresa came in and announced Sir Felix. He was the last person she wanted to see and she was tempted to say she was not at home, but he was already in the doorway, coming towards her, both hands outstretched. ‘My dear, Miss Kingslake, forgive my intrusion, but I simply had to come and see how you did,’ he said, grabbing one of her hands in both of his. ‘Such good news about your young cousin, is it not?’ He stopped in full flow to give her a belated bow.

  She curtsied, indicating to Teresa she should stay in the room. ‘Sir Felix, good morning. Do sit down.’ She waved him to a chair as far from the sofa as she dared. ‘I am afraid my aunt is not at home.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said, lifting up his coat skirts and making himself comfortable in the chair. She was not going to be easily rid of him. ‘Sir Ashley has acquainted me with his plans. It is to be hoped that nothing goes awry with them or you might be wishing I had dealt with your cousin. I could easily have acquitted him and am distressed to think you did not trust me enough.’

  ‘We did not wish to embarrass you, Sir Felix,’ she said, thinking quickly. ‘We felt it might make others think you too soft or showing favouritism. After all, is that not why you agreed to Sir Ashley going to Wells on your behalf? Once he had become involved, it would have been discourteous to turn down his offer of help.’

  ‘True,’ he said. ‘But are you quite sure you can trust Sir Ashley? We none of us know him well and we do not know the real reason he came to Narbeach, do we?’

  ‘I felt sure you knew, Sir Felix. Did he not tell you?’

  ‘Oh, he gave me some cock-and-bull tale about tracking down some smugglers.’

  ‘Do you not believe him?’

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows? He certainly seems interested in your young cousin. Will Benjamin tell him what he wants to know, do you think?’ He paused to look closely at her.

  ‘If Sir Ashley hopes for information from Ben, he will be disappointed. Ben knows nothing, not even who the other men were, though one may assume they are men from about this area.’

  She was not sure, but she thought he seemed relieved. ‘That is not the reason I called,’ he said quickly. ‘The vicar has decided to give a little supper party. He wanted to invite Sir Ashley and though I told him the gentleman was away, he has decided to go ahead without him. He has invited me and bade me give you this.’ He brought his hand from his pocket and flourished a folded paper.

  She took it from him and opened it. The note was written in the vicar’s untidy scrawl, inviting her to supper the next evening. ‘Oh, I am not sure,’ she said, dubiously.

  ‘Pray, do say you will come. I will fetch you in my carriage and bring you safely home afterwards. There can be nothing said against that, surely? And you will disappoint the vicar and Mrs Fearson if you do not go.’

  She still hesitated; Sir Felix was becoming more and more of a nuisance and she would have loved to give him a set down, but while Nat was missing she dare not risk his anger. He might shut his eyes to the smuggling, might even accept smuggled goods, but he was, after all, a magistrate and he could make life very difficult for her family if he chose. ‘Very well,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I am delighted,’ he said, springing to his feet for all his corpulence and rushing to kiss her hand. ‘I will fetch you at half past seven.’

  As soon as he had gone, Pippa turned to the maid. ‘You will come too, Teresa. If Sir Felix thinks I will travel even three miles alone in his company, he is mistaken. An unmarried lady needs a chaperone.’

  She was ready when he arrived; if he was annoyed to find Teresa dressed ready to accompany her mistress, he did not show it. He escorted them both to his carriage and got in beside them and they set off at a spanking trot. Pippa noticed the village was deserted and the shutters of the houses were closed. There was no noise coming from the Cross Keys either. This silence could mean only one thing: later that evening, when everyone who could put a stop to it were safely in the Reverend Fearson’s dining room, last night’s contraband would be fetched from its many hiding places and taken inland under guard. And once again, Sir Ashley was elsewhere at the crucial time. She wondered if it were deliberate or simply coincidence.

  As they passed the church she thought she saw movement in the porch. It was no more than a fleeting shadow of a man dressed in dark clothes, but it made her wonder if the church was being used to hide some of the contraband and if the vicar knew about it. Was the whole village in collusion? Even Sir Felix? Was she the only one left out? Was tonight’s supper party intended to keep her away from the action? Whose idea had that been?

  She had no answers and, as they were drawing up at the vicarage door, was obliged to put her questions to one side, to be sociable for the rest of the evening.

  The Reverend Mr Fearson had been the incumbent at All Saints for many years and Pippa was on good terms with him and especially with his wife. They often worked together to ameliorate the plight of the poor in the village. She was made heartily welcome while Teresa was ensconced in the kitchen quarters to have supper with the servants after the party had been served.

  ‘We are but a small gathering,’ the reverend said, as he led the way into the drawing room where a servant dispensed sherry wine. Doctor Witherspoon and his wife were there and Captain Lovechild of the dragoons with his wife. They rose and exchanged greetings.

  ‘Do sit down, everyone,’ the vicar said. ‘I am sorry Sir Ashley is not with us. My wife was looking forward to hearing the London gossip and news of the latest fashions. Sir Felix tells us he is an authority on the subject.’

  ‘I believe he is knowledgeable on many subjects,’ Pippa said, accepting a glass of wine.

  ‘I hear you visited his home,’ Mrs Fearson put in.

  ‘Yes, very briefly on the way to and from Norwich. It is very fine.’

  ‘I am agog to hear all about it. Do describe it to us.’

  Pippa obliged, keeping her description of Fairfields strictly factual: the number and size of the rooms, the hangings, furniture and decorations, all of which was lapped up by her listeners. By the time she had finished, a servant announced supper and they lined up to go into the dining room.

  They all knew each other well and there was no shortage of discourse during the excellent meal, but Pippa could feel a tension in the air, a feeling that the conversation covered something else, as if they were waiting and listening for something to happen, that if there was a sudden explosion, none of them would be surprised. There was no explosion and no undue noise, except the chatter in the room and the clatter of plates and when the meal finished the ladies retired to the withdrawing room for tea, leaving the men to their brandy. Pippa noted, with amusement, there was no shortage of either commodity. On reflection she realised the same could be said of the Manor. Those who were supposed to be examples of rectitude saw nothing wrong in dealing with smugglers even if they did not take part in the activity. Her smile was rueful; knowing Nat was a smuggler, she had little doubt their own tea had not had duty paid on it. The pot could not call the kettle black.

  The men joined them after a short while and they entertained each other with poetry and song and the evening came to an end. It had been a pleasant diversion and had taken Pippa’s mind off her problems temporarily, but another cropped up when they were on their way home. Sir Felix instructed his coachman to take them to the Manor.


  ‘Sir Felix, it is much too late for calling,’ Pippa protested when she realised where they were heading.

  ‘Not too late for a nightcap, surely?’ he said. ‘There is something I want particularly to ask you.’

  ‘Can it not wait until tomorrow?’

  ‘It could, but we are here now and I have been looking forward to it all evening.’

  The carriage had stopped and he got out to hand her down. ‘Wait there for your mistress,’ he commanded Teresa, who was preparing to get out.

  Pippa’s heart sank. She had an idea what was coming and was not looking forward to having to turn him down. She did not think he would react well.

  He ushered her into the drawing room where both were taken by surprise, one with ill-concealed delight, the other with a scowl. Sir Ashley was lounging on a sofa, reading a newspaper.

  Chapter Five

  Ash put the paper down and stood up to bow to her. ‘Miss Kingslake, your obedient. Sir Felix, good evening.’

  ‘Evening,’ Sir Felix said. ‘I did not expect you back so soon.’

  ‘I could not stay away. Narbeach is such an interesting place, it draws me back—’

  ‘My aunt and cousin,’ Pippa put in. ‘Are they well?’

  ‘Happily ensconced, ma’am. Ben has given me his word he will not attempt to leave, while his case is pending, so I felt free to return. There are other matters to attend to.’

  ‘Then do not let us keep you from them,’ Sir Felix said.

  Ash looked at Pippa, who was standing behind Sir Felix and slowly shaking her head. He smiled. ‘They can wait until tomorrow. How did the party go? I am sorry I could not be there.’

  ‘It went the way of most supper parties,’ Sir Felix said grumpily. ‘Food not bad, wine better…’

  ‘And the conversation?’

  ‘Inconsequential.’

  ‘So you did not discuss the smugglers?’

  ‘Why should we discuss them? The ladies are nervous enough without bringing those gentlemen’s antics to the supper table.’

  ‘I do not think Miss Kingslake is of a nervous disposition,’ Ash said, smiling at her and noting the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘Heart of a lion, she has. Take care you do not come within range of her claws.’

  ‘I think it is time I went home,’ she said hurriedly. ‘If you will excuse me, gentlemen.’

  ‘But you have not had the nightcap I promised you,’ Sir Felix complained.

  ‘I think I have had enough wine for one night,’ she said, moving towards the door.

  ‘Then I will accompany you and bring the carriage back.’

  Ash, pretending to go back to his newspaper, saw her look back towards him as Sir Felix followed her out, but he gave no sign of it.

  He waited until they had gone and then hastily left the room to go after them. By crossing the headland at a run, he was at Windward House as the carriage drew up. From the shelter of the stable door, he watched as Sir Felix handed Pippa out, ready to intervene if he became troublesome. But then a maid also emerged from the coach and the two women went into the house and left Sir Felix to return to his carriage and drive away. Ash chuckled to himself; Miss Kingslake was no fool.

  He walked back more slowly, still smiling. His amusement was with himself as much as anyone. He was behaving like a lovesick calf, imagining Miss Kingslake needed or appreciated his concern for her or that she needed his protection against Sir Felix. But she had looked prodigiously relieved to see him back and she had been shaking her head. He had done what he could for her cousin, but then her cousin was a naive boy. Would she be so happy to see him if he was instrumental in having her brother arrested? How could he resolve that dilemma without incurring her fury? It was extraordinary how much he wanted to keep her good opinion of him.

  Pippa was not surprised when he called on her the following afternoon. She had managed to write a few pages, but the work was not going well and she was glad of the interruption. Bidding him be seated, she sent for refreshments, and on this occasion she did not ask Teresa to stay in the room.

  ‘Sir Ashley, please tell me how my aunt goes on,’ she said, when they were both seated with a cup of tea in their hands.

  ‘She is in the best of spirits and insisting on helping the cook and housekeeper—to pay for bed and board, she says. It is not at all necessary, but I have told them to humour her if it makes her happy.’

  ‘And Ben?’

  ‘Ben has been put to work in the stables and I have told my head groom not to spare him. He needs a spell of hard work to knock the notion that smugglers are romantic, gentlemanly vagabonds out of his system.’

  Pippa smiled. ‘You do not hold with romance, sir?’

  ‘In the right place, given the right circumstances, it can be a thing of wonder and beauty, but when it deceives, there is nothing worse in the world.’

  ‘And you, I collect, are an authority on the subject,’ she said. ‘You fall in love at least once a month.’

  He laughed. ‘I deserved that.’

  ‘Have none of your loves lasted longer?’

  ‘One or two have been with me half a year.’

  ‘You, sir, are a rake.’

  ‘I know it,’ he said, with a sigh.

  ‘When you parted from them, who deceived whom in the end?’ she queried. ‘I ask out of professional curiosity, you understand.’

  ‘Is that what you do? Put your lovers in a book, I mean.’

  ‘But you are not my lover,’ she said, setting her cup and saucer down on the table at her side to give her hands something to do, careful not to let it rattle and betray her nervousness.

  ‘Alas, no, but tell me, if I were, would you put me in your book?’

  This conversation was bizarre, Pippa thought, and becoming stranger by the minute. It was as if they were talking in code. Later, perhaps, she might be able to untangle it. At the moment, she was more concerned with not allowing him to put her to the blush and to succeed in that, she must trade repartee with him. It was a kind of contest. ‘I might.’

  ‘Hero or villain?’

  ‘Now that would depend on the plot and whether you are a true gentleman or a rake.’

  ‘Ah, we are back to that.’

  ‘I meant in my story, of course.’

  He glanced over to her desk where her writing things were scattered: sheets of paper, a pot of ink, several quills and a small knife. ‘And this one is about smugglers?’

  ‘Yes, that is the idea.’

  ‘But it is also a romance?’

  ‘Of course. You said yourself—where would we be without it?’

  ‘I should not like to be the villain,’ he said softly. ‘Is it possible for a rake to reform, do you suppose?’

  She had a feeling they were no longer talking about the book, but he had to be answered, if she were not to lose the contest. ‘He could,’ she said, pretending to think about it. ‘But it would depend on how sincere he was. If he was only pretending to reform in order to lull the heroine into trusting him, then he would have to end up being the villain.’

  ‘But supposing he has a very good reason for doing what he does?’

  ‘Can you give me one?’

  ‘Honour, perhaps. A secret he must keep because it is not his to divulge.’

  ‘He does not trust the heroine?’ she suggested.

  ‘Perhaps he is not sure of her allegiance.’

  She laughed, taking his empty cup from him and putting it down beside her own. ‘I think, Sir Ashley, you had better write my book for me, you are so full of ideas.’

  ‘Oh, no, Miss Kingslake, I do not have your talent. I look forward to reading it when it is published.’

  ‘It never will be at this rate,’ she said. ‘I have hardly had more than an hour or two at my desk in the last four days.’

  ‘Yes, but think of all the material you have gathered in that time.’

  ‘Material I cannot use. It is too close to home.’

  She knew, as soon as the words were uttere
d, that she had made a mistake. She saw a light in his eyes which could only be triumph and this was borne out when he spoke. ‘Because of your brother’s involvement?’

  ‘My brother, sir?’ she snapped, angry with herself.

  ‘Yes. You were not on the beach doing research four nights ago, nor, I suspect, looking out for your cousin. You were searching for your brother.’

  ‘No, sir, I was not,’ she said with perfect truth. At the time of the first landing she had not known Nat was missing. ‘My brother is a man full grown and I am not his keeper.’

  ‘But he has disappeared and you do worry about him. Is that not true?’

  She stood up, angry with him, but more annoyed with herself for falling so easily into his snare. ‘You are despicable, sir. That was a foul trick to play.’

  Because she had risen, he was obliged to stand himself. ‘I never intended to trick you, Miss Kingslake. You debate so prettily and I was simply enjoying the cut and thrust of it.’

  Tall as she was, he was several inches taller and she found herself having to tilt her head up to look at his face, but if she did not, he would think she was cowed and she was certainly not that. ‘Yes, you did. You lulled me into thinking we were talking about books, when all the time…’ She could not finish. She knew she had lost that particular contest and betrayed her weakness into the bargain. How stupid she had been! ‘But I was talking about books. It was you who diverted the subject.’

  ‘You trapped me into it!’

  He reached out and took her shoulders in his hands. ‘Be easy, Pippa, I would be your friend, believe me. I want to help you. Have I not proved it?’

  She ignored his use of her pet name. ‘Yes, but now you have spoiled it.’

  ‘And for that I am heartily sorry.’ He still had hold of her shoulders; though she seemed to be calmer, he did not release her. ‘Please say you forgive me.’ It was said so penitently she could only nod.

  He led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. ‘Now let us talk about your brother in a spirit of trust and friendship. I can see you are very worried about him, there is no use denying it, and I might be able to help.’