Sir Ashley's Mettlesome Match Read online

  ‘Perhaps they thought he would be biased in the prisoners’ favour,’ he said. ‘Especially if they were local men, known to him. On the other hand it might simply be that they were anxious to get back to their warm billets. There again, they would want to be sure they received their share of the prize money.’

  ‘Most of the contraband had left the beach by the time they turned up,’ she told him. ‘It was amazing how quickly the men scattered with their loads, leaving only the stragglers and a few kegs and bundles behind. I would be very surprised if they reached the Customs House…’

  ‘Tut, tut, Miss Kingslake, you are surely not suggesting the Customs men are corrupt,’ he said, but he was laughing.

  ‘The boats went back to the ship and it sailed away,’ she said, her own lips twitching. ‘How much was still on board, I could not say.’

  ‘We could probably calculate that if you can describe the ship and remember what you saw landed. If there was anything left on board, they will undoubtedly make another run.’

  ‘It was a cutter, but as to the cargo, I do not know if I can be accurate.’ She paused to frame her question, risking a rebuff. ‘What is your interest in smugglers, Sir Ashley? Are you a Revenue man?’

  He thought of telling her the truth about the Piccadilly Gentlemen, but decided against it. He had no idea how deeply she was involved in lawlessness. ‘No. I, like you, am an ordinary citizen curious about how law and order is maintained.’

  Her mind flew to Nat and Joe and the other village men. Smuggling was a crime punishable by death and yet all the coastal villages indulged in it. Wherever there was a suitable place to land and places to hide the goods until they could be taken inland and sold, men were prepared to risk their lives for the rich rewards on offer. People like Sir Ashley Saunders were a serious threat to them. ‘Did you come to Narbeach on purpose to catch smugglers?’ she asked, endeavouring to hide her dismay.

  ‘It is a huge and profitable business and is depriving the Exchequer of many thousands of pounds every year, Miss Kingslake,’ he said, evasively. ‘Its perpetrators are violent and not above murder and intimidation, as you, who live on the coast, must surely know.’

  He had not answered her question, but she let it go. ‘Yes, but some of the men are forced to join in for fear of reprisals on their families and, besides, the lure of money to a poor man with a wife and family to support is irresistible.’

  ‘I am aware of that, Miss Kingslake. But think of this. If there were no smugglers and everyone paid their proper dues, the country would be better off and that includes the poor man in his cottage, who would not be afraid of a knock on the door in the middle of the night.’

  She did not like the sound of that, not with Ben in the hands of the law and Nat missing, though she was careful not to let it show. ‘If you are not a Revenue man, then who are you?’ she asked. ‘I cannot imagine an ordinary citizen setting out to change the world single-handedly.’

  ‘Change has to begin somewhere.’

  She had to concede he was probably right, but her main concern was to protect Ben and Nat as far as she could. The fact that her companion was a handsome man with a ready smile, who made her heart flutter in a way it had not done for six years at least, was a distraction she must overcome. ‘Why Narbeach?’ she asked.

  He paused to turn and face her. She was looking somewhat anxious, which probably meant she knew some of the smugglers; it would be strange if she did not, living in the village as she did. And was her cousin as innocent as she pretended? ‘Why not? Narbeach is only one of many such places. Taken together, they represent a threat to the economy of whole country.’

  She was not prepared to argue that point and turned away from him to look out of the window at the countryside through which they were passing. On the inland side it was grazing land, dotted with cattle; on the seaward side the salt marshes were intersected by narrow channels of open water. Only local people dared venture on those, and she did not doubt there were hiding places for contraband in its creeks if you knew where to look. She was not thinking about the view or the contraband, but whether to consider Sir Ashley Saunders friend or foe. ‘Smuggling has been going on for centuries,’ she said. ‘You would have a challenge on your hands if you tried to put a stop to it. Others have tried and failed.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I think you would only cure them if you offered them an alternative way of earning a living that would take them out of dire poverty.’

  ‘I know that, too.’ He paused. ‘Enough of that. What about you?’

  ‘Me?’ She turned to face him. ‘I am no smuggler. They would not have me even if I wanted to become one. You need strong muscles and an even stronger determination and I have neither.’

  ‘You may be right about the muscles,’ he said with a smile, which she found unnerving. ‘But I am not so sure about the determination. What were you doing on the beach at night when all respectable and law-abiding ladies should be safely in their beds?’

  ‘Enjoying a midnight walk.’

  ‘Do you often do that?’ he asked mildly. ‘Or only when a cargo is coming in?’

  ‘I often do it,’ she said. ‘It helps me to think.’

  ‘Can you not think at home?’

  ‘Yes, but sometimes I cannot sleep and then it is best to go out and feel the wind on my face and see the moonlight shining like a silver ribbon on the water and the tide swirling about the rocky pools. It makes me feel humble and thankful for the life I have.’

  He would not describe her as humble and fancied that like most people of her colouring she had a fiery temper. ‘There was no moon last night.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were you not afraid when you saw what was happening on the beach?’

  ‘Not until the dragoons arrived and then I was fearful for the men.’

  ‘Did you know any of them?’

  ‘It was dark and I was not close enough to identify anyone.’

  ‘But you did recognise your cousin.’

  ‘He was brought close to where I was hiding.’

  ‘What does your aunt think of you going out at night? I assume you live with her.’

  ‘Not exactly. She lives with us.’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘My brother and me. It is my brother who is the householder.’

  So, she was not Mrs Whiteside’s companion as he had at first surmised. He found himself looking at her in a different light. ‘Where was he last night when you were out watching smugglers?’

  She was afraid he might ask that and was reluctant to tell him she did not know. He would undoubtedly jump to the conclusion that Nat was involved with the free traders and he might possibly be right. ‘He is away from home at the moment.’

  He was aware of her wariness in answering, but he did not pursue that line of enquiry. ‘And your parents?’

  ‘They were drowned in a boating accident nine years ago. Aunt Augusta moved in with us soon after that.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘She seemed to think we could not manage on our own.’

  ‘From what I have learned I can understand that,’ he said with a teasing smile. ‘If you make a habit of wandering about at night to help you think. Most ladies I know would be terrified of doing such a thing.’

  ‘Of thinking?’ she queried, laughing.

  He laughed, too. ‘That, too, but I meant walking out alone.’

  ‘Then the ladies you know must be mean-spirited.’

  He had not thought of that, but on reflection decided she was probably right. Even his mistresses obeyed the rules of convention. Arabella liked to pretend she was a lady, but Miss Kingslake, who undoubtedly was one, did not care. He wondered what had made her like that. ‘I begin to feel sorry for your aunt,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I know we are a handful, but she is very fond of us.’

  ‘Us being you and your brother?’

  ‘Yes. He is four years younger than I and took it very hard when Mama and Papa were drowned. I tried to look after him and,
if that meant being strong and independent, then that is what I was, what I am. We are very close.’

  ‘It is perhaps a pity that he is from home at the moment.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘He might have prevented Ben going to the beach last night.’

  ‘Am I right in supposing your cousin is always into mischief?’

  ‘He is fifteen years old, Sir Ashley—all young men of that age are into mischief. Ben has been somewhat spoiled by his mother, but there is not a malicious bone in him. I do hope you can persuade the magistrate of that.’

  ‘I shall do my best, when I have spoken to the boy.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, suddenly angry. ‘He must tell all he knows in exchange for his freedom. Don’t you know that turning King’s Evidence is as good as a sentence of death hereabouts?’

  ‘Smuggling is punishable by death—’

  ‘Innocent as he is, he cannot win,’ she stormed. ‘If the law doesn’t get him, the smugglers will. It is not fair and I shall make sure the world knows it. And don’t think I can’t.’ She was looking at him with such fury in her green eyes, he found his earlier question answered—this ginger cat had claws and he had better watch out.

  Her question had been answered too. Sir Ashley Saunders was almost certainly a foe. Her bitter disappointment in him made her want to weep. But she had not shed tears for over six years and no man, however attractive, was going to make her cry again. She turned her face resolutely from him and looked out at the countryside again.

  Chapter Two

  Ash had detected the moisture in her eyes, though it was disguised by anger. Until now she had been perfectly composed, answering his questions, apparently hiding nothing and unperturbed by his disclosure that he was on the side of the law. He had been prepared to believe that her young cousin had been innocent and he only wanted to speak to the boy to verify that, not to have him turn King’s Evidence. If the lad had simply gone down to the beach to watch, there was nothing he could tell him, certainly not the name of the real smugglers, the ones who paid for the goods and organised their sale. If they could be brought to book, the smuggling might be curtailed; he did not flatter himself he could bring it to an end. All this he had intended to explain to her, but before he could so, she had flared up like a glowing fire suddenly stirred into flame.

  In some strange way, her anger made her more attractive, not less, because under it he sensed a vulnerability he realised she would never admit. It made him feel protective towards her. But supposing she was involved with the smugglers—would he still want to defend her? It was a question he could not immediately answer.

  ‘I am sorry to find you in sympathy with lawbreakers,’ he said, probing.

  ‘I am not in sympathy with lawbreakers,’ she snapped. ‘How can I be when I have seen what they can do? They hanged a man on a homemade gibbet last year because he warned the Excise of a landing and as a result some of the free traders were caught red-handed. His body hung there for weeks as a warning to others. I do not want that to happen to Ben.’

  ‘Naturally you do not, but had you thought that travelling with me to visit a magistrate might be construed as informing? You were, after all, in a position to see what went on.’

  ‘I saw nothing that could be of any help to the Customs and Excise,’ she said. ‘Apart from Ben, I could not identify a single one of them. In any case, no one knew I was there. As far as the public is concerned, I am a simple female anxious to obtain the release of my innocent cousin.’

  ‘Why were you really on the beach?’ he demanded, smiling at the idea that she was simple. There was nothing simple about Miss Philippa Kingslake, except, perhaps, her clothes. He wondered why she had so little regard for her appearance. Most of the ladies of his acquaintance would not venture out unless they had spent at least two hours dressing in the latest mode and having their hair done and face covered in paint and powder.

  ‘I have told you. I often walk out at night.’

  ‘And do your smuggling friends know that?’

  ‘I have no smuggling friends. At least, none that I know of.’ There was a hint of a humour in her voice; she had evidently overcome her tears. ‘One can never tell who they are these days.’

  He smiled, too. ‘My involvement in securing your young relative’s release might also be misconstrued.’

  ‘Then I must face Lord Borrowdale alone. I will be broken-hearted, pleading for mercy for my cousin.’

  He laughed aloud. ‘Have you met his lordship?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He is not one to be swayed by broken hearts and feminine tears. He is famous for his harsh punishments. He takes a pride in them. Being even remotely associated with free traders will be enough to condemn you.’ He put his hand briefly over hers. ‘I think, my dear, you had best leave it to me.’

  She did not answer, not even to tell him she was not his dear, not his anything, because they were turning in at the gates of Lord Borrowdale’s country mansion and she needed to gather her wits for the confrontation to come.

  Ten minutes later she realised Sir Ashley’s summary of his lordship’s character had been correct when a very superior servant in full livery announced them and she found herself facing the man himself. He was a big man, both in height and breadth, with bushy brows and a full brown wig. His grey eyes surveyed her from top to toe, taking in her plain wool gown, her wild red hair and lack of a bonnet as if wondering how this person had had the effrontery to invade his house. She was glad of Sir Ashley’s steadying hand under her elbow.

  Ash had used his considerable reputation and standing in society to gain them admittance and was not going to let a little thing like the other’s superior rank intimidate him. He gave the man a flourishing bow. ‘Your servant, my lord.’

  ‘Sir Ashley.’ The bow was returned. ‘I have not seen you since your late lamented father went to his Maker. How many years ago was that?’

  ‘Ten, my lord.’ He turned and drew Pippa forwards. ‘May I present Miss Kingslake of Windward House, Narbeach.’

  Pippa gave him a curtsy. ‘My lord.’

  ‘Narbeach, you say?’ his lordship queried, taking his eyes from Pippa and turning to Ash. ‘There was a landing of contraband goods there last night and the Revenue alerted. All but seven of the devils got away, though.’

  ‘Six,’ Pippa said, resolutely. ‘The seventh was an innocent bystander.’

  ‘Innocent bystander!’ his lordship scoffed. ‘On the beach in the middle of the night when cargo is being brought ashore and you call that innocent!’

  She refused to be intimidated. ‘I do, my lord. He is but a child, full of childish curiosity. He simply followed the others down to the shore. He was never part of the illegal activities.’

  Ash nudged her. She turned to look at him. His eyes were telling her to be silent. She did not feel like obeying him; she wanted to scream and beat her fists upon the bigoted Lord Borrowdale’s chest and demand he set Ben free.

  ‘Sir Ashley does well to silence you,’ his lordship said. ‘You are incriminating yourself with every word you utter. How do you now what was in the muckworm’s mind unless you were party to it?’

  ‘Ben is not a muckworm! And I know his mind because I have known him since he was in leading strings.’

  ‘My lord, may I have a private word with you?’ Ash asked, gripping Pippa’s elbow so hard, she almost cried out. ‘I think I may be able to throw some light on the matter.’

  ‘Oh, very well, but make it quick. I am about to go out.’

  ‘Miss Kingslake, would you be so good as to wait in the carriage?’ Ash said. ‘I shall be but a moment.’

  Pippa was reluctant to obey. She wanted to hear what was being said. What could Sir Ashley tell his lordship which she did not know? But when a footman was summoned to escort her to the carriage, she was obliged to follow him from the room, her annoyance plain in her posture and the way she swept her skirt up in her hand and threw back her head.

  Ash watched
her go, smiling a little, then turned back to Lord Borrowdale. ‘Miss Kingslake is naturally upset. She is very fond of her cousin and cannot understand why he was taken up in the first place.’

  ‘He was with the smugglers. Good God, man! If I let off every young varmint whose females swore his innocence, no one would ever be arrested. How can you be sure she is telling the truth?’

  ‘I cannot,’ Ash admitted. ‘But if I could talk to the boy, I am sure I should learn something from him. I would deem it a favour if you would give him into my custody. I will undertake to see that he is dealt with according to the law.’

  ‘And what is your interest in smugglers? Not a Revenue man, are you?’

  ‘No.’ Ash smiled. ‘Have you ever heard of the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club, my lord?’

  ‘No. Are they a band of smugglers?’

  He laughed. ‘No, on the contrary, they are gentlemen dedicated to upholding the law of the land. They have been doing it for the last twelve years. I am one of them. We brought the O’Keefe gang of coiners to justice and the murderers, Black, Randle and Smith, not to mention putting a stop to a possible Jacobite rebellion. Wherever we see crime, particularly organised crime, we investigate it and bring the perpetrators to book.’

  ‘Don’t the Bow Street Runners do that?’

  ‘To a certain extent, yes, but their force is small, their resources limited, and they rarely operate outside London. We are a roving band and go where we are needed and we have access to people and places denied to the Runners.’

  ‘I understand that, but why Piccadilly?’

  ‘The headquarters of the Society is there at Lord Trentham’s home. You may check my credentials with his lordship, if you wish. As a member of the government he is particularly interested in combatting smuggling.’

  ‘But you are asking me to release one of my prisoners—surely not the action of a law-abiding citizen?’