Page 10 of Secrets of a Duke’s Heart (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #25)

CHAPTER TEN

“G one?”

Clarissa had spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about all the things she wanted to say to Jude. Revising them, then discarding them altogether, only to decide a few minutes later that she absolutely must speak her mind, then change it again when courage failed her.

Thus, she awoke late and chose the coward’s option to take a breakfast tray in her room instead of going down for a communal meal. By the time she had summoned the fortitude to make an appearance, Mr. Montague had already left.

Her stomach sank. Now she was going to have to stew in this emotional cauldron until his return.

“A messenger arrived early with news of his niece. He left right away,” said Mrs. Gosling, Nathaniel’s housekeeper. In her white cap and apron, she bore an uncanny resemblance to the white geese that guarded Cavalier Cove.

“I pray they have found the poor girl,” she muttered, her mind spinning. “Mrs. Gosling, may I ask you something?” The older woman looked at her expectantly. “Is my cousin engaged in the trade? You know. Smuggling.”

The tiniest flare of surprise in the housekeeper’s eyes sent an electric current up her spine. But the woman demurred.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said. “Whatever talk you’ve heard about his visits to London is just that. Talk. Nothing more. The local gossips have little excitement to speculate about, I’m afraid.”

“I see. If one did wish to find out more about the smuggling trade in Cavalier Cove, where would I start?”

“The Cock and Bull would be a fine place to start asking, if one was so inclined. But don’t expect anyone to give a straight answer to an outsider.”

“Right back to where we began,” sighed Clarissa at the woman’s retreating back. At that moment, Mr. Montague burst in with a furious young woman she didn’t recognize.

“I told you he is innocent!” she shouted.

“How can you say that, Harriet? That rogue stole you! He kidnapped you in broad daylight. Tossed you over his shoulder and took you like a prize pig.”

“A charming description, Uncle Monty.” The girl’s hair was blond and disheveled, her dress askew and freckles dotted her reddened cheeks. Her hazel eyes snapped with fury.

“Are you saying you coordinated this?” Jude’s hair looked like he’d been pulling it by the roots for hours. It stood in a tangled halo around his head. Gray smudges lurked beneath his haunted eyes. Clarissa’s heart twinged with pity. Wrecked and haunted, he speared her with a furious glare before continuing to press his niece. “If you didn’t want to marry Lord Lucarran, you had weeks to speak up! When we left Acton Heath you were sure this was the right course. Now what am I supposed to tell him?”

She had never heard him sound so angry. The name Acton Heath sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite place it, and it was hardly relevant right now.

“I didn’t know there was another option open to me until I met Rémy,” Harriet exclaimed. “Where is he?”

“Prescott and the Riders are taking him to the wine cellar. There’s an unused cage they can use as a cell.”

“Which way is it?” Harriet cast about.

“I can show you, Miss Turner, if your uncle agrees.” An awkward silence descended over them.

“I do not,” he said stiffly.

“I had gathered. Perhaps both of you ought to freshen up and have something to eat before you continue this conversation?” She pressed her palm to her chest and said, “I am Clarissa Penfirth. You must be Mr. Montague’s niece.”

“It’s lor?—”

“Enough,” Montague cut her off with a sharp look. Harriet glared. He tugged her close, firmly but not roughly, and whispered in her ear. She nodded once, her expression turning pensive.

“Yes, I am Harriet Turner,” she mumbled.

Peculiar. Not only was Jude concealing something, his niece was apparently in on the secret. Were they engaged in the trade, too? That would explain so much.

“Miss Penfirth, if I may be so bold as to request your aid as a woman to ensure my niece is unharmed, I would be grateful for your assistance. I have a smuggler to interrogate and an urgent message to post,” said Jude. He strode away without waiting for her confirmation.

Goodness, he could be abrupt and arrogant.

Harriet ducked her chin as if whatever her uncle had said left her chastened. Puzzled, Clarissa took her arm and led her away.

“I don’t want to marry Lucarran,” she said despondently.

“Might I inquire why? Forgive my inquisitiveness. I have heard so much about you these past few days, I feel as though I already know you. I understand entirely that you don’t feel the same way about me.”

“I don’t love him. The things Rémy told me about the earl while I was his…captive…made me realize I cannot go through with the ceremony. I simply can’t.”

Her hands twisted continually as if stillness were not to be borne. Her despondency was belied by a flicker of anxious intensity. Clarissa’s heart went out to her. Harriet was like a trapped bird fluttering inside a locked cage.

“Might the smuggler have had a reason to tell you half-truths or outright lies?” she asked gently. “You are a pretty girl. He wouldn’t be the first scoundrel to try his hand at seducing a young lady by any means necessary.”

He had, after all, kidnapped Harriet. Scrupulous honesty wasn’t exactly this French smuggler’s foremost trait.

“No,” Harriet insisted, shaking her head. “He told me the truth when no one else would. I hardly knew Lucarran, but I had the impression of him that he was self-centered and harsh-tempered, with little regard for women. If not for Uncle Monty’s recommendation, I would never have said yes.”

“I find it difficult to believe that no other man offered for you.”

“The ton is competitive. They don’t call it the marriage mart for nothing. Men choose women based upon money, family connections, looks, and personality. In that order.”

Clarissa chuckled. “Well put. Sadly, I agree. I know the pain of being on the shelf intimately.”

“You?”

“Yes, me.”

“But Uncle Monty?—”

“He is charming in his way,” she interrupted firmly. “We have worked closely together these past several days. I have had a chance to get to know him a bit. In spite of his gruffness and propensity for keeping secrets, I enjoy your uncle’s company. I also know when I am being humored, not courted.”

A sick feeling sank like a stone in her stomach. Last night, he’d been willing to show her passion, but just as she had feared, in the bracing glare of daylight, he was embarrassed by her. She had been a fool to hope otherwise.

“Miss Penfirth, with all due respect, I believe you are being obtuse. On the ride back here, all my uncle could talk about was how quickly he and that odious Leacham character could get Rémy into the hangman’s noose, and you. How intelligent and wise you are. What good character and cheerful spirit you displayed under trying circumstances. If we are exchanging confidences despite being near-strangers, I believe my uncle is more serious about you than he ever has been about a woman in his life.”

Clarissa couldn’t believe her burning ears. “We can discuss your uncle’s matrimonial plans once yours are sorted,” she said, leading her guest into an empty room that had been waiting for Harriet’s arrival for days. “In the meantime, let’s get you cleaned up.”

* * *

While Harriet bathed, Clarissa tried to make herself useful by visiting the captured smuggler in Nathaniel’s wine cellar. She found her way blocked by one of the Riders, who gave her a lewd once-over that left her feeling like a film of dirt clung to her skin.

“The sooner those cretins are out of our hair, the better,” she muttered, giving up on her attempt to visit the prisoner. For now.

“Which cretins?”

“Nathaniel! You scared me.” Clarissa’s heart pounded. “These Waterguardsmen. I don’t like them.”

“I doubt anyone likes paying taxes, never mind the obscene rates set by the King to restore his coffers.”

“If the money went to improving the lives of ordinary English citizens, I suspect the people wouldn’t be so quick to thumb their noses at the law. Including…you, cousin?”

He froze, then shook his head. “I should have known better than to think I could outwit you.”

“How long have you been smuggling?”

“I don’t, honestly. I’m more of a fence. Mrs. Gosling coordinates the goods smuggled into Cavalier Cove through the sea caves and stairs cut into the cliffs. Mr. Davies sells some stock in his Emporium. The rest I take to London every fortnight or three weeks and deliver them to yet another middleman, who forges the excise stamps and passes them off to a warehouse. Shopkeepers buy them in bulk, none the wiser.”

“How long has this been going on?”

He scratched the back of his head absently. “Ever since I came to Cornwall. I was desperate, Clarissa. I had no money, no prospects. Everything was falling apart. A household of servants I had only just met were depending on me to find a way to turn things around. Your family was looking to me for help. The ordinary solution of marrying an heiress was hardly practical. I was as new to the marriage mart as you were, and none of the wealthy highborn families would so much as glance at me, title or no.”

“They are an insular group,” Clarissa agreed. “But aren’t you worried about being caught?”

“It’s crossed my mind a few times. I want to get out of this, but if I do, I lose a connection with the villagers. They could turn me in to save themselves.”

“You might have considered that before going down this path.” She sighed. “What’s done is done. I will keep your secret, of course. Now that they have their smuggler, the Waterguard will hopefully take their win and leave us alone.”

“I don’t have much hope of that. Leacham will have won his promotion at last, but as long as there are tariffs, there will be smuggling in Cornwall. Which means there will be Riders patrolling the shore.”

“They wouldn’t stop and search a viscount’s coach,” she said with more certainty than she felt.

“I have been banking on that idea for years,” he said ruefully. “I am searching for a way to get out of this with my dignity intact. I need a little while longer.”

“I shall help you evade the law in any way I can,” she promised. “You’ve done so much for the Penfirths. We owe you, even if the rest of my family doesn’t know how much.”

He tugged her into an embrace. “You’ve always been my favorite cousin, Clarissa. You deserved better than what you got on the marriage mart. I hope you and Montague can come to an agreement.”

“Never mind that,” she said briskly, pulling away after giving Nathaniel a quick squeeze. “It’s nice to know I have your approval, but I cannot marry a man I barely know. Especially when he keeps so many secrets.”

“He still hasn’t told you?” her cousin asked.

“Told me what?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head tiredly and scrubbed his face as if the weight of the world sat upon his shoulders. “I’m sure he has his reasons, though I think he’s being a fool.”

“I had better go and check on Miss Turner,” she said, keen to avoid further speculation. If Mr. Montague were a smuggler, then he might not be as wealthy as she had believed. Yet if he wasn’t, how had he made a match for Harriet with an earl?

Nothing was adding up.

“How is she?” Nathaniel interrupted her thoughts.

“Unharmed and in love with her scallywag. She insists she won’t marry Lucarran.”

“That will be a blow to Montague.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Whose side will you take?”

“Hers, obviously. It’s her life. Her wedding. Not his.”

“You aren’t worried that she wants to throw over an earl for a lowborn smuggler?”

“Frankly, it sounds like the earl was willing to marry Miss Turner out of pity and avarice for her dowry, despite her low birth. Why should the title matter more than love?”

“I never thought you were a romantic.”

“I am, though. The only reason to marry is for true affection and respect. If one does not have those, all the money in the world won’t make up for it.” She ducked her chin to hide a wry smile and scuffed her slipper on the floor. “Or at least, that’s what I tell myself to salvage my pride after the way I was thrown over by Bertram.”

“I fear I have no choice in the matter. I never asked for a title. I was glad to have it at first. But now, ten years in and still struggling to get my feet under me financially…” He trailed off. “It’s past time I accepted reality and started looking for an heiress. Any heiress will do. If you have any recommendations, please feel free to make an introduction.”

“Alas, all my previous acquaintances have abandoned me to my lonely spinsterhood. Even if one had all the money in the world, I would not recommend her to my favorite cousin. You deserve a wife who lights up every time she looks at you, the way Harriet does when she’s talking about her French smuggler.”

“The way you perk up whenever you hear Montague’s name,” Nathaniel said softly.

“But he doesn’t react the same way when he hears mine.” Clarissa gave him a quick, sad smile and began walking away. This conversation was too heartfelt and too heavy. She couldn’t help but overhear her cousin’s parting question, however.

“Are you sure about that, or are you too afraid of getting hurt again to notice?”