‘You believe in love overcoming all, then?’ Pippa asked.

‘Of course. Without it the world would be a poorer place.’

‘Have you ever fallen in love?’

‘My dear, I do it all the time. At least once a month.’

‘Now you are roasting me.’ ‘Perhaps.’

‘What other attributes?’ she continued.

‘Why, she must be good-natured, generous, sympathetic to others, well-read, able to converse properly without simpering, and she must love me, of course.’

‘And have you found such a one?’

‘No. Which is why, once a month, I am disappointed.’

‘Perhaps you do not come up to the ladies’ expectations. Have you thought of that?’

AUTHOR NOTE

SIR ASHLEY’S METTLESOME MATCH is the fourth in my series about law and order in Georgian times. Each has a hero dealing with a different crime. Sir Ashley is concerned with smuggling, and of course Pippa, my heroine, is mixed up in it—albeit innocently. The idea came to me when I was reading The Lawless Coast by Neil Holmes, which deals specifically with the trade on the north Norfolk coast. Smuggling was not the romantic pastime that many imagine, and many tried to thwart the smugglers at their peril. If duty conflicted with love it became even more difficult—as Sir Ashley discovers. I hope you enjoy reading it.

If you would like to find out about the other novels in this series, or any of my books, visit my website: www.marynichols.co.uk

SIR ASHLEY’S

METTLESOME

MATCH

Mary Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Born in Singapore, MARY NICHOLS came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, school secretary, information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children, and four grandchildren.

Previous novels by the same author:

RAGS-TO-RICHES BRIDE

THE EARL AND THE HOYDEN

CLAIMING THE ASHBROOKE HEIR

(part of The Secret Baby Bargain) HONOURABLE DOCTOR, IMPROPER ARRANGEMENT THE CAPTAIN’S MYSTERIOUS LADY* THE VISCOUNT’S UNCONVENTIONAL BRIDE* LORD PORTMAN’S TROUBLESOME WIFE*

*Part of The Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club mini-series

Chapter One

The night was inky black and the wind, coming off the German Ocean, was biting into Pippa’s bones, numbing fingers and toes and making her huddle into her cloak and wish herself back home and in the warm. The summer, coming on top of the worst winter anyone could remember when the rivers and even the sea froze, was wet and cold. It was a foolish idea to come out. The sea was rough; huge breakers were rolling up to the sandbanks just off the shore, so perhaps they would not land, or she might have been mistaken in thinking that there was going to be a delivery in Narbeach this night. The signs had all been there earlier in the day: everyone whispering and hurrying home after evensong; no one showing any lights; dogs chained up, stable doors left unlocked and a ship hove to half a mile out to sea. It was a beautiful vessel, long and sleek, rigged fore and aft with a long bowsprit to take a jib sail, intended to outrun the revenue cutters. Now the sails were furled and it was simply a dark outline against the horizon.

She wanted to witness a landing, to watch the cargo being brought ashore, to find out where they hid it and how many men were involved. What could she learn that reading the reports of smuggling trials in the news sheets would not tell her? she asked herself. The atmosphere of the landing, she supposed, which dry-as-dust accounts could not give: the drama and tension, the sheer volume of goods piled up on the beach, the essence of danger, which she had to feel in order to convey it in writing. But if she were seen …

She pulled her dark hood over her head and huddled even farther into her cloak, crouching down behind a sand dune, as much to shelter from the wind as to hide herself. If she were seen and accosted, they would not hesitate to kill her. They had too much at stake to let her live.

As she watched she heard the jingle of harness and the rumble of wheels on the lane behind her and threw herself down into the sand and prayed they would pass by without noticing the dark heap almost at their feet. She dare not look up and expose her pale complexion, which would easily be seen even on so dark a night. From beneath her shadowing arm, she could just see their feet as they passed, leading horses and carts down onto the beach. There were dozens of them, silently tramping past the spot where she lay. No one spoke, not even a whisper.

At last they were gone and she risked lifting her head. The beach, which a few minutes before had been empty, was swarming with men, pack mules, horses and carts. It seemed as if the whole male population of the village was there. Someone struck a flint and lit a lantern and swung it to and fro. It was answered insimilar fashion from the darkened ship. Now everyone was facing seawards and Pippa dared to stand up and watch. Two boats were lowered and two men scrambled down into each to receive and stow the goods being slung down to them in nets. She could not see what the cargo was, but when the boats were riding low in the water the oarsmen began pulling for the shore.

When the boats were within wading distance, those on the beach went to help haul them out. Almost before they grounded, the unloading began. Soon the sand was littered with kegs, barrels, boxes and bundles and the boats went back for a second load. The carts were filled and some of the kegs were roped in pairs and slung, fore and aft, on the shoulders of the strongest men. Stooping under their weight, they made their way inland past Pippa. It was time to fling herself down on the sand again.

The boats returned from the ship and more contraband was deposited on the beach, put in carts or slung on backs. They had unloaded each boat three times when a single warning shot rang out. The men on the beach had been working quickly before, but now there was desperation in their movements. The rowers set off back to their ship, leaving the land party to salvage what they could and make themselves scarce. Some of them carried what they could inland, or on to the marshes to the east of the village, others whipped up the horses and left with carts only half-loaded. There were still a few men on the beach when a party of dragoons, led by a Captain and a Customs Officer, appeared on the lane and began firing on the stragglers, who fired back. Pippa, her heart in her mouth, watched the skirmish, her frozen toes forgotten. She dare not move.

Some were injured and were hauled away by their mates, others ran, dodging the bullets. One of the dragoons was winged, resulting in a more frenzied attack of retribution. It was too much for the remaining smugglers and they threw down their weapons. As Pippa watched they were roped together none too gently by their captors. There were six of them and a boy. Some of the dragoons stayed to guard what contraband had been left behind, others marched the prisoners off the beach, prodding them with their riding crops to hurry them along. It was then Pippa recognised her cousin, Benjamin, dressed in a dark belted tunic and breeches, his face smeared with dirt. Fifteen years old and he had been caught smuggling! Her first impulse was to rush out and try to reason with his guards, but common sense prevailed. She would not save him that way and might very well be taken up herself. She watched them go, unable to move until the coast was clear. Then she ran.

Hampered by her skirts, she raced up the lane and along the coastal path to Windward House, which stood on a slight promontory at the north-eastern edge of the village. She must find Nat. Her brother would know what to do. He would find out where the prisoners were being taken and speak for Ben, who was only a boy looking for adventure and hadn’t realised the seriousness of what he was doing. There was no one abroad in the village, either on foot or driving horses and carts. The houses, cottages and hovels were dark, their occupants seemingly abed. The land party had arrived and disappeared like ghosts. The captured seven would pay for the crimes of fifty. Out at sea the smugglers’ cutter had sailed off and was disappearing over the horizon.

Philippa Kingslake, twenty-six years old, unmarried and, in her Aunt Augusta’s eyes, unmarriageable on account of the life she led, was also known in the literary world as Philip King, whose adventurous stories were avidly read by all and sundry, especially by young lads like Benjamin, who had no idea their author was a woman. Had she inadvertently led him into danger, writing tales with heroes he might aspire to emulate? Aunt Augusta would almost certainly think so.

The lane from the village to the house dwindled into a track as she began the uphill climb to the house, arriving so breathless she had to stop and lean against the stable wall to recover before going indoors. The horses were restless; she could hear them snorting and pawing the ground. Had they been startled by the shots which must have been heard clearly by everyone in the village? She went into the stable where her own mount and Nat’s, together with two carriage horses, were housed. Going over to stroke and calm them, she realised they were sweating. They had been out recently and there was only one place for them to have gone. The sheer impudence of the smugglers astounded her. Where was Joe, the coachman, who had quarters above the stables? Had he been sleeping so soundly his charges had been led out under his nose? Or was he involved? Was he even in his bed? Torn between finding out and reporting Ben’s arrest to Nat, she chose the latter and hurried indoors and up to her brother’s room.

And then she was in for another shock. He was not in his bed, had never been to bed by the look of it. Had he also been out with the smugglers? She had not seen him, but then she had not dared show her face—recognising anyone would have been impossible. He had certainly not been one of the seven who had been arrested and herded so close to where she was hidden. Now she was in a quandary. Should she wait until Nat came home or alert her aunt?

She went back to the stables and climbed the ladder to Joe Sadler’s quarters, banging on his door loudly enough to rouse him. After a few minutes he opened the door. He was wearing a hastily donned nightshirt over his breeches, his hair was ruffled and he was pretending to yawn as if woken from sleep. She was not deceived; the bottoms of his trousers were wet. ‘Miss Kingslake!’ he exclaimed, genuinely surprised. ‘What are you doing up in the middle of the night?’

‘Never mind what I am doing. Do you know where my brother is?’

‘No, ma’am. Is he not in his bed?’ ‘No. Was he on the beach with you?’ ‘On the beach?’ he queried, feigning ignorance. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I am not stupid, Joe. I know what has been going on. I saw you all down there, unloading cargo.’ ‘You should have stayed indoors, ma’am.’ ‘Then I would not have known what had happened to Ben, would I?’

‘Ben? Master Whitehouse?’ ‘Please do not be obtuse, Joe, you know whom I mean. He was taken by the dragoons along with six others. I need to rescue him and I cannot find Nat. Am I right in thinking he was one of the land party and he sanctioned the use of the horses?’

‘Oh, Miss Kingslake, you was never supposed to know about any of it. Someone tipped off the Customs and we had to scatter. Mr Kingslake will be home d’rectly.’

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘In the meantime, you had better rub down the horses and settle them before the Customs come searching for goods and see they have been out.’ She paused as a new thought struck her. ‘You are not hiding any of the contraband here, are you?’

‘No, Miss Kingslake.’

She was not sure whether to believe him or not, but went back into the house. It was beginning to get light and Mrs Sadler, Joe’s mother, was busy in the kitchen, raking out the fire, ready to cook breakfast.

‘Lord a-mercy, Miss Pippa,’ she said as Pippa entered from the yard. ‘Whatever are you doing up so early?’

‘I went out to watch the boats come in.’

‘You never did! Whatever next! Don’t you know no one goes out on landing nights unless they have business with the free traders? They’d as soon kill you as let you go …’

‘The revenue men and dragoons came upon them with half the cargo still on the beach. Seven of the landing party were arrested …’

The plump woman, whose apple-red cheeks came from constantly working over a kitchen fire, turned pale. ‘Joe …’

‘He is home. I’ve just seen him.’

She let out a long breath. ‘Thank God for that.’

‘But my brother is out and my cousin has been arrested.’

‘No?’ She crossed herself. ‘Oh, Lord have mercy, for the justices won’t.’

‘We will have to get him out somehow. I was hoping Nat would be back by now. I wish I knew what had happened to him. I cannot believe he would leave Ben to his fate.’

‘He would not, Miss Pippa, you can be sure of that. Something prevented him.’

It was that which was worrying Pippa as she climbed the stairs to her aunt’s room to break the news to her. Where was Nat? Was he holed up somewhere safe, waiting for the furore to die down before coming home, or was he lying bleeding, perhaps dying, in one of the numerous channels across the marshes, unable to move? She dreaded the confrontation with her aunt, who would undoubtedly blame Pippa and Nat for the arrest of her beloved son.

The widowed Mrs Augusta Whitehouse had come to live at Windward House six months after Pippa’s parents had died leaving a seventeen-year-old Philippa and thirteen-year-old Nathaniel orphans. Aunt Augusta did not like Windward House; it was exposed to every wind that blew down from the Arctic, as she so often pointed out. It invaded every nook and cranny of the building and she never felt warm in spite of huge fires in every room, but nothing and no one would persuade her to leave her niece and nephew to their own devices, even though Pippa had said she was well able to manage with the servants they had.

‘Leave a seventeen-year-old not yet out in society to manage a household and her brother who seems not to know the meaning of discipline is not to be thought of,’she had declared. ‘I would be failing in my duty if I did not take you both under my wing.’ And so she had shut up her own house and come to Narbeach, bringing her six-year-old son with her. Benjamin, unlike his mother, loved Windward House and was soon into mischief with the village children and doting on his cousin Nat.

And look what it had led to, Pippa mused, as she rapped on her aunt’s bedchamber door and, bidden to enter, went in to find her aunt sitting up in bed, her long grey hair on her shoulders over which she had draped a thick shawl. The room was lit by the embers of the fire of the night before.

‘Philippa, what in heaven’s name are you doing up and about? It is the middle of the night. Has something happened?’

‘It is almost dawn,’ Pippa said. ‘And, yes, something has happened or I would not have wakened you. There was a landing last night …’

‘Everyone knows that. I keep my head under the blankets when I know the free traders are about. It has nothing to do with me.’

In spite of her concern, Pippa smiled. ‘Have you never drunk untaxed tea or taken a nip of illicit spirits, Aunt?’

‘Everyone does that. I ask no questions.’

‘Then ask yourself what Ben does when the gentlemen are about.’

‘Ben? I should think he sleeps, as I do.’

‘Not last night. I saw him arrested and taken away by the dragoons.’

‘Never.’ Augusta scrambled out of bed in one swift movement. She flung a dressing gown over her night-rail and dashed from the room, along the corridor to her son’s bedchamber. His bed had not been slept in. Then she rushed to Nat’s room, though Pippa could have told her he was not there.

‘Tell me,’ she demanded of her niece who had followed her. ‘What did you see?’

Pippa recounted exactly what had happened. ‘I was hoping Nat would know what to do, but he has disappeared,’ she finished.

‘I might have known. Nathaniel has led the boy astray. Ben didn’t know what he was doing. We will have to get him out somehow. You had better ask Sir Felix to intervene. The dragoons will take the captives to him; he will be the one to decide whether to send them for trial. He will help, I am sure.’

Pippa knew all that, but she was reluctant to go to him. Sir Felix Markham was the local squire and magistrate. He was twice widowed and made no secret of the fact that he had his eye on Pippa for wife number three. She did not like him. He was fat and over fifty and could not keep his hands to himself when they found themselves in the same company. Being beholden to him for a favour went against the grain. ‘I would rather wait for Nat to come home. He can do it.’

‘We dare not delay.’ Augusta was hurrying back to her own room as she spoke, followed by Pippa. ‘Once Ben has been sent to the Assizes, it will harder to get him set free. Where is Nathaniel anyway?’

‘I do not know.’

‘Was he on the beach?’

‘I did not see him.’

‘A fine kettle of fish this has turned out to be. I am beginning to wonder why I ever bothered to come here to live. You and your scapegrace brother both go your own way, whatever I say. You should have been wed by now and bringing up a family, not rushing all over the countryside like a hoyden and writing books. That is no occupation for a lady. No wonder Edward Cadogan changed his mind about marrying you.’

‘Aunt, that was six years ago and long forgotten.’ It wasn’t forgotten, not by Pippa, but the memory was too humiliating to talk about and it was better to pretend it was of no consequence.

‘Hmph,’ was her aunt’s reply to that. ‘Why did you go out anyway?’

‘I wanted to know about the smugglers for my next book. Reading about them is not the same as seeing them on a dark and windy night with danger all around.’

‘No, I do not suppose it is,’ her aunt said repressively. ‘Had you thought of what might happen if you had been arrested too?’

‘It would be an experience,’ Pippa said, more to bait her aunt than because she welcomed the idea. She realised almost at once that she was being unkind when her aunt was so anxious about her son. ‘I was well hidden.’

‘No doubt that is why you have sand in your hair and all over your clothes. Go and change. If the Customs Officers come here, they will see at once where you have been. And dress respectably. We are going to pay a call on Sir Felix. I think a demure, frightened young woman will fit the bill.’

‘Aunt, I am neither demure, nor frightened.’

‘Well, you should be. Off with you, while I dress.’ She clapped her hands to summon her maid from the adjoining room, still addressing Pippa. ‘Go and tell Mrs Sadler we will breakfast early, then tell Joe to harness the carriage. We have not a moment to lose.’

Sir Ashley Saunders was breakfasting with Sir Felix Markham. Having been alerted by his informers that a cargo of contraband was to be landed at Narbeach on the north Norfolk coast, he had jumped at the chance to leave London for a while. His latest mistress, Arabella Thornley, was becoming more and more demanding and had broken the explicit condition of their relationship and was hinting quite openly that he ought to marry her. It was the last thing he wanted. At thirty-four, he was a confirmed bachelor and intended to remain that way. His previous mistresses had understood and agreed to bide by that and it annoyed him that Arabella should think she was any different. He had once been fond of her, appreciative of what she provided, but the prospect of making her his wife filled him horror.

Norfolk was far enough from the capital to afford him some respite; as it was currently being plagued by smugglers who were openly defying authority, he had taken the opportunity to investigate their activities. Arriving in Narbeach, he had made himself known to Sir Felix, who had invited him to stay at Narbeach Manor. ‘Can’t have someone of your rank staying at the Cross Keys,’ he had said, when Ash told him he was spending a holiday in the area.

Ash did not tell his host that he belonged to the Society for the Discovery and Apprehending of Criminals, popularly known as the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club. They had their headquarters in Piccadilly at the home of Lord Trentham, who had encouraged James, Lord Drymore, to set up the group twelve years before and it was now well established. Its principal members, besides James and Sir Ashley, were Viscount Jonathan Leinster; Harry, Lord Portman; Captain Alexander Carstairs and Sam Roker, Lord Drymore’s servant, who had been recruited in the early days because he was familiar with the cant of the criminal fraternity and could gain access to places where a gentleman would have stood out like a sore thumb. Not all of them were such masters of disguise as Harry Portman.

Each had their own area of expertise and each was required to promote law and order. They were not empowered to arrest anyone, but they would track them down and alert the watch or the parish constable or the army, who would apprehend the criminal, preferably with incriminating evidence on him. They were not paid for their services, but did it for love of their country and in a spirit of adventure, so it was important that each was of independent means. Ash had inherited a property and some money from his grandfather and had managed to increase it several-fold with judicious investment and was now prodigiously wealthy. He had joined the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club because the ever-increasing crime in the country was something that needed addressing and membership gave him something useful to do.

Lately he had turned his attention to the smugglers who operated along almost every coast of the British Isles. Like the coiners whom Harry Portman investigated, their activities were depriving the government of thousands of pounds of revenue and threatening to destabilise the country’s finances. With the army away fighting a war there were not enough troops to deter them and they mocked the efforts of the Customs and Excise men to catch them. The war, which had been waging in Europe for seven long years, had ended the month before, but the troops had not yet been brought home and only a handful of dragoons helped patrol the coast.

Ash was not concerned with the village men who took part out of necessity. There was little labouring work to be had in the winter months and what there was did not keep a man and his family in food, let alone other things they might need, like fuel, clothes and medicines, and the smuggling barons paid them well for their services. It was these barons who were the focus of Ash’s attentions. He suspected that Sir Felix knew more than he was admitting, but it served Ash’s purpose to pretend he believed him innocent, if not exactly ignorant.

They had almost finished their leisurely breakfast when a footman appeared to say Mrs Whitehouse and Miss Kingslake had arrived and wished to see Sir Felix on an urgent matter.

‘What can they want at this hour?’ Sir Felix murmured to Ash. ‘It is hardly a civilised time to make calls.’ To the footman he said, ‘See that the ladies are made comfortable in the withdrawing room. Tell them I will join them directly.’ Then to Ash. ‘I must go and change. I cannot receive them in a dressing gown. You will wait for me here?’ He did not wait for a reply before dashing from the room.

Ash left the table and wandered about the room, idly looking at the ornaments and pictures. There was one of Sir Felix with his family grouped about him: a wife, upright and unsmiling, and three girls, which must have been executed some years before because he had been told Sir Felix was twice a widower and his daughters were all adults with families of their own.

The door behind him was flung open and he swivelled round to face a middle-aged woman dressed in widow’s weeds, who had determination written on every feature of her lean face. She was followed by a younger woman, who was endeavouring to restrain her. ‘Aunt, you should not come in here. We were asked to wait in the withdrawing room—’ She stopped suddenly when she caught sight of Ash. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’

She was tall, he noticed, wearing a blue wool gown with an embroidered stomacher that emphasised a slim waist and an enviable bosom. Her hood had fallen back from her cloak and it was her hair that struck him most. It was a fiery red and so curly it had defied all attempts to confine it. It spilled from the combs that were supposed to hold it in a knot on the back of her head and stuck out in all directions. He took his gaze from her hair to her face. It was a perfect oval, with high cheekbones, well-shaped brows and the most brilliant green eyes he had ever seen. He was reminded of a ginger cat and wondered if this one had claws.

‘Think nothing of it,’ he said, sweeping her a bow. ‘Sir Ashley Saunders at your service.’

She curtsied. ‘Sir Ashley, how d’you do. I am Philippa Kingslake and this is my aunt, Mrs Whiteside.’

He bowed. ‘Your obedient, ma’am.’

‘We have come to see Sir Felix,’ the lady said, bowing her head in response.

‘He will be with us directly. In the meantime, may I help you? I am spending a few days with Sir Felix.’

‘No, we must speak to Sir Felix,’ Augusta said. ‘He is the magistrate and only he can help us.’

Sir Ashley was a handsome man, Pippa decided. There was a glint of humour in his dark eyes as if he would burst out laughing at the least provocation. It might have been that she had not had time to see to her toilette properly and her hair had escaped from the combs and pins she had hastily dug into it. Knowing she was visiting Sir Felix, she did not care that she was looking less than her best. If it served to put him off, so much the better! And their errand was urgent. But to find herself confronted by a vision of elegance in a superbly tailored suit of burgundy velvet, whose own dark hair was sleeked back into a queue with not a strand out of place, was disconcerting. He wore no make-up and his face was tanned as if he spent long hours out of doors in all weathers.

‘Ah, then, am I to suppose you have come to report a felony?’ Although Ash was addressing the older woman, his gaze was on the younger. He could not take his eyes off her. She intrigued him. He saw the slight expression of impatience she did not bother to hide and added on a sudden flash of inspiration, ‘Or has someone close to you been taken up?’

‘How did you know that?’ Augusta demanded. ‘Have you seen him? Do you know what happened? Where have they been taken? Are they still here?’ She fired questions at him, allowing him no time to answer.

‘Madam,’ he said, lifting his hand to stop her in full flow, ‘calm yourself and tell me what has happened.’

Whoever he was, Pippa would rather talk to him than Sir Felix; as her aunt had been forced to stop for lack of breath, she decided to explain. ‘My young cousin has been apprehended by the Customs, Sir Ashley. He is no more than a boy with a love of adventure and went down to the beach to watch a landing last night. He was not involved, simply a spectator, but the Customs arrived with a troop of dragoons and rounded some of the men up, and Ben along with them.’ She decided to say nothing of her brother whose presence on the beach, if he were there—and she could not be sure of that—could not be explained away in the same manner.

‘There was a landing of contraband last night?’ he queried, annoyed that he had missed it and wondering if Sir Felix had known it and kept him talking over supper to distract him from his purpose.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Sir Felix is the local magistrate; the prisoners would have been brought to him to deal with.’

‘I heard nothing of it,’ he said. ‘Though my room is at the back of the house and Sir Felix might not have wished to disturb me.’

His host came in at that point, dressed in a suit of purple satin and a long matching waistcoat with huge pearl buttons. On his head was a hastily donned bag wig. He made a flourishing bow to each lady, before taking their hands and kissing them. He lingered over Pippa’s just too long for her comfort and she quickly pulled her hand away and surreptitiously rubbed it against her skirt, a gesture that was not lost on Ash. So, she did not like the gentleman, though he was obviously taken with her. ‘Ladies, I gave orders you were to be made comfortable in the withdrawing room …’

‘Sir Felix,’ Augusta said, having recovered herself a little, ‘we need your help.’

‘Anything, dear lady, anything within my power.’

‘You are aware there were smugglers on the beach last night and some of them were arrested?’

‘No, I was not,’ he said, affecting dismay. ‘Is there no end to their lawlessness? Have they harmed you or yours? If so, I will pursue them to the full extent of the law.’

‘No, they have done us no harm,’ Augusta answered him. ‘But Ben was out there watching them and was taken up with them. I did not know he had gone or I would have stopped him. You have met him, Sir Felix, and you know he is very young and easily led. I suppose he thought it would be exciting, he would not have thought of the danger. I felt sure the dragoons would have brought their prisoners here.’

‘No, they did not,’ he said. ‘I know nothing of it. Of course if they had, I would have rung a peal over Ben and sent him home. As it is …’ He shrugged.

‘Where would they be taken, if not here?’ Pippa asked.

‘Hunston, Lynn, Heacham—it would depend where the soldiers were based and the nearest magistrate. I will endeavour to find out for you.’

‘By that time it will be too late,’ Augusta wailed. ‘They will be sent to the Assizes and God help my poor boy then. What am I to do?’

‘I heard one of them say the goods they had seized were not worth turning out of bed for,’ Pippa put in. ‘He mentioned a chambermaid at the Standard in Wells who was keeping his bed warm for him.’

‘You heard them talking?’ Ash asked her in surprise. ‘Where were you at the time?’

Pippa grinned. ‘Face down in the sand,’ she said. ‘Hiding behind a dune.’ When she smiled her whole face came alive and her emerald eyes sparkled. She was, in Ash’s eyes, a remarkable woman and, in spite of his avowed intention to take a rest from the ladies, he found himself wanting to know more about her.

‘Miss Kingslake!’ Sir Felix remonstrated. ‘I am surprised at you. You are lucky you were not seen. The free traders would have had no compunction about bringing an end to your existence, especially if they thought you had informed on them.’ He paused. ‘Did you? Inform on them, I mean.’

‘No, of course not. I was simply an observer.’

‘They would not have believed you,’ Ash said laconically. ‘I am not sure that I do.’

She faced him, the humour in her eyes turning to anger. ‘I do not lie, Sir Ashley. I, like my young cousin, was simply watching.’

‘What on earth for?’

‘My reasons are my own.’ She did not tell him about her writing, which her aunt abhorred.‘It would not be so bad if you wrote about feminine things, like housekeeping or embroidery or collecting sea shells or such like,‘ she had said, more than once. ‘But to make up stories about war and pirates and highwaymen and things a real lady should know nothing about is not something to noise abroad. It will give society an aversion to you. It has already cost you one suitor. ‘

The fact that Edward had been horrified when she told him about her writing and insisted she stop it at once was only one of the reasons they had parted. They had met at her come-out year, introduced by a close friend of her aunt. He was handsome and attentive and before long was escorting her to functions all over town and had sworn his undying devotion. Her other suitors faded from the scene. Everyone said it was an ideal match and, not being versed on the ways of the world, she believed them, but after a while little things began to give her doubts. He seemed to want to change her, to make her into a one of those insipid, timid young ladies, without an idea in her head of her own. His insistence that she conform made her realise he did not understand her one iota and caused dissension, which was surely not right between two people supposedly in love.

‘If I could have rescued Ben, I would have done,’ she said, mentally shrugging these unconstructive musings from her mind. ‘But they would not have taken any notice of me.’

‘What are we to do?’ Augusta asked, impatient with the way the conversation was going.

‘I had better go to Wells and see for myself,’ Sir Felix said with a sigh that indicated a reluctance to do anything of the sort. ‘Lord Borrowdale is the justice there. If I can persuade him to let the boy go, I will.’

‘Oh, please do,’ Augusta said. ‘We will be for ever in your debt if you can effect his release, won’t we, Pippa?’

‘Yes,’ Pippa murmured.

It was obvious to Ash that the young lady was as reluctant to be in the baronet’s debt as he was to confront his judicial colleague. ‘If you wish, Sir Felix,’ he ventured, ‘I will go to Wells and make enquiries on your behalf. I am acquainted with his lordship. A request for the release of one of his prisoners might come better from me, since you know the boy and your action might be wrongly interpreted. What do you say?’

‘Capital idea!’ Sir Felix said with great relief. ‘I should hate to be accused of being in league with smugglers.’

‘And that would never do,’ Ash said with a barely concealed smile. ‘I shall need one of the ladies to accompany me to identify the boy and lend weight to my argument. As Mrs Whiteside seems overcome, perhaps you would come with me, Miss Kingslake?’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘How shall we travel?’

‘I have my carriage,’ Ash said. ‘It will take but a few minutes to have it harnessed and ready.’

‘You cannot go unchaperoned,’ Augusta said, suddenly recovering some of her usual aplomb.

‘Oh, Aunt, what does it matter? This is not London, nor even Norwich. I go out and about here unchaperoned and no one thinks anything of it. You take our carriage home and have Mrs Sadler make up a tisane for you. You need to rest. After all, you had little sleep last night.’

Ash found himself smiling again. He did not know how much sleep the matron had had, but Miss Kingslake, on her own admission, had been out on the beach, burying herself in sand while the smugglers did their work. How much sleep had she had? And what did she know that she was not revealing?

‘Yes, you are right,’ Augusta agreed. ‘I should not be of any use to you if I came.’

This arrangement did not please Sir Felix, but he could not object since he had said he was glad of Ash’s help. Instead he sent word that Sir Ashley’s equipage was to be made ready.

Twenty minutes later Pippa found herself sitting beside her escort in one of the most luxurious carriages she had ever seen. It had steel springs and padded rich blue velvet cushions, and it was pulled by a pair of matched white horses. Sir Ashley was evidently very rich, as well as handsome and agreeable. If she had not been so worried about Ben and Nat, she would be enjoying the outing.

‘Why do you suppose the dragoons took their prisoners so far?’ she asked as they made their way along the narrow coastal road that joined the villages and towns of north Norfolk. ‘Sir Felix usually deals with Narbeach matters.’

‘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?’

‘Into my custody.’ Ash smiled again. His face was stiff with smiling. ‘I intend to make a friend of the boy through his cousin. By gaining his trust, I might find out more. Where are the prisoners being held?’

‘I had them in the Customs House overnight, but this morning I sent them under guard to Norwich gaol. They will be safer there than anywhere until the Assizes in Thetford later this month.’

Ash understood him to mean safe from being set free by their friends. ‘Then I must go to Norwich. Will you furnish me with a letter ordering Benjamin Whiteside’s release into my custody? It will save me having to explain myself all over again. The fewer people who know my intentions the better.’

‘And Miss …’ his lordship waved his hand in the general direction of the door ‘… Miss Whatshername—does she know your purpose?’

‘Miss Kingslake. No, she does not. She went to Sir Felix Markham for help when I was there and I offered to do what I could to bring about the release of her cousin.’

‘Then I hope she is suitably grateful.’

‘Oh, I am sure she will be,’ he said lightly, perfectly aware of his lordship’s meaning.

His lordship left the room and came back a few minutes later, waving a sheet of paper in his hand. ‘Here you are. And I hope I may not live to regret this.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ Ash took the paper, checked the wording and signature and folded it before putting it in his pocket and bowing his way out.

Pippa was in the carriage, impatiently drumming her fingers on the door edge, when he returned and gave orders for the coachman to proceed. ‘Well?’ she demanded as soon as he had settled in his seat beside her. ‘What happened? Where is Ben? Is he to be released?’

‘Your cousin has been sent to Norwich Castle to await the Assizes and, yes, he is to be released into my custody.’

‘Then we must go to Norwich at once.’

‘No, Miss Kingslake, we cannot go at once. It is becoming late and we should need to stay in Norwich overnight. Even you must realise the impropriety of that. I am going to take you home and acquaint Mrs Whiteside of our progress so far, then I shall go and fetch your young cousin tomorrow. It won’t hurt him to have a taste of prison for a night or two.’

‘Then you will quiz him all the way home, I suppose. You will be wasting your time. He knows nothing.’

‘Then he has nothing to fear.’

‘Have you no heart?’ she demanded.

‘Oh, yes, my dear. My heart beats as everyone’s does. Here.’ Before she could stop him he had grabbed her hand and laid it flat over his heart, where she felt its solid beating beneath her palm. It had a strange effect on her own heartbeat, which suddenly became erratic and unduly loud, as if to prove it was every bit as efficient as his. It took her breath away and, for a moment, she could neither move nor speak. She was hurtled back in time, to the days before Edward Cadogan turned his back on her. He had made the same gesture to prove his constancy. ‘Two hearts beating as one,’ he had said. And what an empty gesture that had been! She would not succumb again. She would not! She pulled her hand away and made a pretence of fumbling for her handkerchief in the pocket of her cloak.

‘Allow me,’ he said, handing her his own pristine square of cambric. She took it and squeezed it into a ball in her fist. She did not speak, not even to thank him.

They journeyed in silence for several minutes but they could not go all the way to Narbeach without speaking; the atmosphere was tense enough without that. ‘Let us call a truce,’ he said. ‘After all, we both want the same thing—freedom for your cousin, the end of crime and bloodshed. And a peaceful life. Do you not agree?’

‘Yes,’ she murmured.

He held out his hand. ‘Then let us shake hands on it.’

She took his hand. It was warm and dry and his grip firm. ‘I am sorry, Sir Ashley. It is only my anxiety that makes me flare up,’ she said. ‘I do it far too often. It is all on account of my hair …’

‘Your hair?’ he queried, ‘What has your hair to do with it?’

‘It is red,’ she said.

He pretended to study it. ‘So it is,’ he agreed mildly.

‘Red hair is supposed to denote a quick temper,’ she said. ‘I am afraid, in my case, it is true. It is also said to be unlucky. Some people of a superstitious nature turn away from me. Some go as far as to say it is the mark of the devil and cross themselves.’

‘Then they are ignorant bigots.’

‘Are you married?’ she asked suddenly.

‘No.’

‘I’ll wager you would not marry a red-haired woman.’

‘My dear Miss Kingslake,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘are you proposing to me?’

Her face turned nearly as red as her hair. ‘Certainly not! I have no wish to marry you or anyone.’

‘Oh, dear, that has put me in my place.’ But he was laughing.

‘My question was purely hypothetical,’ she said.

‘Then I will answer it. Purely hypothetically, of course. The colour of a lady’s hair would not influence me if all her other attributes were favourable. And if I were in love.’

‘You believe in love overcoming all, then?’

‘Of course. Without it the world would be a poorer place.’ He didn’t know why he said that. Love had never entered his head before. Desire, perhaps, but that was not the same thing at all; one involved the physical senses and the other the emotions, and he had schooled himself not to become emotional. In his mind he related it to weakness. Still, his contemporaries James, Jonathan and Harry were far from weak and yet all three loved their wives at a time when being in love with one’s wife was considered eccentric.

‘Have you ever fallen in love?’

‘My dear, I do it all the time. At least once a month.’ His flippancy hid his confusion. Confusion was something else he did not allow himself.

‘Now you are roasting me.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘What other attributes?’ she asked, going back to his reply.

‘Why, she must be good-natured, generous, sympathetic to others, well read, able to converse properly without simpering and she must love me, of course.’

‘You say nothing of her colouring, dark or fair, or coming from a good family, or having a generous dowry …’

‘A woman with all those virtues would be beautiful, whatever the colour of her hair. As for a dowry, that is unimportant. I have no need of it.’

‘And have you found such a one?’

‘No, which is why, once a month, I am disappointed.’

‘You are teasing me again.’

‘It amuses me.’

‘Perhaps you do not come up to the ladies’ expectations. Have you thought of that?’

‘It is a possibility, I suppose,’ he said, pretending to give it some thought. ‘But as I have no wish to be married, I have never asked any of them what those expectations might be.’

‘I surmise you have had many mistresses.’

‘Well, you see,’ he said with a deep sigh, ‘they flock round me. I cannot seem to help it.’

She laughed. ‘How vain you are.’

‘No, simply truthful. Now are you going to tell me why you have no wish to marry? Have you had a surfeit of lovers, none of whom has lived up to your expectations?’

‘Oh, of course,’ she lied.

He knew she lied. She had been badly hurt in the past, he decided, and it had something to do with the colour of her hair. He could not believe anyone would be so unkind as to turn her down on those grounds. Why, he thought its richness was an asset and it certainly would not deter him, if he were ever to think of marriage, which of course he would not.

‘What are those expectations, apart from liking the colour of your hair, I mean?’

It was impossible to be offended by him. They were, after all, simply enjoying a light-hearted exchange of views, a small flirtation, which, she guessed, was intended to take her mind off the problem of her cousin. ‘He should be good-natured, generous, sympathetic to others, well read, able to converse without simpering,’ she said, repeating his own words with a mischievous smile. ‘And he must love me.’

‘To distraction?’

‘Oh, definitely to distraction.’

‘'Tis a pity that we have both eschewed marriage,’ he said with another sigh. ‘We might have made a match of it.’ He paused to look at her. She was pensive, as if her mind had flown to some other place, some other time. ‘But perhaps we can be friends.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Friendship is safer.’ It was a strange thing to say, but he did not comment.

Instead he changed the subject abruptly. ‘Your aunt will no doubt be upset to think of Ben in Norwich Castle, but we shall have him out of there tomorrow, I promise you. And as you are concerned that I shall roast him, I think you and your aunt should accompany me to Norwich to make sure I do not.’

‘Both of us?’

‘I think Mrs Whiteside might be glad of your presence. She seems a rather excitable lady and I am not skilled in dealing with distraught mothers.’

‘Very well. We will put it to her.’

Augusta had been pacing the floor of the Windward House drawing room for hours, refusing to eat, drink or even sit down. As soon as she saw Pippa, she flung herself at her. ‘There you are at last. Where is he? Where is my boy?’

‘Calm yourself, Aunt,’ Pippa said, leading her to a sofa and drawing her down beside her. ‘Ben is to be let out tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow! Why not today? What have they done with him?’

Pippa looked up at Ash, who was standing looking down at them. ‘Madam,’ he said, coming to her rescue. ‘Lord Borrowdale was concerned that the more reckless of the smugglers might attempt to free the prisoners by force and lives might be lost. He deemed it expedient to send them to Norwich gaol to await trial. I have been given a paper, signed by his lordship, consigning your son into my care, which I shall present at the castle tomorrow.’

Augusta raised a tear-streaked face. ‘And they will let you have him?’

‘Oh, undoubtedly. If you wish, you and Miss Kingslake may accompany me. We could do the return journey in a day if we set out early. But if we should be delayed, there are several good hotels that would serve for a night’s lodging. I suggest we go prepared. And take something for your son to change into. He will undoubtedly be rather unkempt.’ That was an understatement. From what he knew of Norwich gaol, the boy would have been confined in a filthy cell with dozens of others. Washing facilities and a change of clothes would certainly not be provided.

‘Oh, thank you, thank you, sir. We will be ready whenever you say.’

‘I will call for you at eight of the clock.’ He bowed and left them without waiting for a servant to conduct him to the door.

‘Oh, Philippa, you have no idea how my poor heart has been rent,’ Augusta said. ‘Every minute you have been gone has been torture and still Ben is not home. How the poor boy will survive another night in prison, I do not know. He is not strong … Wait until I see that brother of yours, I shall ring the loudest peal over him he has ever heard.’

‘You mean Nat has not come home?’

‘No. No one has seen hide nor hair of him, but when I asked Joe Sadler, he as good as admitted he had been with the smugglers.’

‘He must be hiding up somewhere until the fuss has died down.’

‘He could hide here as well as anywhere. If the Riding Officers didn’t know he was involved, he would be safer acting normally and doing whatever he had planned to do today. Instead he chooses to disappear. I have no doubt he knows I am displeased with him and is too shamefaced to come home.’

‘I wish you to be right, but I am truly worried he has come to some harm.’

‘What does Sir Ashley say about it?’

‘I have not told him. He is on the side of law and order and has no sympathy for the smugglers. I think he would like to see them all hanged or sent to the hulks.’

‘But he went with you to obtain Ben’s release …’

‘Only because he believes Ben will tell him what he wants to know.’

‘Ben knows nothing,’ Augusta insisted.

‘He must know what Nat was doing.’

‘Oh, dear.’ And she began to wail again. ‘What are we to do? If I had known when I came to live in this godforsaken spot what it would lead to, I would never have come. We were snug and safe miles inland and that is where I wish we had stayed.’

This was something the good lady repeated almost daily and Pippa took no note of it, but she was very worried about Nat. Sir Ashley must not find out about him. But how could she warn her brother when she had no idea where he was?

Sir Felix was out when Ash returned to Narbeach Manor. ‘He’s rid off to the Customs House,’ a stable boy told him when he followed his carriage and horses into the yard. Ash trusted his coachman, Tom Davies, to look after the horses, but it did no harm to let the other stable hands know how particular he was. ‘There was a pitched battle goin’ on there, an hour since. Had to call the militia in, they did.’

Ash decided to go and see what was happening for himself and asked for a horse to be saddled for him. He hurried indoors to change into a riding habit and buckle on his sword, then went back through the kitchen, grabbing a tart from the table and stuffing it into his mouth as he went. Once outside he sprang on the horse’s back and cantered out of the yard and on to the lane in the direction of the quay.

It was obvious there had been a confrontation at the Customs House. Two men were sitting on the wayside nursing broken heads; a bale of tea had burst open and the leaves were scattered all over the road and a band of women were trying to scoop them up. The captain of the dragoons was talking to Sir Felix, both of them still mounted. There was blood on the captain’s sword.Other soldiers had dismounted and were looking after their mounts. There was not a village man to be seen. Ash rode up to the two riders. ‘What happened?’ Sir Felix turned at the sound of his voice. ‘Oh, you’re back. Get the boy, did you?’

‘No, he’s to be released tomorrow. What happened here?’

‘They stormed the Customs House and rescued the contraband.’ He nodded towards the injured men. ‘They battered those poor devils out of their senses.’ ‘You mean the smugglers?’ ‘Yes, who else?’ ‘Were any of them recognised?’ ‘No, so they say. The Captain here winged one of them, so we’re making a search for an injured man, though no doubt his fellows will keep him well hid. As for the contraband, we’ll search for that too, along with the rest that disappeared off the beach last night, though it’s doubtful if we’ll find anything.’

Ash was inclined to agree. Sir Felix did not seem in any great hurry to carry out the search. ‘What can I do to help?’

‘Nothing. You are too late.’ He turned his horse towards home. Ash dismounted and led his horse over to the two Customs men, who were back on their feet. ‘Is anyone looking after your injuries?’

‘We’ll go home,’ one said. ‘Our wives will see to them.’

‘Did you know those who attacked you?’ ‘No, they wore scarves about their faces and hooded cloaks and it happened too quickly. We were eating our dinner when the door burst open and six men came in waving batons. They battered us about the head before we could even get to our feet. And though we shouted, no one came to our aid.’

‘Well, they wouldn’t, would they?’ the other said. ‘No doubt they took their share of the bounty for turning their backs.’

‘What was it?’ Ash asked. ‘Tea? Brandy?’

‘Some of it was. There was tobacco and silk, too. Now we’ve lost our prize. I said two was not enough to guard it and I were right, but Sir Felix would have it that it was enough. Why, I’ve known it take half an army to hold back the smugglers when their minds are made up to regain their goods.’

‘I am sorry for you,’ Ash said. ‘Go home and have your injuries treated. If you remember anything else when you have had time to consider, I am staying with Sir Felix. Ask for me by name. Sir Ashley Saunders.’ He gave them each a half guinea and returned to his horse.

Instead of riding straight back he chose to ride along the shoreline, looking for evidence. The tide had been in and out again since the landing and the sand was smooth. Where the tide did not reach the dunes were dry, held together with tough marram grass and weeds, but the wind had whipped away evidence of men’s feet, horses’ hooves and cart wheels. The smugglers had chosen a good night for their activities. He looked across at the marshes that ringed the western end of the village, but dared not venture on to them. A man who did not know his way could disappear without trace. So could the booty. If that was where it was hidden, it would have to be moved very soon. Goods needed to be taken inland to the markets to make a profit and the smuggling barons would not let it lie idle a moment longer than they had to. He resolved to come out that night and keep watch.

Pippa was sitting in the window of her bedroom, looking out at the sea. She could see Sir Ashley leading his horse along the beach. He was alone and looking at the ground.

She had been sitting there thinking ever since he left. The carriage ride and their conversation, which had appeared so light-hearted, had stirred up memories she thought she had managed to bury so deep they could never surface again. But she had been wrong. It wasn’t that she still yearned for Edward as she had at the beginning; she had long ago convinced herself that if he could not love her as she was, red hair and all, he was not worth her anguish. But once that had been accomplished she was left with the humiliation, the whispers, the half-veiled hints that there must be something wrong with her. And everyone avoiding her.

She had learned to live with that, to accept her eccentricity and even exaggerate it, so that no one took any notice of the lone figure striding along the foreshore in fisherman’s boots and a voluminous cloak that billowed out behind her, while the wind whipped her hair up into a fiery tangle. She could, of course, cut it off and wear a wig. Wigs were going out of fashion, but some still wore them. It was what Edward had wanted her to do.

Not only had he expected her to give up her writing, at which she had been successful enough to support her brother, aunt and cousin in comparative comfort since her parents had died and which she enjoyed, he had complained about the colour of her hair. He said his mother was superstitious and maintained red hair was the mark of the devil; if he married a red-haired woman, he would never prosper and a lot more nonsense that made her angrier and angrier, not only with his mother but with him for believing it. ‘If the colour of someone’s hair is so important,’ she had stormed at him, ‘then you had better find someone whose tresses you find more to your taste.’

She had expected him to pacify her and tell her it did not matter, that he loved her for what she was, but he had turned on his heel and left her. She had never seen him again and a little while later she heard he had left the country and his parents were blaming her.

Now Sir Ashley had brought it all back. He had said all the things she had hoped Edward would say, and he had said them in such a caring way, as if he knew she needed that reassurance. Were confirmed bachelors all so pleasant? Had they learned how to please without the need to propose marriage? Could they be friends as he had suggested?

It would be difficult if Ben really did know something about the smugglers or if Nat turned up and he was also involved. Her need to protect her brother and cousin would certainly come between any possible friendship. She would have to be especially careful when dealing with Sir Ashley. And that was a great pity because she liked him. He made her laugh and let her be herself. One day she might even tell him about Philip King. So deep in thought was she, she did not hear her aunt enter the room until she spoke.

‘Philippa, Sir Felix has just sent round to ask us to supper.’

‘I do not feel like going. I am tired and worried about Nat.’

‘I know, dearest, but we must not let anyone see that and as Sir Felix and Sir Ashley have been so accommodating about Ben, I think it behoves us to make the effort. I could not bear it if they changed their minds because we snubbed them.’

Pippa sighed and got up. ‘You are right. I will change my clothes.’

‘Put on something attractive—that green silk with the quilted stomacher enhances your figure, you know. It is your best feature.’ She pulled the gown out of the clothes press as she spoke and shook it out. ‘And try to do something about your hair. I will send Babette in to help you when she has finished with me.’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ she said meekly, beginning to take off the blue wool. ‘But if you think I will put up with Sir Felix mauling me, you are mistaken. He gives me the shivers. I cannot think what he sees in me.’

‘Why, a very attractive young lady when she can put herself out to be so,’ her aunt said. ‘But I was not thinking of Sir Felix particularly.’

‘Sir Ashley!’ Pippa laughed. ‘He is a lifelong bachelor, he told me so. We have decided to be friends.’

‘That is something anyway. Usually you frighten men away with your top-lofty manner.’

‘I am not top lofty. How can I be with a head like mine?’

‘Very easily,’ her aunt said. ‘And I wish you would not adopt it. You do yourself no favours.’

‘It would not work with Sir Ashley in any case. He would laugh at me.’

‘That would be very uncivil of him and I am persuaded he is the epitome of good manners.’

‘And all the more dangerous for that.’

‘What do you mean, dangerous?’

‘He is on the side of law and order. We must be circumspect in what we tell him. If he thinks Ben or Nat are smugglers, he will feel he has to do his duty and hand them over to the law.’

‘They are not. At least I am sure Ben is not. As for Nat, we might find out if he deigned to put in an appearance.’

‘I am worried he might be hurt and unable to come home. I asked Joe to try to find out what has happened to him.’

‘Nathaniel is a grown man. It is up to him what he does, but I wish he had not involved Ben.’

‘You do not know that he did. Oh, Aunt, I wish there was an end to all this smuggling. It is ruining men’s lives. Sir Ashley thinks so, which is why he is so against it. He would like to know who is at the back of it, the men who provide the money for the ships and the cargo. They are the real villains, not the poor inhabitants.’

‘We all know that, but I am sure Ben does not know who they are and can tell Sir Ashley nothing. Now finish dressing. We must not be late. Sir Felix is a stickler for punctuality.’ And with that she left to go to her own toilette.

Pippa dressed slowly. Her stomach was churning, partly on account of Sir Felix who repulsed her and had to be dealt with politely but firmly, and partly on account of Sir Ashley, who was far too perspicacious and far, far too attractive for her comfort.

Babette, her aunt’s maid, arrived in time to help lace up her bodice over the stomacher and to brush her unruly hair into obedience. It took a great many pins, combs, ribbons and powder to achieve it, but she emerged a tall, elegant beauty with a long neck, a full bosom, decorously hidden beneath her corsage, and a small waist from which her full overskirt billowed out, embroidered with pale pink flowers. She rarely wore jewellery, but tonight she fetched out her mother’s emeralds and fastened them about her neck where they lay on her throat, competing with her eyes in their greenness. Her aunt commented, ‘You’ll do', and led the way to their carriage.

Ash, who had returned late to the house, had only just managed to complete his toilette and go down to the drawing room to join his host before the ladies were announced. What he expected to see he was not at all sure, certainly not the vision of loveliness that quite took his breath away. Who would have believed the wild woman could be so tamed? She would turn heads in any drawing room. Politeness dictated he must acknowledge Mrs Whiteside first, which he did with admirable aplomb. Then he turned to Pippa and swept her the bow of a London courtier, putting his foot forwards and circling his arm before lowering it over his extended leg. ‘Miss Kingslake, your obedient slave.’

‘Hmph.’ This from Sir Felix who certainly did not approve of this extravagance.

Pippa, her green eyes sparkling, returned this courtesy with a deep curtsy. ‘Sir Ashley.’ Then she turned and afforded the same to her host. ‘Sir Felix, good evening.’

He bowed and seized her hand to kiss the back of it. ‘Dear lady, you are in looks tonight. One would never guess that you had endured a carriage ride all the way to Wells and back today.’

‘It took no endurance on my part,’ she said, retrieving her hand. ‘Sir Ashley’s carriage is the last word in comfort.’

‘And he has secured Ben’s release,’ Augusta added. ‘We are to fetch him tomorrow, but no doubt Sir Ashley has told you that.’

‘Yes, he has. I am indebted to him.’ He indicated a sofa with a wave of his hand. ‘Please be seated. Supper will not be long. I ordered it for half past eight.’

Pippa, taking a seat alongside her aunt, glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. It wanted a minute to the half-hour. She sat silently counting the seconds.

‘Supper is served, Sir Felix.’ Even though she had been expecting it, the voice made Pippa jump, the footman had entered so silently.

Their host held out his hand to her and Pippa took it to rise and thus she went into the dining room on the arm of Sir Felix, leaving Ash to escort Mrs Whiteside.

The meal was superbly cooked and presented and the wines very fine, but Pippa hardly noticed what she was eating and drinking. She was acutely conscious of Sir Felix at the head of the table on her left and Sir Ashley on her right and the need to be circumspect. The atmosphere was fraught with tension. There was too much unspoken, too much that must not be spoken for normal conversation, though Sir Ashley did his best. He entertained them with stories of London gossip and what was going on at court and in Parliament, anything except what was most on their minds.

‘We had some excitement while you were away today,’ Sir Felix said in a pause in the conversation. ‘The smugglers stormed the Customs House and rescued the contraband. Knocked the two guards clean out of their senses.’

‘Oh, dear, I am sorry to hear that,’ Pippa said. ‘Did they recognise their assailants?’

‘No, they do not seem able to remember anything about it, nor who was responsible. I do not suppose we shall ever trace the smuggled goods now.’ It was said almost triumphantly.

‘You think it has all been spirited away?’ Ash asked him. ‘They must surely wait until dark to do that.’

‘My dear fellow, of course they must, but no one in his senses would attempt to stop them. They will have a hundred batmen escorting them, all armed with batons and muskets, ready to do battle with anyone attempting to interfere. It would take an army and we do not have an army. I have spoken to Captain Lovechild and he will not risk his dragoons on so unequal a fight. It is his opinion that it would be best to alert the people at the receiving end.’

‘Do you know who they might be?’ asked Pippa.

‘No, but perhaps Sir Ashley does. He seems to be an authority on the trade.’

‘I beg your pardon, Sir Felix,’ Ash put in. ‘I claim no such thing. I am as ignorant on the subject as you are', which was a statement that could mean something or nothing. ‘I am here to learn.’

To learn from poor Ben, Pippa thought, but said nothing. She would go with Sir Ashley and her aunt tomorrow and make sure her cousin did not implicate the local men, particularly Nat. Where was he? The longer he was away the more worried she became and her ambivalent feelings towards Sir Ashley were not helping. On the one hand she wished him and his probing away and on the other she knew he would be a staunch support in a crisis. Was there a crisis? She did not even know that.

When the lengthy meal ended the ladies repaired to the drawing room for tea, leaving the men to their port and cognac. ‘I wonder if Sir Felix’s brandy is duty-paid?’ Pippa murmured, accepting a dish of tea from her aunt. ‘I do not think he is at all enthusiastic about tackling the smuggling.’

‘He is simply thinking of the danger to the dragoons if there is a pitched battle,’ Augusta said. ‘And perhaps he is trying to protect Nathaniel.’

‘Protect his own supply, you mean.’

‘Philippa!’ her aunt protested. ‘You must not say such things. He would be deeply offended. After all, he would be doing it for your sake.’

‘Mine?’

‘Do not be obtuse, my girl. It cannot have escaped your notice that he pays you very particular attention.’

‘And I wish he would not. Short of telling him I find him repulsive, which would be cruel, I do not know how to put him off.’

‘Why do you want to? Six and twenty you are, and unlikely to get another offer. If what you tell me is correct, Sir Ashley has already made it plain he is not interested. Who else will take you? Especially since you refuse to go to London in the Season.’

‘I did that once and look what happened. No, Aunt, I am resigned to remaining single.’

Her aunt heaved a sigh. ‘I have never met anyone as stubborn as you are.’

‘It goes with my red hair,’ Pippa said, trying to make a joke of it. ‘Stubborn, fiery-tempered, not to be trusted …’

‘Who said you were not to be trusted?’

‘Lady Cadogan.’

‘Oh, that.’

‘Yes, that. Now, you will please me if you say no more on the subject.’

‘Very well, though I do think—’

‘No, Aunt,’ Pippa stopped her. ‘It is all behind me and that is how I would like it to stay.’

If Augusta was going to continue, she did not because the gentlemen joined them and she was kept busy dispensing tea to them at Sir Felix’s request, and asking Ash about the latest London fashions on which he seemed more knowledgeable than Pippa would have expected for a bachelor. But then, she told herself, he had, on his own admission, had several mistresses. Was he a rake? Had his light flirtation with her in the coach been leading to a proposition? Why, oh, why had she told him she had had lovers? It must have given him quite the wrong impression.

Sir Felix settled down on the sofa next to Pippa, and though she edged away, he simply shifted closer. In the end she stood up and went over to a spinet that stood in the corner and began idly picking out notes with one hand.

‘Do you play, Miss Kingslake?’

She turned to find Sir Ashley at her side. ‘A little.’

‘Then please do entertain us.’ He regarded her quizzically with a slight smile. ‘I think “Greensleeves” would be most appropriate? That is, if you know it.’

‘Of course.’ She pulled out the stool and sat down to play. He stood beside the instrument and began to sing, ‘Alas, my love, you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously …’ He had a mellifluous voice and sang effortlessly. She joined in and did not notice Sir Felix’s scowl. Ash did and was amused by it. The man was as jealous as hell. He hoped, oh, he hoped that Miss Kingslake would not be so foolish as to accept the man’s suit; he was far too old and set in his ways for someone as lively as Miss Kingslake. He smiled to himself as the song came to an end. He was being foolish; after all, what business was it of his whom the lady married?

The last dying notes and the flourishing bow Ash gave the pianist signalled the end of the evening and the ladies prepared to leave. Sir Felix gave orders for their carriage to be brought round to the front of the house.

‘Ask my man to saddle a horse for me,’ Ash told the footman who was being sent on this errand. ‘I will ride beside the carriage.’

‘It is very kind of you, Sir Ashley,’ Pippa said. ‘But not at all necessary. It is less than three miles …’

‘I think it is,’ he said. ‘The smugglers might be abroad and I would see you safely home.’

‘I think I should come, too,’ Sir Felix said. ‘One escort would not be enough to protect you against a mob. And I am a magistrate, after all. They will respect me.’

Ash doubted that. He suspected Sir Felix wanted to make sure he did not go out looking for smugglers after he left the ladies, which he had every intention of doing. It was a dark night, ideal for moving the contraband from wherever it was hidden and sending it on its way. He bowed in acquiescence, Sir Felix gave orders for his horse to be saddled, too, and thus the little cavalcade journeyed to Windward House without meeting a soul. All the village houses were in darkness, which could mean the occupants were in bed and keeping out of the way or they were gathering for the move.

When they arrived, the gentlemen saw the ladies safely into the house and the carriage driven round to the stables, then they returned to the Manor in silence. They had nothing to say to each other.

Chapter Three

Having had little or no sleep the night before, Pippa was dog-tired. She said goodnight to her aunt and went to her room, intending to go straight to bed. The maid had not drawn the curtains and she crossed the room do so; it was then she caught a glimpse of people moving about on the marshes. Her tiredness left her. Nat might be with them and she had to persuade him to come home before Sir Ashley found out what he was up to.

She hurried to her brother’s room and fetched a pair of breeches, a shirt, a waistcoat, a coat and hat from his clothes press, which she took back to her own room.

Ten minutes later a red-haired young man crept from the house and made his way down to the marshes. There were crowds of men working there in almost total silence, some knee-deep in icy water, as they fetched kegs and oilskin-wrapped bundles from their hiding places among the creeks left by the receding tide and loaded them onto carts waiting on firmer ground.

Pippa joined them, trying to appear as though she belonged there, but all the time looking about for her brother. She knew most of the men, but dare not make herself known to them. If they thought she was spying on them, they would have no mercy.

‘Nat Kingslake, what are you a-doin’ here?’ one of the men said, as she helped haul a keg into a cart. ‘Thowt you’d a mind to mek yarself scarce.’

Pippa looked about her, expecting to see her brother until she realised the man was John Bristow, the blacksmith, and he was addressing her. She put on her gruffest voice. ‘Why d’you say that? I’m one of the team, aren’t I? I was on the beach when this lot came in.’ She had only Joe’s word that this statement was true.

‘Yes, but I see yew jump into the boat and get rowed out to the Sally Ann. Do that mean the rest of the cargo hev bin landed some other place? That i’n't fair, that i’n't. That cargo were ours.’

Nat was not dead as she had feared he might be, but it was clear he was one of the smugglers. How to answer the blacksmith she did not know. If the smugglers thought Nat had betrayed them and kept a landing from them, they would be after his blood; on the other hand, if they realised who she was, they would be equally merciless. ‘I didn’t go on board,’ she said, trying to sound like her brother. ‘We waited until the coast was clear and the sailors rowed me back.’

‘Why didn’ yew go home then? Joe Sadler hev bin askin’ all round after yew.’

‘I couldn’t. Sir Felix is there much of the time and he has a guest.’

‘We know that. Yew’d do better goin’ home and keepin’ an eye on the man for us. We want to know what he’s up to.’

She could learn no more about Nat and the longer she stayed the greater the risk someone would penetrate her disguise, which hadn’t been meant as a disguise but simply a convenience. ‘Very well.’ She nodded and turned to go home.

‘We’ll see yew in a day or two when yar’ve had time to find out more about that there guest,’ he called after her.

The night was very dark and she had to pick her way carefully for fear of falling into one of the creeks or being sucked into the bog. It was not long before she realised she was being followed. Either they did not trust Nat or they had realised she was not her brother. She tried to hurry, but was hampered by the terrain.

‘Oooh!’ The cry was forced from her as she lost her footing and found herself slipping sideways into a water-filled creek. The coldness of it took her breath away and she floundered helplessly, trying to find her feet. The next minute she was grabbed about her waist from behind and hauled out. Her rescuer set her on her feet on firm ground, but he did not let go of her. She was shivering uncontrollably and it felt comfortingly warm against his broad chest.

‘Little fool!’ he murmured.

She knew the voice and twisted her head round to see Sir Ashley Saunders looking down at her. Had he recognised her? She had not seen him among the men, but that was not surprising; he was dressed in the rough clothes of a labourer. Spying, she presumed, but she could hardly condemn him for doing something she had been doing herself. ‘I thank you for your timely rescue, sir,’ she said, trying to sound masculine, but failing miserably on account of her chattering teeth.

If he was surprised to discover who it was he had rescued he gave no sign of it. ‘My pleasure and privilege, Miss Kingslake,’ he said, still holding her close, though she was soaking the front of his coat. She felt his warm breath on the back of her neck and it was enough to send trickles of heat down her spine, right down into her frozen toes. It did nothing to stop her shaking. Quite the opposite.

‘You knew …’

‘Of course. Slim young men do not usually have curves where you undoubtedly have them. And very delectable they are, too. But let us not waste time in idle chatter—you must go home and into the warm. Explanations can wait.’ As he spoke he turned her round and slipping off his coat, put it round her shoulders, then he held it there, drawing her against his side while he guided her steps to higher ground. Neither spoke.

Pippa’s shoes were full of water and her head full of questions. What was he doing out on the marshes when the land smugglers were busy? Why had he come alone instead of being supported by dragoons and Revenue men? And how could she explain away her own presence? Did she need to? Was it any of his business? And why, oh, why did the feel of his arms about her, have such a devastating effect on her body? It was not only the cold making her shake.

They reached Windward House and went round to the kitchen door, which she had left unbolted against her return. They stood on the step, facing each other. The air was fraught with tension, with unanswered questions and the realisation of the sheer absurdity of their situation. Knowing her aunt and everyone else were in their beds she could not invite him in and yet it seemed churlish to dismiss him out of hand. She took off his coat and handed it to him. ‘Thank you for your escort, Sir Ashley. You had better put this on, you must be very cold.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, smiling and slipping it on. ‘And so must you. I suggest you go in and strip off those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold. I would not like to be held responsible for your demise. Go to bed. We have an early start in the morning.’

‘You are still going to take us, then?’

‘Of course. I do not go back on my word.’

‘I will say goodnight, then.’

‘Good morning would be more appropriate. It is past midnight.’

‘Is it? How time flies.’

He laughed and, turning her about, opened the door with one hand and gave her a gentle push with the other. ‘Much as I would like to prolong this delightful encounter, I must insist you go in and go to bed. I will return at eight o’clock and we shall see if you are well enough to go to Norwich.’

The next minute she was standing in the kitchen, lit only by the dying embers of the fire, and the door had been shut behind her. She heard his footsteps as he strode away and then she began to shiver so violently she could hardly light the candle she needed to see her to her bed. She needed something to warm her. She thrust a poker into the embers of the fire, filled a cup with wine and held the poker in it for several seconds. Then she drank the hot liquid down in one long gulp. She felt its warmth course its way down her throat and into her stomach and rather unsteadily climbed the stairs to her room, where she flung off Nat’s clothes and climbed into bed. It took a little time, but the shivering ceased at last and she slept, her dreams filled with near-drownings and strong warm arms engulfing her.

It was her aunt’s exclamation of dismay that woke her next morning. ‘Philippa, whatever has happened? Has Nathaniel come home?’

Pippa opened one sleepy eye to see her aunt, fully dressed, surveying the heap of soaking wet clothes flung all over the floor. Reluctantly she sat up. ‘No, I borrowed his clothes to go out looking for him.’

‘Philippa!’ Augusta was aghast. ‘Is there no end to your foolishness? One of these days you will come to a bad end. Why are they so wet? I was not aware that it had rained.’

‘It did not. I fell into a stream. Sir Ashley rescued me.’

‘Sir Ashley,’ her aunt repeated, as if unable to believe her ears. ‘What was he doing out in the middle of the night? Did you arrange to meet him?’

‘Certainly not. He was out spying on the smugglers. They were moving the cargo.’

The good lady sank onto the bed and stared at her niece in disbelief. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing. He brought me home and I came to bed.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Yes. What did you expect, that I would bring him in for a night of unbridled passion?’

‘Do not be vulgar, Philippa. I meant if you were in Nathaniel’s clothes, did he recognise you?’

‘Of course he knew it was me. He wasn’t fooled by my disguise for a moment.’

‘Heaven help us! You will give him a disgust of you and he will cease to assist us over Ben. I wish you would think of the consequences when you do these hoydenish things.’

‘On the contrary, I think it amused him. And he said he would be here at eight o’clock, ready to go to Norwich, so if you will get off the bed, dear Aunt, I will dress.’

Augusta stood up. ‘I am not sure you should come. You would do better to stay in bed today to get over your ordeal. I will make your excuses.’

‘If you think you are going to leave me behind, you are mistaken, Aunt. I do not need to get over my ordeal because it was not an ordeal, but a slight mishap from which I have fully recovered. Now off with you. I shall be down directly.’

Her aunt sighed and left. Pippa scrambled into a padded petticoat and warm wool overskirt in a soft turquoise colour, and a red military style jacket. She tied her hair at the back of her neck with a narrow black ribbon and set a tiny turquoise hat on top of it. Slipping into her shoes, she made her way downstairs just as the knocker sounded and Teresa, the elder of their two maidservants, opened the door.

Pippa took a deep breath. That there were going to be repercussions from the night before, she did not doubt, but she had as much right to be out on the marshes at night as Sir Ashley had and if she was going to be quizzed, so was he. The trouble was she did not feel quite so courageous when face to face with him.

He stepped into the hall and swept her a bow, just as if they had not been soaking wet and in each other’s arms barely hours earlier. He was looking incredibly handsome in a suit of heavy grey silk and a pale lemon waistcoat embroidered with tendrils of leaves in grey. His white cravat and stockings were pristine. What was more, unlike Pippa, he was bright-eyed and alert. She felt herself wilt under his steady gaze and it was an effort of will to pull herself together and answer him with a deep curtsy.

‘Sir Ashley, good morning,’ she said as her aunt joined her in the vestibule. ‘As you see, we are ready.’

They each had a small portmanteau and Augusta had a change of clothes for Ben in another bag, which was stowed in the basket at the back of the vehicle. Then Sir Ashley helped them into their seats. The morning was cool and he had provided hot bricks and rugs, which he carefully arranged over their knees before ordering Tom Davies to proceed.

Pippa hoped nothing would be said about the night before, but in this she was thwarted because they had no sooner started to move than her aunt addressed their escort. ‘Sir Ashley, I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for looking after my niece last night when she was so unfortunate as to fall into a stream.’

Pippa’s face turned scarlet.

‘Mrs Whiteside, your gratitude is unnecessary,’ he said, looking at Pippa with a faintly amused smile. ‘I am sure Miss Kingslake would have extricated herself eventually. Besides, she has already thanked me.’

‘She should never have gone out at night alone,’ Augusta continued, adding to Pippa’s mortification. ‘There are dangers all around.’

‘True,’ he murmured. ‘But I am persuaded Miss Kingslake takes no account of danger. She told me she often goes out alone.’

Augusta gave Pippa a reproachful look, while continuing to address Sir Ashley. ‘I am afraid her parents brought her up far too liberally. They made no distinction between her and her brother and, as they had no other playmates, they did everything together.’

‘Ah,’ he said and to Pippa there seemed to be a deal of meaning in that little word. She wished her aunt had not mentioned Nat. ‘I conclude Mr Kingslake takes no note of danger either.’

‘They are as bad as each other. To give Philippa her due, after my dear brother and his wife died, she felt she must look out for Nathaniel and curb his mischief and to do that she must follow in his footsteps. It has given her a love of adventure that is not confined to books.’

‘Aunt, I never told you that.’ Pippa found her voice at last.

‘But it is true, is it not? You have often taken the blame for a misdemeanour of Nathaniel’s. Do not think I have not noticed.’

Ash turned to Philippa. She was looking decidedly uncomfortable and he began to feel a tiny bit sorry for her, but he was not going to let her off the hook just yet. ‘And was that what you were doing last night, protecting your brother by impersonating him?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You said yourself I am nothing like a man.’

‘So I did.’ He smiled at the memory and she knew why he was smiling. She felt the colour flare in her cheeks.

‘Then you have your answer.’

‘I do not think so,’ he said. ‘Why were you there?’

‘My aunt has told you. A love of adventure. Call it curiosity.’

‘Curiosity, my dear Miss Kingslake, was the death of the cat.’

‘That is a silly saying. And I am not a cat.’

‘Ah, then I need not fear your claws.’

A ‘hmph’ from the other corner of the carriage reminded him that they were not alone and Mrs Whiteside did not appreciate his teasing. He stopped smiling and became serious. ‘What did you hope to learn?’

‘How it was done, how the cargo was dispersed. I had no idea it was such a huge enterprise. I thought it was simply a barrel here, a keg there, a few packets of tea to be distributed among the local population. Instead it is a whole caravan of carts, mules and men moving in the dark.’

He did not believe she had been so ignorant. An enterprise such as had taken place the previous night could not help but be known to everyone, including Sir Felix and the Revenue men. Pretending ignorance was much more comfortable, your conscience need not trouble you and, unless you were as foolish as Philippa Kingslake, you stayed indoors when the ‘gentlemen’ were about.

‘And what did the men say to you when they saw you among them?’ he asked.

She wondered if he had heard what John Bristow had told her. ‘They did not speak,’ she said. ‘They needed their breath for the task in hand.’

‘Pity. So you did not discover what happened to your brother?’

‘My brother, sir, is from home. I believe I have already told you that.’

‘So you did, but you did not say where he was.’

‘He is at sea.’

‘At sea?’ he queried, one eyebrow raised.

‘Why not?’ she said, ignoring her aunt’s startled gasp. ‘We are a sea-faring family. My father was a naval captain before he retired on half-pay and my mother frequently went on voyages with him. And sometimes my brother and I went with them. Is it any wonder that Nat should want to follow in our father’s footsteps?’

‘You mean he is a naval man?’

‘No, but he goes out with the fishermen and sometimes signs on to a merchantman.’

Augusta opened her mouth to speak but, catching Pippa’s warning look, subsided into silence, much to Pippa’s relief. She dare not look at Sir Ashley, who must surely detect her prevarication in her eyes. She was not used to being deceitful, hated it, especially now when Sir Ashley who was doing his best to help them. But it was necessary. He did not hold with smuggling and if he knew Nat was well and truly involved, he would have no hesitation in tracking him down and giving him over to the law along with the village men who acted as tub carriers and batmen. Each had a financial stake in the safe delivery of the cargo and it was more than they could earn legitimately in six months. Even though Nat was not among them this time, she did not want them caught because most of them had families who would be destitute without their bread winners. In one way she was glad she had fallen in the ditch because helping her had distracted Sir Ashley from following them.

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