The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (20 page)

“I don’t like the man.”

“I don’t like Denby either, but I have no desire to ruin him,” observed Stephen.

“He’s in charge of the smugglers, and I need him to become reckless. I’ve asked enough questions to know his estate is badly mismanaged and he needs the money from the brandy to live the way he does. I’ve not ruined him, but he will be particularly anxious to bring in the next shipment and deliver it.”

“Ah.” Stephen contemplated the earl for a moment. “Did you cheat, Mal?”

“Damn you,” said Malcolm mildly. “No, I did not. I was prepared to if required, but there was no need. Denby is not the gamester I am.”

“No one’s the gamester you are, Mal,” observed Stephen.

“I made my living gambling for ten years; when your next meal depends upon it, you find your wits greatly sharpened,” said Malcolm. He glanced at Arthur, who was watching them avidly. “I need not tell you that your sister is not to know of my doings tonight.”

Arthur nodded. “As I scarcely understand what happened myself, I doubt I shall tell anyone about it. But I feel somehow that I should thank you, and that Helena would if she knew.”

“There is no need to thank me; I do this for my own very good reasons,” said Malcolm. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, and before very long his breathing told his companions that he was asleep.

The afternoon following the excursion to Folkestone, Malcolm sat in his library, going over the accounts. He eventually pushed the ledger away with a sigh. He realized he needed to pay attention to these things, but it seemed very hard. He needed Miss Keighley, he reflected, to assist him in these matters.

The thought of Helena brought a smile to his lips, but before he could settle into a daydream, there was a rap at the door.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened, and his bailiff entered. “You sent for me, my lord?”

“Ah yes, indeed I did, Bulkeley.” Malcolm gestured at a chair. “Please, sit down.”

The bailiff settled in the chair across from him and looked at his lordship expectantly. Malcolm leaned back and regarded him. There was a moment of silence.

“My lord?” said Bulkeley. “You did request my presence.”

“Yes, of course I did.” Malcolm tapped a finger absently on the desk. “Bulkeley, I wish to discuss the free traders with you.”

The bailiff looked perplexed. “Again, my lord? I believe I told you my thoughts on this. I realize Miss Keighly believes there is a large number of them and that they threaten the local people, but I cannot share her opinion.”

Malcolm nodded indolently. “Yes, you told me that. I am beginning to think you were right.”

“You are, my lord?” Bulkeley appeared to be surprised.

“Indeed. I have spent some time with Miss Keighley and, while she is a very competent woman in many ways, she does not appear to have much knowledge of this sort of thing. I, on the other hand, do, and I find no evidence that smugglers are running amok on my land. Oh, I’m sure there are a few here and there, but then, I’ve never been averse to a spot of brandy.” Malcolm chuckled. “I hate to disappoint my lovely neighbor, but I doubt we shall capture a band of ruffians.”

“Then will you dissuade Miss Keighley from riling up the countryside with her tales?” asked Bulkely.

“I shall try,” said Malcolm. “The lady in question is a bit hot-headed, as I’m sure you know.”

“I’ve felt the rough side of her tongue from time to time,” said Bulkeley feelingly.

“Have you? Well, I shall, as I said, attempt to distract her from her pursuit of these fantastical notions.” Malcolm summoned up a leer. “I can’t say it will be a chore; the lady in question is very lovely and I have heard—well, it will be my pleasure to spend time with her, if you get my drift.”

Bulkeley thought he did, and nodded sagely. “Very good, my lord. I am grateful for your intercession. It will make my job easier if I am not troubled by Miss Keighley’s questions.”

“I will do my utmost to occupy her time,” smirked Malcolm.

“Thank you, my lord.” Bulkeley stood and prepared to leave. He had reached the door when Malcolm spoke again.

“Oh, Bulkeley, one more thing.”

The bailiff turned. “Yes, my lord?”

“I find that I miss my friends and country life grows a bit stale. I mean to give a ball here at Wroxton four weeks hence. We will invite the local gentry, and of course I will have visitors from London. “

Bulkeley seemed to prick up his ears. “In four weeks, my lord?”

“Yes, I think that will be sufficient time. Please make sure we are prepared for a large number of guests staying in the house. They will doubtless bring horses, carriages, trunks and sundry other items I do not care to think about.” Malcolm stifled a yawn.

“Very good, my lord.” Bulkeley bowed and departed, looking very pleased.

Malcolm gazed after him a moment, his eyes narrowed. He glanced at the handsome gilt timepiece on the wall. It was almost two o’clock. He pulled the ledger toward himself again and opened it. Time dragged as he paged through the book. He had passed half an hour in boring solitude, and was about to rise from his desk when he heard the sound of an arrival in the hall, and smiled. He leaned back in his chair expectantly.

The door opened and a footman appeared. “Miss Keighley is here to see you, my lord,” he said.

“Thank you, Thomas. Please show her in,” said Malcolm. He waited as Helena was escorted into the room. She had apparently taken a carriage and not ridden, for she was dressed in an afternoon gown of muslin in a deep yellow shade, with wine colored trim at the high waist, and a clever neckline with vandyked ribbons of the same, which was also repeated in the deep trim of the hem.

Malcolm watched as she approached him, admiring her elegant posture and the determined set of her chin. She was clearly nervous, while not wishing him to know it.

He rose to his feet. “Miss Keighley, how kind of you to visit me.”

“We agreed yesterday that I would call to—to take care of the business we need to conduct,” she said with a glance at the footman.

“You may go, Thomas.” He glanced at Helena. “Bring us some tea.”

The footman withdrew. There was a moment of silence in the library and then Malcolm stepped from behind the desk and wrapped an arm around Helena’s waist.

“If I kiss you now, will you relax?” he queried, a half-smile on his lips.

“What?” stammered Helena.

“You look very uncomfortable. I have no intention of falling upon you here in the library and having my way with you, as you appear to be imagining, but perhaps one kiss would ease the tension.”

“I am hardly going to ask you to kiss me—” began Helena.

“Hush,” interrupted Malcolm. He pulled her more tightly against him and, leaning in, pressed his lips to hers, kissing her deeply and possessively, his tongue teasing at her lips until she relaxed, opening to him and raising her hands to his shoulders. He gave a half laugh and began to withdraw, but she leaned in, pressing more tightly against him, demanding his attention. He gathered her to him and deepened the kiss, delving until Helena gave a tiny sob of pleasure. He lifted his head and gazed down at her.

“Well?”

Helena stepped back, raising her hands to adjust a curl that had strayed. “That was—that was very nice. I would not want to begin every business discussion in such a way, but it has certainly—made me feel less apprehensive.”

“I’m glad,” said Malcolm gravely.

“You are a very difficult man to deal with,” she observed frankly.

“Never say so,” he replied. “I’m considered very good-natured. “

He moved forward as though to embrace her again, but the door opened and the footman entered, bearing a tea tray laden with the best Wroxton silver. He staggered to the table with it and put it down.

“Thank you, Thomas,” said Malcolm with a sigh. “You may go.”

Helena found herself once again alone with Malcolm, and she moved quickly to put the tea table between them.

“Would you like me to pour?” she asked.

He grinned and seated himself. “With pleasure.”

Helena busied herself with the teacups as Malcolm watched, and she noted with pleasure that her hand did not shake when she passed his across the table.

“Did you see Arthur this morning?” he inquired.

“Yes, though he rose rather late. I have no idea what time he came home, as this time he did not wake me by stumbling about in the hall.”

“Good man. He learns quickly.”

Helena glanced up at him through her lashes. “What time did he return to Keighley Manor?”

“What time did he tell you he did?” responded Malcolm unhurriedly.

That forced a laugh from Helena. “He said it was two o’clock.”

“Then that must be what time it was.” Malcolm chuckled at her severe look. “Surely you don’t expect me to tell tales on your brother—and myself? Sir Arthur, Mr. Delaney, and I had an unexceptionable evening. We drove into Folkestone, had dinner at a very respectable tavern, and spent some time in the taproom with the locals afterwards. It was not a night of debauchery.”

“I suppose there is little debauchery to be found in Folkestone,” murmured Helena.

“There is always debauchery if you go looking for it,” Malcolm assured her. “But you needn’t worry about your brother. While I’m glad to take him in hand and show him the ropes, he is not the sort of fellow who seeks out depravity.”

“What about you?”

“My tale is an open book, for all the world to read,” he said placidly. “I cannot change what has happened. But look at me today; I am sitting in the library of my ancestral home, having tea with a very respectable young woman whom I hope to wed. How much more proper could the scene be?”

“I’m not as respectable as you imply,” Helena objected. “I, too, have my story.”

“One which we both know is untrue,” Malcolm pointed out.

Helena looked uncomfortable. “Or perhaps now it is true.”

Malcolm put down his teacup. “Acquit me of the sort of nefarious behavior Denby indulged in. You were far from unwilling, my dear, and no one need know what happened, unless you choose to speak of it. I will remain silent. My offer of marriage was honest; I have no ulterior motives.”

Helena bit her lip. “Why do you think Denby wants to marry me?”

“A number of reasons, I imagine,” said Malcolm noncommittally. “Your land is on the water, whereas his is not, so it would be of great use in his illegal dealings. Were Arthur to die—and I do not put it beyond Denby to plot such a thing—your lands would be his, which would increase his estate.” Malcolm glanced at her pensively. “And I think he wants you.”

“Wants me?” echoed Helena.

“Yes, wants you,” said Malcolm patiently. “As I want you. As I suppose any number of men do.”

“You are being ridiculous. I was not a success when I was in London.”

“No, I imagine you were not,” said Malcolm. “You are too direct in your conversation, and, I would think, far too intelligent to capture the fancy of most gentlemen. That is an entirely different thing, however, from the sort of base feelings Denby has for you.”

“Are your feelings for me base as well?” Helena asked stiffly.

“The basest,” he said cordially. “I want you very badly, as I’m sure you know. I would not be sitting here across from you, drinking tea, a beverage I have a great distaste for, if I did not.”

Helena looked away, flushing.

“Did you think I would not admit it?” asked Malcolm. There was a pause. “But then, we were speaking of Denby,” he continued. “You said he was to call upon you this morning, a circumstance that displeased me.”

Helena seized gratefully on the new topic of conversation. “He did not come to the manor. I was very surprised.”

“Surprised, perhaps, but I hope not disappointed,” murmured Malcolm.

“I did not wish to spend time with him, of course, but we need to know what his plans are. Perhaps I should send him a note.”

“There’s no reason to do that.” Malcolm put down his teacup. “I have thought of something that might serve far better and would alleviate the need for you to spend time in the company of that swine.”

“You have?” Helena’s eyebrows rose. “What might this idea of yours be?”

“I think I should be insulted,” mused Malcolm. “You appear to doubt my ingenuity.”

“Not at all,” said Helena politely. “Please enlighten me.”

“When I was in Folkestone last night, I learned that Denby has recently lost a great deal of money at the gaming tables.” He paused and looked at Helena.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Er—people talk,” he observed. Helena seemed to be content with his explanation, and Malcolm continued. “It occurred to me this will make him very anxious to bring in the next shipment of brandy, which we know will be here within a month, quickly and without attention being paid to it. Greed and fear will make him stupid; we need only take advantage of that.”

“That makes sense,” said Helena judiciously.

“I’m delighted you agree with me,” said Malcolm. “I think it best if we pretend we are no longer interested in pursuing the smugglers. I have already taken steps in that direction; I told Bulkeley this morning that I am weary of the topic, and mean to redirect my energy—elsewhere.”

“So you believe Bulkeley is a creature of Denby’s.”

“I am sure of it.” Malcolm frowned. “I would like nothing more than to dismiss him immediately, but I think he might be a useful tool in getting false information to Denby.”

Helena nodded. “I’m sure he is spying on you.”

“No doubt. The thought annoys me; the last thing I need is my bailiff creeping about, watching me. In any event, I also told him that in four weeks’ time I will give a ball for the countryside, and invite numerous friends here from London.”

Helena looked up, startled. “A ball?”

“A large and fashionable ball, with music and dancing and fine ladies and gentlemen. It will be a splendid diversion, and no doubt the talk of Folkestone for weeks. You, in the next days, will increase your vigilance on Keighley Manor, insuring that Denby will need to cross Wroxton lands with his goods. I, on the other hand, will make it clear that I no longer am interested in the free traders and consider them to be at most a nuisance and possibly even nonexistent. In this way we can be certain he will bring the shipment across my land on the night of the ball, when we are all distracted by our gaiety.”