The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (6 page)

Helena and Wroxton stared at each other across the elegant drawing room.

“Please be seated, Lord Wroxton.” said Helena coldly.

Malcolm disposed himself in a chair across from Helena, his long legs stretched out before him. A brief silence reigned.

“What did you wish to discuss with me, Miss Keighley?” asked Malcolm finally.

“I suppose Lady Brayleigh must have mentioned to you my concerns about the smugglers.”

“She did read that part of your letter to me, yes.”

Helena flushed slightly, remembering the harsh words she had had for his lordship. “It has become apparent that the absence of the earl has made the Wroxton estate a prime landing area, which is a serious concern for all the surrounding land holders. Lights are often seen there at night, and it is clear that the smugglers are bringing their goods ashore on your beach, using the caves there for storage, and moving the brandy across your property.”

“Why should I care about this?” asked Malcolm casually. “I drink my share of French brandy, after all.”

Helena made an impatient gesture. “I should have known you would not understand; I am sure your brandy appears in the drawing room in a crystal decanter, and you have no notion of how it came there. These are not romantic freebooters, Lord Wroxton. They are often desperate men, with no thought for the difficulties or danger they may bring to others. You have women on your estates, just as we do, and children. They are in danger every time the smugglers are nearby.”

Malcolm’s eyes dropped from Helena’s for a moment. “I had not thought of that,” he admitted.

“Of course you had not,” said Helena scornfully. “You are the kind of man who kisses serving wenches in your stables--why would you think of the well being of your tenants and their wives?”

“That is not fair,” protested Malcolm, stung. “Just because I had not thought of the danger to others, does not mean I do not care about it!”

“Perhaps not, but you ought to have thought of it,” said Helena sternly. “You are the Earl of Wroxton now, and not a carefree youth, or a gambler living by his wits. You should be thinking of these things, and often.”

“I’ve been earl for less than a year, Miss Keighley, and for the past twelve years I did not believe I would ever be cleared of the crime of which I had been accused. You must have some patience with me.” Malcolm smiled at her disarmingly.

Helena did not take the bait. “You were one-and-twenty when you left England, not a child of ten. You must have some knowledge of how to manage an estate. Not visiting even once in the last eight months shows a lack of interest in Wroxton of which your father would surely be ashamed.”

Malcolm leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me, Miss Keighley, why do you dislike me so?”

Helena raised her eyebrows. “I do not dislike you, Lord Wroxton.”

“You have not said one kind word to me since we met,” he pointed out. “I regret the way our acquaintance started—and know it was my fault,” he added as she opened her mouth to object. “But I cannot help if you insist on finding fault with every word I utter.”

Helena glared at him, but then looked down, acknowledging his words

“I am sorry if I have offended you, my lord,” she said. “I do need your help in this matter.”

“I’m not offended, merely puzzled. I allow that I should not have kissed you, nor should I have insulted you last night. I have apologized as best as I know how. Do you think perhaps you can forgive me?”

Helena looked at his clear blue eyes and smiling face, and sighed. “Of course I will forgive you. But you must try to remember that this is important to me, not merely a minor convenience on some land far from my home in London, as it is to you. This is where I live, and where my family and friends live.”

“I understand. I will do my best to take the smuggling seriously—as difficult as it may be for a wastrel such as myself.”

Helena glanced at him sharply, but his expression was civil. “Did Rowena tell you I called you that?”

“Don’t be concerned, she’s called me far worse,” said Malcolm cheerfully. “It seems the two of you would agree mightily on my character—or lack thereof.”

“It is not that I think you lack character,” said Helena hesitantly. “It is just that I—” she broke off.

“That you think I should take my responsibilities more seriously?” asked Malcolm. “I won’t say you are wrong. But I have very little experience being responsible for anything but myself. You, on the other hand, seem to be responsible for far too much. Can your brother not help you at all?”

“Arthur helps a great deal. You must not think he is heedless of his duties. But he is still at Oxford a good part of the year, and I want him to enjoy his time at home. There is no reason the estate should be a burden on him while I am here to help.”

“That is a pity. A woman as beautiful as you should not be immured here in the countryside, tending to your family’s lands. Your brother is very lucky you never married,” said Malcolm.

“Nor am I likely to,” she answered stiffly.

Malcolm realized from the sharp glint Helena’s eye that he was once again treading in dangerous territory.

“Miss Keighley, I wish to know all about the smugglers,” he said. “But is it necessary to discuss this here? Although your drawing room is lovely, the weather outside is even more beautiful, and, while Arthur showed me your tenants’ farms, he neglected the grounds of Keighley Manor. Would you be good to take a turn in them with me?”

“Certainly,” said Helena, relieved that he had turned the subject. Talking to the earl outside would be less intimidating than in the drawing room, where his presence seemed to dominate the space.

Helena rang the bell, and a footman appeared. “Tell Sherburne to fetch my hat,” she said. She stood, and Malcolm followed her out into the hall, where he looked around appreciatively.

“This is a beautiful house,” he observed, admiring the oak floors and carved wainscoting.

“We are very proud of it. The oldest parts date from the early sixteenth century, and the newest from the early seventeenth century. Once there was a moat, but, sadly, it was filled in. It has always belonged to the Keighley family. Though, of course it is not so fine as Wroxton Hall,” she added hastily.

Malcolm grinned down at her. “You have no need to appease me. Wroxton is newer, and perhaps more stately, Keighley Manor has more charm.”

“Oh no, Wroxton Hall is gracious and finely proportioned. This home is a mere muddle compared to it; there have been many additions over the centuries, and the Long Gallery appears to have been an afterthought and ruins the lines of the house.”

“Let us agree that we both live in very fine houses,” said Malcolm solemnly. “I would hate to come to blows with you over my admiration of your home.”

Helena smiled up at him tentatively. “It would be ridiculous to quarrel over such a subject.”

“It would indeed.”

Sherburne appeared, all smiles, and dropped his lordship a curtsey. She bustled over to Helena, and insisted on fitting a white chip hat, tied around the crown with a green satin riband, over her hair. Then, murmuring about the breeze outside, she produced a shawl, draping it elegantly across Helena’s elbows.

“Thank you, Sherburne,” said Helena. “Please do not fuss, I am merely showing his lordship the gardens.”

“Perhaps it does not matter to you, but may I tell you that you look lovely?” asked Malcolm, offering her his arm.

She glanced up to see if he was mocking her, but his expression seemed utterly sincere. With a murmured word of thanks, she took his arm, and allowed him to escort her out the door. Sherburne looked after them hopefully.

Helena stepped out into the sunlight and breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps Wroxton’s masculine vitality would seem less overwhelming outside the confines of the drawing room.

“Where would you care to begin?” she asked.

“You grew up here--show me your favorite spots.”

Helena turned her steps away from the house. “The places I loved as a child still have a hold over me. I’m sure you feel the same way about Wroxton.”

“I suppose I do,” replied Malcolm thoughtfully. “I recall an oak tree that I used to climb; if I went up very high no one could see me. I hid from my tutor there many a day.”

“Did you?” asked Helena, charmed despite herself. “I used to hide from my governess, particularly when she wished to teach me geography.”

“Where did you hide? Did you also climb a tree?” asked Malcolm.

“There is a priest hole in the parlor,” Helena confided. “When I was a very small child one of the servants, who had been here in my grandfather’s day, showed me how to open it by twisting one of the carved quinces on the fireplace. I’m not sure my parents even knew it was there. I kept candles and books in there—and sometimes food, if I could steal it from the kitchen. I could disappear for hours, and no one could find me.”

“Are you Papists, then?” asked Malcolm teasingly.

“We were, during Elizabeth’s reign, but we are sober Protestants now,” said Helena, smiling up at him. “My ancestors knew when the tide had turned.”

“You will have to show me your priest’s hole some time,” said Malcolm.

“Perhaps I will.” They strolled down the neatly graveled path, the scent of early flowers and herbs from the kitchen garden hanging in the air.

“You are very fond of Keighley Manor,” observed Malcolm.

“I am,” she said.

“That is why you care so much about the smugglers, I suppose.”

“Perhaps.” Helena hesitated. “I don’t want you to think me a prude; I have no concerns with brandy, or tea, and the taxes are iniquitous. But these are not a few friendly free traders. There is a large gang terrifying the people in the village and my tenants. They have taken violent retribution against those who have spoken against them; cottages have been burned and good men killed.”

Malcolm led her to a bench that overlooked the rose garden and she seated herself, looking up at him. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“I would be very happy to help you, Miss Keighley. It seems the least I can do to make amends for my years of absence and the insult I offered you yesterday. But I truly do not know how I can stop the smugglers. Is that not the job of the revenue agents?”

“There are not enough of them,” said Helena. “They intercept ships in the harbor if they suspect they are carrying contraband, but few smugglers work that way. They hover offshore, and ships from the harbor go out to them, under the guise of fishing. They then carry back far more than fish, and conceal it on the beaches until night.”

“Am I to go down with my pistol and stop them?” teased Malcolm. “I can’t imagine any of the talk of the Wicked Earl made me out to be a great warrior.”

Helena broke into a reluctant smile. “There are stories of your prowess with pistols—and I heard that you have a dueling scar on your cheek.”

Malcolm reached up instinctively and touched his unmarred face. “I regret to disappoint the populace.”

“It cannot be helped,” said Helena. “They will have to live with their disillusionment.”

Malcolm sat down next to her. “We have established that I cannot round up the smugglers on my own. What would you have me do, Miss Keighley?”

“It will help a great deal if you make it clear you will not tolerate your land being used to transport their goods, and if you post armed guards on your beaches. They do not land at Keighley, because they know we will not allow it. They are not anxious to fight, you know, and they take advantage of absent landlords.”

“I can certainly do that,” said Malcolm. “Perhaps I can even provide employment for some men in the village. I will speak to my bailiff immediately. Is there aught else I can do to assist you?”

Helena gave him a considering look. “How long do you intend to stay at Wroxton, my lord?”

“Why? Is there something you want done that will take a great deal of effort?”

“We will not truly be rid of them until we find out who is in charge,” said Helena hesitantly. “They are so many, and so very organized I think someone with an estate hereabouts may be conspiring with them. It must be a great temptation, after all. There is a great deal of money to be made by smuggling in goods from France.”

“So you think to cut the head off the snake, do you?”

“It would be best if we could. After all, it does little good to post guards if they will simply land a few miles up the coast or bribe someone to let them use another beach.”

“You are very ambitious, Miss Keighley.”

“I cannot do it without your help,” she replied. “Wroxton is the largest estate in the area, and the earl is the natural leader for any such effort. My family has long been looked to, but Arthur is so young, and my father was ill before he died and could not help. I am well known and even respected, but no one will take orders from a woman.”

“You surprise me. I certainly would—at least, if the woman was you.”

She peeked up at him; his expression was quite serious, but he saw a hint of humor in his eyes.

“You are teasing me.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “I have no doubt it is my best course to follow your lead in this matter.”