Mary Nichols - Sir Ashley's Mettlesome Match

‘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

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.