Love and Larceny (18 page)

*

Talk, talk, talk. Daphne stifled a yawn.
After all the excitement of the evening, she felt as if she could
slip into her bed and not wake for a fortnight. Everyone would
forgive her if she excused herself, she knew. But surely she should
stay up to thank Lord Brentfield for trying to help her, even
though she had never been rushing off to elope.

Rushing off anywhere actually sounded rather
good at the moment.

She loved her friends, but her mind was
already wandering. She swung her leg under her skirts, earning her
a frown from her mother. Young ladies were not supposed to fidget.
But it was either fidget or fall asleep in her chair.

She fidgeted.

Besides, if there was talking to be done, she
had only one partner of interest. She wasn’t sure what Emily and
Wynn were discussing so avidly across the way, but she vowed as
soon as he was free to tell him how she felt. That ought to keep
anyone awake.

Emily nodded just then and started back to
the group. When Wynn slipped out the door, Daphne was tempted to
follow him, but she recognized the steely glint in her friend’s
eyes. Emily was about to solve the mystery. Daphne’s declaration to
Wynn would have to wait.

She straightened in her seat and elbowed
Ariadne beside her, who broke off in mid-story.

“Hannah,” Emily said, coming to a stop beside
the countess’s chair, “I believe we have completed the commission
you gave us.”

Hannah looked up at her with a smile, warm
brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Indeed you have. We now know
that we have smugglers in the area, and they have been using the
hermit’s hut to store stolen goods.”

“Though I’m still not clear how they were
able to enter the house,” Ariadne put in. “It seems a key plot
point.”

“There’s a large secret passage under the
manor,” Hannah supplied. “David told me it ends with a door that
leads out, I suspect all the way to that hut.”

“The back wall of the room under it,
actually,” Daphne realized with a look to Brooks, who nodded in
agreement. “But it’s stuck at the moment.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t stuck when the thief first
used it,” Priscilla mused, tapping her chin with one elegant
finger. “That’s why there have been no more thefts recently.”

“Except the dueling pistols,” Hannah reminded
her. “But I can’t see why a smuggler would want those. Surely they
have access to other weapons.”

“Smugglers must,” Emily said. “But a receiver
might not.”

“A receiver?” Daphne’s mother asked with a
frown.

Ariadne sat taller. “Yes, of course! There
was an article in
The Times
just last month about the
shocking boldness of smugglers. It’s all quite choreographed. An
English boat puts out from the coast and meets a French boat
somewhere in the middle of the Channel, avoiding the Customs
Service as they do so. They exchange goods. Then the smugglers
return home to secretly sell the items for considerably less than
market value, with no customs paid.”

“Lace for the ladies, brandy for the
gentlemen,” Priscilla agreed.

“Which is precisely the problem,” Emily told
her. “Lace, brandy, champagne—it’s all consumed by the aristocracy.
Many of those involved in the Free Trade are fishermen or farmers.
They require a go-between to take their wares to the buyers in
London. That’s the job of the receiver.”

Brooks stood. “Fascinating. But I fear I must
beg your pardon, ladies. I am certain Lord Brentfield will no
longer be amused by my presence. I should go pack my things so I
can leave as soon as I apologize to him for the trouble I’ve
caused.”

“Slinking off, are you?” Lady Minerva
challenged.

Hannah held up her hand. “There is no need to
leave until morning, Mr. Sheridan. We would not turn a guest out
into the night.”

“Indeed,” Emily said. “And I am certain you
will want to hear what I’ve discovered.”

He inclined his head, but remained standing
as if poised to run. Why would he want to escape? Emily’s stories
were always riveting. They even kept Daphne from fidgeting.

Her friend, however, glanced at the door as
if expecting someone. Then she looked at them all again. “Here is
what I surmise,” she said. “We know there were thefts from the
house before you and Lord Brentfield married, Hannah.”

Priscilla and Ariadne nodded. Daphne clamped
her mouth shut. The dowager Lady Brentfield had been behind those
thefts, but Daphne wasn’t about to blurt out the secret, not with
Lady Minerva watching her niece so fixedly. Emily’s aunt already
had one scandal to report with the female army. She hardly needed
another.

“That thief must have found a receiver to
avoid discovery,” Emily continued, “someone to sell the goods to
Society.”

“But she—that is the thief had access to
Society,” Ariadne pointed out.

“Access the thief highly prized,” Priscilla
reminded her. “So an intermediary was required.”

Ariadne nodded as if accepting that.

“After you and Lord Brentfield went on your
honeymoon, leaving the house to a few staff and the workmen,” Emily
went on, “it would have been easy for the receiver to slip in
undiscovered and help himself to a few trinkets.”

“Everything that was missing was easily
portable,” Hannah mused.

“In his traverse of the manor, he may have
found the underground passage,” Emily told her. “He must have
realized it was the perfect place to store goods from the local
smuggling ring, with whom he also had dealings. Perhaps in their
hurry to unload a recent haul, they damaged the rear entrance.”

“That must have made him angry,” Daphne put
in, picturing it. “Here he has a treasure chest, and they just
broke the key.”

Emily nodded. “I imagine he was furious.
Remember that pounding the footmen heard? It may have been him and
the smugglers attempting to reopen the door, to no avail. And then
the unthinkable happened.”

“We returned,” Hannah said. “And we invited
company. We surrounded his treasure chest with people who might
catch of glimpse of him.”

Daphne leaped to her feet. “And we did catch
of glimpse of him! That man we saw sneaking past the terrace while
you were all dancing.”

Brooks applauded. “Well done, Miss Courdebas.
That must be your receiver.”

“Perhaps,” Emily allowed, glancing at the
door again. “A shame only Daphne, Wynn, and Lady Rollings got a
look at him.”

“My look was brief,” Daphne’s mother said.
“He appeared a dangerous brute.” She shuddered.

“I can describe him for you,” Daphne offered.
“He didn’t strike me as particularly dangerous. He was short and
stocky, with brown hair sticking out from under a tweed cap.”

“I fear that description might fit half the
men in the area,” Hannah said with a sad face.

“Did he have sneaky eyes?” Ariadne pressed.
“Walrus mustache? Club foot?”

“No, no, and no.” Daphne plopped back down
onto her seat. “Oh, this is maddening! There must be some way we
can identify him. He cannot be allowed to escape.”

“No worries there,” Wynn said, limping
through the door with an elderly groom and one of the larger
valets.

Daphne frowned. “Was it the groom?”

The fellow froze like a rabbit caught in the
open. He was short and stocky, but his hair was iron gray, not
brown. Had she mistaken it in the moonlight?

“No,” Emily said. “It wasn’t the groom or any
of the servants.”

Wynn started, then frowned at her. “Not one
of the staff?”

Emily shook her head. “Our receiver had
access to all of Society. He was someone who would walk among us,
would be welcome in our homes. Isn’t that right, Mr. Sheridan?”

Daphne gaped at him. Surely Emily didn’t mean
the Corinthian was their villain.

Ariadne evidently did, for she sighed. “It’s
always the good-looking ones.”

Lady Minerva nodded knowingly.

Brooks offered Emily a smile as he spread his
hands. “It all sounds so very logical, Lady Emily. I commend you on
your reasoning, and I wish you the best of luck capturing this
scoundrel. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I find myself fatigued from
all the excitement today, and I believe I will turn in and speak to
Lord Brentfield in the morning.”

He started toward the door, and Wynn and the
servants fanned out to block his way. He turned to look at
Emily.

“You can’t honestly believe I am your man,”
he protested. “I came here on Miss Courdebas’ invitation.”

Daphne cringed at the reminder.

“She invited you after you attempted to save
her life,” Emily countered. “What better way to commend yourself to
your hostess?”

“But Miss Courdebas saw the villain on the
terrace while I was dancing with Lady Minerva,” he said. “You
cannot have me in two places at once.”

“Worse luck,” Lady Minerva muttered.

“I believe Daphne saw one Mr. Harrop’s men on
the terrace,” Emily said. She looked to Hannah. “Am I right in
thinking Lord Brentfield hired him as much for protection as his
ability to manage a household?”

Hannah nodded. “After everything that
happened this spring, David has learned to take precautions. That’s
why he didn’t want you to investigate. He was concerned something
might happen to you. Mr. Harrop has kept his watchful eye on the
manor. That’s likely why he was in the woods tonight, Mr. Fairfax.
He must have discovered the smugglers. I shudder to think what’s
become of him.”

Wynn nodded, though he kept his gaze on
Brooks.

“They have dogged our every step,” Emily
said. “They were waiting on a word from their receiver, who was
inside Brentfield Manor trying to determine how much its owners
suspected and when the party might end. Unfortunately, he learned
the party would delay the sale of a shipment, and he needed that
income badly. So, he had to find another way to encourage the
guests to leave.”

Daphne leaped to her feet again. “That’s why
you told everyone we were eloping? You used me!”

“Never, my dear Miss Courdebas,” he assured
her. “My admiration of you is real. I am as shocked as you by these
revelations.”

“Oh, give it up,” Ariadne said. “The play has
ended, and the critics have not been kind.”

“You can explain yourself to Lord Brentfield
when he returns,” Emily said. “Until then, I think we would all
rest easier if you were under watch. Mr. Fairfax, will you see to
that?”

“Happily,” Wynn said, moving forward.

“You too, Fairfax?” Brooks shook his head.
“And here I thought we were friends.” He took a step toward Wynn as
if willing to go peaceably, then he twisted. Seizing Wynn, he
pressed himself close. One of the pearl-handled pistols appeared in
his grip, digging into Wynn’s side.

“And as a friend, I expect you to escort me
to the shore where a boat is waiting. I suddenly feel the need to
take the Grand Tour. No one will follow us, or Fairfax dies.”

Not while she lived.

Daphne rushed forward, but Emily caught her
arm. Meeting Daphne’s eye, she shook her head in warning.

“Ah, such a clever young lady,” Brooks said,
backing toward the door and dragging Wynn with him. The groom and
the valet stood by impotent, obviously concerned for Wynn’s safety.
“See that you keep Miss Courdebas on a leash, Lady Emily. We
wouldn’t want her to be hurt.”

“No,” Wynn said, “we would not.” He met
Daphne’s gaze, his own entreating. But how could she stand by,
knowing he was in danger?

As if he saw the intent on her face, his own
face hardened. Before she knew what he was about, he listed to one
side. “My leg!”

Brooks shifted with the change in weight even
as Daphne darted forward. But before she could take more than a few
steps, Wynn recovered, turning smoothly to shove the gun down and
away. With a roar, the pistol discharged into the floor. Wynn
reared up to smash his fist into Brooks’s nose. As the Corinthian
stumbled back, releasing Wynn, the groom and valet rushed in to pin
the villain’s arms to his sides.

“Search him,” Wynn said, steadying himself.
“He may have the other pistol.”

As the valet confiscated the other gun,
Daphne rushed to Wynn’s side. “Oh, Wynn, that was brilliant!”

His smile was more like a grimace. “My leg
disagrees with you. I shall have to pay for that.”

“Then I will stay by your side and tend to
you,” Daphne promised, “day in and day out. You are my hero.” She
pressed a kiss against his cheek, feeling the brush of stubble, the
warmth of his skin. It was almost as sweet as kissing him on the
lips.

Wynn eyed her as she leaned back. “Perhaps
this would be a good time for me to propose.”

“Yes,” Daphne said and kissed him again,
twice more for good measure.

Wynn caught her shoulders, searched her face.
“Yes, I should propose, or yes, you’ll marry me?”

“Both,” Daphne said. “Now do be a darling and
kiss me back.”

“Your servant, madam,” Wynn murmured before
making her lips his own.

And once more fireworks danced over
Brentfield Manor.

From a far-off distance, she thought she
heard a commotion, louder than the beating of her heart. Wynn must
have heard it too, for he raised his head and glanced out the door.
Lord Brentfield, Sinclair, Sir James, and Nathan Kent came
barreling in to stop and stare.

“What happened?” the earl demanded. “We were
halfway across the next county when the groom caught us.”

“Yet here we find Miss Courdebas, with a
different gentleman,” Mr. Kent said with a look of approval to
Wynn.

As Daphne’s face heated in a blush, Hannah
stepped forward, twinkle in her dark eyes. “Allow me to explain, my
dear. But first, Mr. Sheridan has an appointment with the
magistrate. Emily discovered that he is our thief. He is in league
with the local smuggling ring.”

Sir James reached for the fellow’s collar.
“I’ll take him.”