Malia Martin (19 page)

“Quit yelling at me and get us out of here,” Pru said tightly.

She heard some rather creative words, but at least Clifton leaned forward into his driving and did not try to speak to her anymore. They bounced along, going deeper and deeper into the marsh, finally pulling the cart into a stand of tall reeds.

Pru jumped out of the back of the cart only after Clifton tied the reins to the brake. Icy cold water seeped immediately through her shoes and breeches, and Pru gave a small gasp. She bit her lip quickly, knowing that any small sound could give them away.

With all the stealth she could muster, Pru lowered herself into the water until it lapped at her neck. The water was like fire against her skin, it was so cold.

She glanced over at Clifton, who had also submerged himself in the marsh water. He pointed under the cart, and Pru nodded. They both moved as silently as they could, parting reeds to get under the cart.

And then they waited in complete silence. True to her name, Beauty was beautiful. She stayed completely still, never twitching or even moving one hair of her gorgeous tail.

And Pru prayed.

They had only had to scatter a few times in the two short years she had been with the gang, and each time she felt as if her heart was going to beat right through the thin wall of her chest and her body would just slump over dead. She hated it more than anything else, and the only thing that kept her halfway calm was praying.

Rather ironic, really. To pray that God would help her perform an illegal act. But Pru was fairly sure that He would. He certainly had so far, and she knew that if she were God, she would definitely see the merits of smuggling for a town that could never survive otherwise.

Her feet and fingers had gone numb with cold when she finally heard the determined splashes coming right for them. Pru closed her eyes, held her breath, and intensified her pleas to God.

The splashes slowed, halted, then started again. Pru felt an almost panicked need to scream. Instead she slowly, silently let out the air in her lungs, and took in another long quiet pull of breath.

He was right in front of them now, and Pru was fairly sure the captain would hear her heart thumping away in the stillness.

He stopped for a moment. His horse whinnied and stamped. Water lapped against Pru’s chest.

She heard the soft sound of James’s voice urging the horse on, and she knew that he was not going forward, but crossing over to check the tall stand of reeds.

He was not a stupid man, James Ashley, and it was almost as if she could read his mind as he stared at the reeds, just tall enough and full enough to hide someone or something. Perhaps a few of them were bent or broken.

And then she heard a yell. It was close, and accompanied by thrashing water. Pru blinked at the sudden noise. It seemed thunderous after all the silence.

She heard, then, the quick rush of splashes as James turned his steed toward the noise. They had been saved, surely. Pru let out an audible sigh as she listened to James move quickly away from them. He was in pursuit of someone, and as he moved farther and farther away, Pru glanced over to grin at Clifton.

But her butler had vanished.

T
he dawn had come, finally, gray and colder than any May morning before it. Clifton had not returned during the night, and Pru could only pray that he had hidden himself away in some safe place.

Still, Pru had dressed early and stood on her front steps waiting for Tuck to bring the wagon around. She stamped her feet and blew hot air onto her gloved hands.

She had begun to sniffle the night before, and now her nose felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. Her head ached as if someone banged upon her temples with a hammer, and she could feel every tight, painful muscle in her body.

Worse yet, she felt a queer sort of dread she had never experienced before. It did not bode well for the day ahead.

Pru stamped her feet again, wishing she could wear her breeches and wool socks every day. Men had no idea how lucky they were not to have to suffer through cold drafts sliding up their skirts.

She heard the crunch of gravel then, and glanced up to see Captain Ashley riding toward the house. Pru swayed as she watched him, for the man led another horse behind him. And sitting upon that horse like a mammoth warrior was Clifton.

God help her.

James swung down from his horse, his eyes upon the woman before him. She was pale this morning, her eyes large dark splashes of color in a colorless face. He did not relish his task, but he knew that he had to tell Prudence Farnsworth that her trusted butler had been leading a secret life, one that most probably would get the man hanged.

James bowed his head for a moment, and then looked up again. “Lady Farnsworth,” he started, then faltered at the flash of anger that brought bright red flags to her cheeks.

“The least you could do now, James, is call me Prudence.”

He said nothing for a long moment, breathing slowly, letting the cold air burn in his lungs. A little breath of frigid wind tugged at the bonnet that hugged Prudence’s face.

“Prudence, I found your butler in the vicinity of the marsh last night …”

“Yes, James, he often walks at night. Is that a crime?” Prudence stared at him defiantly.

“I also came across a shipment of untaxed tea hidden away in the marsh,” James said.

“And that means that Clifton put it there?”

James frowned. Prudence was acting rather differently than he would have expected. He had thought that she would cry, berate her butler, perhaps even fling herself into James’s arms. That part, actually, was something he had hoped for. Though, of course, he would never admit to such a thing out loud.

“I have a signed confession, Lad … Prudence.” James patted his chest, where the parchment sat folded in his inside pocket.

“This man, your butler”—James pointed dramatically at Clifton—“is the notorious Wolf, who has been plaguing this town with his illegal acts.”

Prudence sucked in an audible breath of shock, her gaze flying to Clifton. “You!” she cried, a look of pure anger emanating from her eyes.

“I realize this is terribly unsettling for you, Prudence. I am sorry to have been the person to break this news to you, but it is necessary. I must take this man and the goods I have confiscated to Rye, where the officers there can transport him to London for his sentencing.”

Prudence closed her eyes tightly and went very still at this pronouncement. James waited for her to get over her initial shock.

He had known she would be upset. But he was also sure that Prudence would soon realize that it was all for the best. Clifton was a menace to the good town of Gravesly and all of England.

Prudence opened her eyes slowly, then turned a penetrating glare on her butler. “How could you, Clifton?” she asked.

“You know why, Lady Pru. And you had better just accept it.”

“No,” she said dully. “Captain.” Prudence turned toward James. “I need to speak with you in private.”

“No!” Clifton bellowed.

James winced and glanced back at his captive. The man was twisting about, trying to wrestle the shackles from his hands: an impossible task even for the strong butler.

“Come now, man, you promised to go quietly!”

“Clifton,” Pru said calmly, “of course I will not allow this.”

James frowned. “I beg your pardon, but you really have no say in the matter, Lady Farnsworth.”

“Come, James.” Prudence turned and opened the front door of her home.

“I really mustn’t leave my prisoner, Lady …”

“Come with me now, Captain. Tuck”—the lady nodded to the boy who had just brought the wagon around—“watch over Clifton. Make sure that he goes nowhere.”

“My pleasure, Lady Pru.” Tuck grinned happily at James’s captive.

James glanced from the scowl on Clifton’s face, to the boy jumping from the wagon, then at Prudence’s back as she went inside her house without another backward look. Again he was struck by the way such a small woman could take complete command of all those around her.

“Might I have your word, Tuck, that you will not allow this captive free?”

“Of course, Cap’n,” Tuck said merrily.

Another dark glance at the furious-looking butler, and James turned to follow in Lady Farnsworth’s wake.

Pru sat for a moment in the silence of her drawing room and tried to figure out what to do. Of course she would have to tell the captain the truth, wouldn’t she?

Most definitely she would not allow him to cart poor Clifton off to jail. That would entail telling him the truth, wouldn’t it?

She heard a small sound and looked up into the gray stormy eyes of the man she had wanted to make her lover but had always known to be her nemesis.

Prudence shook her head on a sigh, but the answer to her problem came to her then in a flash of clarity.

“Well, James,” she said crisply, “do sit, or I shall surely get a crick in my neck.”

He took a deep breath, the jacket of his uniform rising and falling across his wide chest. Then he moved stiffly toward the chair across from her.

“I thought you should understand something before you take my butler in for smuggling.”

Captain Ashley frowned.

“The scandal you spoke of the other night has most definitely come to fruition.” Pru tried to smile, but felt the corner of her mouth quiver, and so she bit at her bottom lip instead.

She said a quick prayer that her nervousness did not show, and continued, “I’m afraid, dearest Captain Ashley, that you are right, you will have to become my husband.”

Captain Ashley’s expression was that of a stalwart soldier going into battle. Lovely, she could now count herself as intimidating a prospect as a battalion of Frenchmen.

Most probably she had displayed the exact expression when her parents told her that she was to marry Baron Farnsworth.

“I will be going on to obtain a special license after I take Clifton to the magistrate in Rye, my lady.”

That gave her pause. “Really?” He was going to get a special license without even consulting with her first, as if he knew all along that she would do as he wished?

She frowned, ready to get very upset about this point, but a glance out the window at Clifton in shackles made her stop.

“Of course you will. Good. But, of course, this means that you cannot possibly turn Clifton in to the magistrate.”

“Excuse me?”

“I cannot have my butler taken in for smuggling, think of the scandal.”

“But …”

“And, of course, it would do nothing for your own reputation to have the world know that your wife’s butler was a smuggler.”

James was looking at her as if she had just sprouted another head, and Pru realized that she had to take another tack, quickly. She had to appeal to the man’s sense of honor.

“Captain,” she said softly, “I realize that you do not love me.” She blinked a few times as if fighting back tears, then glanced quickly at her lap. “But, please, if you will, think of my feelings before you do this terrible thing.”

“Lady Farnsworth, I must do my duty.”

Prudence stood quickly and went to kneel at the captain’s feet. “And where does your duty lie now, Captain? If you are to marry me, I think your duty is with me, is it not?”

James took a deep breath, and Pru took his hands in hers. “I can’t have my butler charged with such a horrible crime, Captain. How will I ever hold my head up in this town again?”

“Well …”

“The only solution is to let dear Clifton go.”

Silence met that statement as Pru held her breath and prayed.

“I can make him give his word that he will no longer associate with the smugglers, Captain.”

James stared at her for a moment, then he carefully extracted his hands from hers and stood. She moved aside as he walked away from her and stopped to stare out the gray panes of the window.

Pru took a deep breath and threaded her fingers together. James stayed still for a long time.

Prudence carefully pushed herself to her feet, wondering if she should go stand beside him. She knew there was no action to take but to marry the captain. She could not allow this man to take Clifton to the magistrate. She could not allow him to ruin the lives of every single person that lived in Gravesly.