Smuggler's Glory (6 page)

“
Why? When did it happen?” Simon frowned, studying the weeds
growing up the scarred stonework carefully. Two months, three at
the most?

Sighing
loudly, she glared at him impatiently. “Four months ago my uncle
was sitting in the room in that far corner when there was a fire.
Unfortunately, my uncle wasn’t able to get out in time.” Her voice
trembled at the last words and she bit back the sob that hovered on
her lips. “Now please, I really would like to get home now;” with
that she swept around him and stomped toward the house, the subject
clearly not open to discussion. She didn’t need to look back over
her shoulder to know he was there. Everything within her seemed
attuned to his movements and it was beginning to annoy
her.

Her
problems couldn’t involve anyone else. There were far too many
situations for her to deal with at the present time without a
stranger adding to the mix. Glancing sideways at the man now
walking with her, she knew instinctively that he could pose a very
big thorn in her side if she allowed it. The speed and efficiency
with which he had despatched the two thugs who had attacked her had
been startling, and strangely unnerving to watch. The man was a
trained fighter, and it belied his claim that he was here to simply
paint. His sudden appearance when she needed it the most was a
little suspicious only, until she had the time to think about it in
more detail, she wasn’t sure what to make of Much Hampton’s latest
arrival. Had his appearance on the path just now been mere
circumstance?

Whatever
the reason he had arrived at Much Hampton, Francesca knew he had to
leave – soon.

“
I’m sorry,” Simon muttered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He
knew there was much more than she was letting on but clearly the
subject upset her. If he was honest, he was battling his own demons
going anywhere near the place. It was so similar to the house in
which he had grown up that it was startling. Revisiting the ghosts
that came with it wasn’t an entirely pleasant prospect, and he was
struggling to absorb the riotous emotions that had already begun to
tumble through him.

Silence
settled between them while they circled the huge building and
walked toward one of the doors at the rear of the house. Once at
the door, Francesca turned and smiled weakly at the man.

“
I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name,” Simon muttered,
feeling as though he was standing on the cusp of something, only he
didn’t know what. He fought the urge to fidget and check over his
shoulder. The feelings surging through him left him uncomfortable
and on edge, but even so, there was something deep inside that
refused to allow him to simply turn around and walk
away.

“
Francesca.” She could see no reason for him to know her
title.

“
Do I call you Lady Francesca?” Simon asked, biting down on his
growing frustration.
She should be working
for Hugo,
Simon thought.
Trying to get information out of her was like
trying to pull hen’s teeth.

“
No, just Francesca.” With a mental sigh, Francesca knew she
couldn’t allow the man to leave without at least learning his
name.

“
Well, Francesca, I’m Simon Marlbrook, but you may call me
Simon.”

Francesca offered him a weak smile, very aware that manners
dictated that she at least offer him refreshments before sending
him on his way but something kept her quiet. She knew that if she
allowed him inside, she would struggle to get him back out again.
There was something about his calm expectancy that annoyed her and
she was determined not to play along. Eyeing the basket, she held
her hand out.

“
Thank you for escorting me home and, for your help on the
path. It was very kind of you to come to my rescue.” She mentally
sighed when Simon made no attempt to hand the basket over, merely
smiled obliquely at her, clearly waiting. She fought the urge to
kick him.

Simon
almost smirked at the growing frustration on her face. She was
trying her best to get rid of him as politely as possible, but
clearly had no idea how much she had just handed him. There was no
way in hell he was going anywhere except through the door behind
her, she just didn’t know it yet.

Francesca almost screamed when the door behind her was
suddenly wrenched open at the same time as a large flash of
lightening lit the skies.

“
Oh, Francesca dear, there you are! I thought I heard someone,
come on in, before you get soaked, we -,”

Francesca sighed as Madeline lapsed into shocked silence at
the tall man standing beside her.

“
This is Simon Marlbrook,” Francesca warned, glaring pointedly
at Madeline in the hopes she would take the hint. She didn’t. “This
is Madeline, my companion.”

“
Oh, well, hello, Mr Marlbrook,” Madeline replied doubtfully,
bobbing into a curtsey.

“
Please, call me Simon,” Simon’s lips quirked up slightly at
the corners and he bowed over her proffered hand. He had no idea if
servants below stairs bowed and curtseyed to each other, but until
he could garner more information on her position in the household,
he was happy to oblige. He wondered why, if she was Francesca’s
companion, she hadn’t sought to accompany her charge into the
village. His suspicious nature pushed him to discover just what was
happening, and why everything around here was so
unusual.

“
Erm, yes, quite,” Madeline replied, clearly at a loss. “What
happened to you?” she gasped, eyeing the mess on Francesca’s
dresses. Outrage lined her weathered face for several moments and
she glared accusingly at Simon, who wasn’t altogether certain she
wouldn’t cuff him around his ears for the unknown liberties he had
taken.

Francesca coughed loudly and glared at Simon, silently
willing him to keep quiet. She didn’t want Madeline or Bertie to
worry any more than they already were. She had no doubt that if
Bertie got wind of what had happened on the road, he would blame
himself for not being well enough to accompany her into the
village. It had taken some heavy handed persuasion before Madeline
had finally relented to Francesca going into the village alone:
someone had to stay at Thistledown and look after Bertie and, as
Francesca was the one holding the purse strings, it had made more
sense for her to go and purchase the supplies they needed to take
them through the next few days.

Picking
up on her cue, Simon’s eyes locked with hers in silent
understanding. “Francesca has had a fall. I found her and escorted
her home to make sure she arrived safely. I am new to the village
and was looking for a place to stay for a few nights, but alas, I
am to be disappointed.” Inside he was relieved that it had started
to pour down with rain. It gave him another excuse to linger in
order to achieve his goal.

“
Oh, but the tavern closed down several months ago, and there
really isn’t anywhere else,” Madeline gushed, fluttering around
Francesca like a mother hen.

Simon
mentally groaned, wondering if Madeline was her mother and had
latched onto Simon being the only eligible bachelor in the area.
Had he just walked into a trap? Once again he felt the matrimonial
shackles being roughly shaken, and felt the urge to bolt for the
door. He would rather face a fierce thunderstorm than the vicar,
any day of the week. As it was, he had little choice but to stay
there, at least for the time being.

“
Madeline, I am fine. It was just a little tumble, that’s all,”
Francesca frowned. Although she loved Madeline, the former
nursemaid could be a little overprotective at times.

“
Well then, I’ll make some tea while you gather yourself. Oh
good, you managed to get some provisions. That should tide us over
for the time being, at least until Bertie can go into Bodmin,”
Madeline chattered as she gathered the basket, seemingly oblivious
to Francesca and Simon still standing in the kitchen. “Oh, don’t
stand there, please go into the parlour while I get some tea,” she
waved toward the ornately carved door at the far end of the room
before busying herself at the dresser.

“
If you would care to take tea before you go?” Francesca asked
reluctantly, knowing his answer.

“
Can I put my horse in the stables out of the deluge for now?
He is averse to thunderstorms and is likely to run off if he is
left outside unaccompanied.”

It was
on the tip of Francesca’s tongue to tell him that he could sit on
his horse and then if it ran, they would be together but she kept
quiet and nodded slowly instead.

“
Our horse, Dolly, is in there. She is old and will enjoy the
company,” Madeline replied as though the question had been put to
her rather than Francesca. She was bustling about the kitchen as
she prepared a tray of tea things and missed Francesca’s frustrated
sigh.

Francesca turned to the man beside her only to find the space
empty. She glared through the open door at the broad expanse of the
man’s back as he stalked, with his horse, across the courtyard
toward the stable block. Clearly he didn’t intend giving her the
chance to change her mind.

“
What happened really?” Madeline asked, moving to stand beside
Francesca.

“
I was mugged by Tom Simpson and Charlie Wick on the road,” she
ignored Madeline’s gasp and hastened to reassure her. “I’m alright.
But he appeared right out of the middle of nowhere, like the grim
reaper, and laid both men out before they could even bat an
eyelid.” She glanced sideways at Madeline and read her startled
look for what it was.

“
Do you think he realises?”

Francesca shook her head slowly. “No, but he cannot stay and
that is what he is after, I am sure of it.”

Madeline
studied Francesca closely, wondering if a bed for the night was all
that the stranger wanted. Despite the white dye in her hair and
sexless spectacles, there was an inherent beauty about Francesca
that no amount of false disguises could cover.

“
Sometimes, Francesca, it is better to keep your enemies
close,” she murmured cautiously.

“
You’re saying we should let him stay?” Francesca gasped,
astonished that Madeline would consider letting him through the
door. “He could be anyone! How do you know he is not behind
everything that has been going on of late?”

“
I don’t, but neither can we accuse him of anything without
knowing him a bit better. We need to know why he is here, and
appeared just at the right time, on the very day you were mugged by
those two idiots.”

“
But he can also learn things about us,” Francesca replied
pointedly, knowing her reference to her disguise wasn’t lost on the
older woman. “There is something about him –”

Madeline
fought the urge to smile, and studied the frown on her charge’s
face. Although Francesca wasn’t her charge any more, Madeline had
taken over the care of the young woman when she was a baby, and had
remained close to her throughout her life. It was inevitable that
at some point, at least one man would take a moment to look beneath
the bristly exterior she presented to the world and see the truth
that lay before him. Madeline studied the tall, handsome man
striding with authority cross the stable yard and knew he was no
fool.

“
He has to stay,” Madeline whispered, shooting Francesca a
knowing look. “Not only so we can find out what he is doing here,
but having him around will be an added deterrent to the likes of
Tom and Charlie if they choose to pay a visit.”

Francesca winced. It didn’t seem right to use the man’s
presence to fight her own battles. Whoever he was, he didn’t
deserve to be embroiled in her problems. Still, given what had
happened on the road, having him in the house would ease her
scattered nerves for a while and that could only be a good thing.
There was something about the new arrival in her life that unnerved
her greatly. He brought more questions than answers and far more
complications than she was confident that she could deal
with.

Once
again, the image of the speed and dexterity he felled the two men
in the road swept before her. Whatever secrets he had, she knew he
was a fighter who was used to using his fists and weapons with
ruthless dexterity. But was he here to use either or both on them?
She couldn’t be sure, but maybe Madeline was right. Maybe it was
better to keep your enemies close.

Moments
later Simon’s arrival in the kitchen was heralded by a loud rumble
of thunder directly ahead. Shaking his head to dislodge the water
that clung to his black locks, he swept his cloak off, oblivious to
how rumpled and intensely masculine he looked in his shirt and
trousers.

“
Here, let me take that for you,” Madeline murmured, draping
the cloak over the back of a chair before the fire. Both women
paused at the sight of the pistol strapped to his hip and the sword
on his other hip.

The look
they exchanged wasn’t lost on Simon, who refused to apologise for
travelling fully armed. It was something he had never thought about
before. Having spent most of his life in the army, it was
instinctive to reach for his weapons in the morning. His curiosity
was piqued when after their initial hesitation, neither women
protested at having the gun in the house and merely carried on as
normal.