Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway (8 page)

He smiled at her. “What activities in Looe would engage the attention of your avaricious guardian, I wonder.”

She returned his smile. “Apart from smuggling, you mean?”

“I doubt if he would go somewhere so far afield to obtain smuggled goods from France. It that’s his business, there are many landing places much closer to his warehouses that would serve him better.”

“And pilchards, of course.”

“Ah yes, the famous Cornish pilchard fishing grounds.”

“The industry suffered badly during the war with Napoleon. Really, I wonder if that irritating little man appreciates the trouble he caused to honest folk. The townspeople patriotically formed a blockade to defend us against attack by the French.” Her lips quirked. “Unfortunately, in their fervour to serve King and country, they failed to take into account that they were also keeping the Looe fleet from reaching their fishing grounds. Their actions put considerable pressure on the town’s economy and, of course, it was all for nothing since Napoleon didn’t invade.”

“Somehow I doubt whether it’s the humble pilchard that has Peacock so animated.”

She screwed up her nose. “Animation is an emotion which eludes my guardian.”

But not his ward. She looked delectable when roused. Her cheeks were a becoming shade of pink, her eyes flashed with fiery indignation, and that damned gown he’d pretended not to notice made it hard to concentrate on the subject under discussion. Its neckline was high—no fichu required to protect her modesty on this occasion—but the outline of her body was graphically displayed beneath the thin silk. Too damned graphically for his comfort. Perdition, this wouldn’t do! She was little more than a child and he wasn’t in the habit of pursuing innocent females.

“I’m thinking this must have to do with copper mines,” he said, striving for a languid tone.

“The area’s riddled with them, but I’m not aware of there being any copper beneath the Wildes’ land. I don’t see how anyone else can think so either, and even if they do, it would probably cost more to extract it than it would fetch when sold. It’s not exactly a rare commodity.”

“Quite so.” Gabe rubbed his chin. “It’s a conundrum. Is the Wildes close to the coast?”

“Less than a mile. Two miles from Looe itself. The property in on a bluff and there’s a whole network of caves beneath it. I explored them extensively as a child and never found anything to particularly engage my interest.” She sent him a curious glance. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that your guardian badly wants control of the property.”

“Yes.” Miss Cantrell looked glum. “And even if I manage to get to Cornwall, he will eventually think to look for me there and bring me back again. Since it appears I have no business to be in my own home legally, there’s nothing I can do to resist him. Besides, if Fisher does admit to having seen me, I won’t even get that far.” She straightened an already rigidly erect spine. “I’ve trespassed on your hospitality long enough and must insist on leaving tomorrow. I’m sure Bianca’s fetlock will be up to taking me to Brighton and I’ll be quite safe at Charlotte’s for the time being.”

Gabe shook his head. “Out of the question.”

“You intend to abduct me too?” She raised an indignant brow. “I’d like to see you try.”

“No, m’dear. I mean to escort you to Cornwall.” This time his smile was intended as a challenge. “You’ve excited my curiosity and I’m keen to know what secrets your property is hiding from the world.”

She gasped. “Why would you do that? You’ve already been too kind to me and all I’ve given you in return is trouble.”

Why indeed? All Gabe knew was that he couldn’t let her go alone, which was what she would attempt if he let her leave here unescorted. She was feisty and impulsive, badly in need of guidance and protection.

His guidance and protection.

“Don’t worry about your reputation,” he said. “I’m sure Jessie would enjoy an excursion to Cornwall too.”

“But even if I agree to accept your company, my guardian will have people watching for me at the posting inns.”

“But not on the sea.”

She gasped. “What do you mean?”

“My brother’s boat is sitting idle here off Denby.”

“It’s your brother’s boat, not yours.”

“I sent him an express yesterday, advising him of your unexpected arrival at the Hall.”

“You did what!”

Gabe laughed. “I explained your problems and he replied at once, agreeing that we ought to get to the bottom of things. Are you a good sailor, Miss Cantrell?”

“I love the sea. Being born in Cornwall, it’s in my blood, but—”

“It will likely be a rough journey this time of year.”

Her smile was wide and infectious. “The rougher the better.”

“Then what say you we make our way to Cornwall by sea?”

Chapter Eight

For the first time since her father’s death, Miranda didn’t feel entirely alone. Comforted by Lord Gabriel’s generous protection, she was free to admit to herself just how frightened she’d actually been since Mr. Peacock started threatening her into capitulation. She hadn’t revealed the precise nature of those threats to Lord Gabriel, nor had she hesitated to accept his company for the journey to Cornwall. Perhaps that hadn’t been wise. It would be a mistake to lean on anyone else for too long, but she was desperate enough to take the risk.

She woke on the morning following their frank discussion, wiggled her limbs in the soft, luxurious bed and smiled up at its canopy, feeling safe, warm and cosseted. If—no, when—Mr. Peacock came looking for her, he would be in for a surprise. She would have an influential aristocrat and a boatload of sailors to protect her.

She didn’t dwell on how long that situation was likely to continue. One day at a time had become her mantra, simply because she no longer knew what the next one would bring. Lord Gabriel was full of zeal for the expedition at the moment. Perhaps that was because he was bored. The diversions he’d left town to pursue with his horses at the Hall weren’t available to him due to the inclement weather and so he’d cast himself in the role as her protector.

Miranda wondered about his true feelings for Miss Beth. If he was really in love then nothing would keep him away from his heart’s desire for long—certainly not an inconsequential nobody. Once they arrived in Cornwall, she very much doubted if a resolution to her problems would be readily apparent. Looe held few entertainments likely to detain a gentleman of his sophisticated tastes, and so he would soon lose interest and find a reason to return to Denby.

A meticulous planner, Miranda stuck to her one-day-at-a-time mantra and decided to let the future look after itself. She discovered that it was a liberating feeling.

“I must say it sounds exciting, miss,” Jessie said when she brought Miranda her breakfast. “Going by boat to Cornwall, I mean. I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“It’s likely to be rough, Jessie.”

“Let’s hope I don’t get sick then.”

“Yes, let’s hope not, especially since you’re being kind enough to come along. A lot of people do feel unwell, at least to start with, but you’ll soon find your sea legs once you get used to the motion.”

“How long with it take to get there?” Jessie already sounded a little less enthusiastic.

“It’s over two hundred miles.”

“Gosh, that far? I’ve never travelled more than twenty miles.”

“How long it takes will depend on the winds. If they favour us, we could be there in as little as three days and nights.”

Miranda hadn’t lost sight of the nights. Sleeping under the same roof as Lord Gabriel on dry land seemed perfectly innocuous. This house was enormous and she didn’t even know which wing his rooms were in. The thought of doing the same thing on a lurching ship was something else entirely, heralding the return of that fizzing sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. Lud, she’d run raving mad if this carried on!

Fortunately no one knew the lascivious nature of her thoughts. She excused them by reminding herself that she would have to be an old crone beyond the age of breeding not to get a little fanciful at the prospect of being confined at close quarters with such a man. She blamed the unconventional circumstances for her momentary lapse. She’d soon be herself again once Lord Gabriel left her at the Wildes, returned to his own life and forgot all about her.

“Then let’s hope for a following wind,” Jessie said with feeling, pouring Miranda a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “Lord Gabriel’s taking Munford with him. He don’t have a valet of his own, not like his brothers do, but Munford’s adaptable enough and is bound to make himself useful.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Lord Gabriel sent word that we won’t be leaving today. There’s a squall blowing up so he thinks we ought to wait until tomorrow.”

Another day to make sure Bianca continued to recover suited Miranda perfectly. Not that she doubted her horse would receive anything other than the very best of care, but still.

“I do hope Lord Gabriel will allow Tobias on the boat,” she said, reaching down to scratch her dog’s ears affectionately. “He wouldn’t like to be left behind, and I’d miss him dreadfully if we were parted.”

“I’m sure his lordship won’t object. He seems to have grown quite fond of the mutt himself.”

“And Tobias is equally devoted to his lordship.”

Jessie smiled. “The creature knows a soft touch when he sees one.”

“I’d hardly describe Lord Gabriel as soft.” Miranda stirred her drink vigorously and took a sip.

“He is when it comes to animals.” Jessie nodded vigorously. “Always has been, right from the moment he could first walk.”

She’d been exactly the same, but that meant nothing. It just gave them an interest in common—something for them to talk about and pass the time during their long sea journey.

Miranda finished her breakfast and Jessie helped her to dress in the only gown she’d brought with her, apart from her riding habit. It was a plain, practical garment made of stout cotton, better suited to a servant than a guest in this fine house. Miranda pulled a wry face, reminding herself not to get fancy ideas. Once she was back at the Wildes, practical garments would be a necessity in that draughty residence.

“I’ve been rummaging in the attics again, miss,” Jessie said. “Seeing as how you don’t have any clothes with you, I thought I’d see what I could find that might suit.”

“I’m grateful, Jessie, truly I am, but I’m not sure you should have done that.”

“Nonsense, the garments would only go to waste otherwise. Some of the things I found are out of fashion, but I don’t suppose you’ll mind about that.”

“Not in the least.” Gift horses sprang to Miranda’s mind. “What have you found for me then?”

Two dated but warm day dresses were produced, made in a thick woollen material. One was a deep purple, the other brown. Miranda refrained from wrinkling her nose at colours she didn’t favour. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. There was a velvet pelisse too, a pretty straw bonnet decorated with faded ribbons, and two shawls that had seen better days but which were thick and serviceable. Fortuitously there was also a pair of half-boots that fit Miranda very comfortably—a replacement for her only other practical footwear that let in water. The gowns were a perfect length for her but too large. They obviously hadn’t belonged to Lady Felicity but Miranda didn’t ask to whom she was indebted, preferring not to know. She already owed this fine family more than she could ever hope to repay without adding further dues to her account.

“I reckon I’ll spend the day taking these gowns in. Then I can re-trim that bonnet with fresh ribbons, and you’ll be right as rain. We can pack the two evening gowns you’ve worn while you’ve been here as well as the things you brought with you. It’ll be enough to see you through.”

It would be a more extensive wardrobe than Miranda had ever possessed in her life. “I’d offer to help you, Jessie, but when it comes to sewing I’d be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“Don’t you worry none, pet.” Jessie patted her hand. “I’ll have all this sorted before you can blink an eye. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Actually she hadn’t. It was snowing hard again and the wind was bitingly cold. Miranda pulled her thick cloak around her and braved the elements in order to check on Bianca and allow Tobias to attend to his business. Bianca appeared to be thriving and Tobias had no wish to linger outside. She half expected to see Lord Gabriel but there was no sign of him anywhere. Miranda pretended to herself that she wasn’t disappointed.

“Be sensible,” she told herself, settling in front of a blazing fire in the library, a book on her lap. He had better things to do than concern himself with her affairs every minute of every day.

That was probably true since she didn’t see him for the rest of the day. She knew, without being told, that he wasn’t in the house. The huge mansion felt empty in a way that it hadn’t since she’d arrived. When she returned to her room late in the afternoon, Jessie had finished her needlework and packed Miranda’s new wardrobe in a valise she’d obtained from somewhere.

“Do you want to go down to dinner tonight?” Jessie asked. “It’s just that Lord Gabriel isn’t dining at home so I wasn’t sure.”

Miranda turned away, anxious not to display her disappointment. “Then in that case I’ll dine in here. No point dressing and putting the servants to any bother.”

“Right you are, lamb. You just sit yourself by the fire and I’ll see what I can rustle up for you.”

*

Gabe spent the early part of the morning in the stud. Carter had everything under control and Gabe quickly felt surplus to requirements. He saw Miss Cantrell and Tobias venture out to check on Bianca but didn’t show himself. He was about to ride into Denby and didn’t need any distractions. He preferred not to dwell on the ease with which thoughts of his guest’s predicament crept up on him at the most inappropriate moments. And not just her predicament, but her personally too. Her lively wit and stark determination not to be bullied showed a maturity beyond her years and an independence of spirit that any man would admire.

There would be ample opportunity for admiration when they started out on their journey, at which time he would be in her company continuously. Today he would prove an obscure point to himself by ensuring that he didn’t see her at all. His intention was to stay in Denby for an hour or so to make sure Wright had everything under control. He needed to be aware if anyone else came sniffing around, asking questions about Miss Cantrell. He also needed to assure himself that Wright was ready to put to sea as soon as the forecasted squall passed through.

His plans changed when he found Wright and a few other members of the crew in the Boar’s Head, watching a stranger staring intently at the street rather than applying his attention to his ale.

“He’s been nursing that same tankard for over an hour,” Wright told Gabe.

The man was dressed in labourer’s clothes but seemed sharp and alert, his gaze seldom leaving the window that gave him the best view of any souls brave enough to venture out of doors in such weather.

“He’s not one of the men who were here last time?” Gabe asked.

“No.” Wright sniffed. “This one’s keeping a proper watch. Even Sally couldn’t distract him when I told her to try it.”

“Has he asked about Miss Cantrell?”

“No, he hasn’t said anything to anyone, far as I can tell. One of my boys tried to chat to him but got nowhere. It’s as though the other coves told him Miss Cantrell might be in the district and to wait her out. She’d be a simpleton to be abroad in this weather, but perhaps Fisher thinks she lives in the cottage she visited, which means she’d be bound to show herself eventually.”

“Has anyone been there asking after her?”

Wright shook his head. “No.”

“Well then, I was right. Fisher put himself first. He didn’t tell Peacock that he saw Miss Cantrell here in Denby and was then careless enough to lose her. You’re probably right to say he sent this fellow to do his work for him.”

“Want me to get rid of him?”

“No, let’s wait and see what he does. He’ll get fed up and leave eventually, and I’d like to know where he goes when he does.”

Gabe settled down with Wright and waited. The watcher ordered some food and another tankard of ale. He sat over it for two hours, then finally got up and left, still without speaking a word to anyone. Wright’s men followed him, leaving Gabe and Wright alone.

“The weather’s getting up,” Gabe said. “You ought to get back to
The Celandine
while you still can.”

“Right enough. Where will you be if we have any news about our friend?”

“Sir Darius is down from London for the night. I’m dining with him at Brightstone Manor, then I’ll be back at the Hall. Unless anything changes, Miss Cantrell and I will be here ready to leave with the morning tide.”

Gabe rode to Brightstone Manor and was warmly received by his sister’s husband, Sir Darius Grantley, a barrister recently made King’s Counsel.

“When I wrote asking for advice on a legal matter,” Gabe said, “I didn’t expect you to reply in person.”

“I needed to come down for a couple of days, anyway. I had some papers to collect and wanted to make sure my mother was comfortable.” Darius chuckled. “Acting as chaperone to your unexpected houseguest perked her up no end.”

A servant could easily have been sent to collect the papers Darius needed. Hal was behind this unexpected visit, if Gabe was any judge. He wanted to be sure that Gabe wasn’t getting himself into deep water without actually interfering himself. Hal took his duties as head of the family a little too seriously sometimes. “How are my sister and my niece?”

“Your sister is your sister still, and our daughter’s a delight.” Darius’s smile was the type that only a proud new father could execute. Gabe had seen it on Hal’s face often enough since the birth of his son.

They spoke about general things with Mrs. Grantley while they ate. Darius gave an amusing account of a case he’d just defended at the Bailey regarding a runaway pig and a butcher’s dog. Gabe talked about his plans for the stud. Only when Mrs. Grantley had excused herself and the servants were dismissed did Darius raise the subject that Gabe was anxious to know more about.

“I’m glad you asked me about Nesbitt,” he said, settling into a well-worn comfortable chair on one side of the fire, brandy glass in hand.

“Why do you say that?” Gabe took the chair opposite and sipped his own drink.

“I’ve heard a few whispers about him recently. Nothing specific, but you know how it is. A name comes up often enough in dubious circumstances and one starts to take notice.”

“Dubious in what respect?”

“There are rumours of biased advice on property matters—”

“Property?” Gabe sat a little straighter. “Can you be more specific?”

“It would help if I knew why you wanted to know.”

Gabe told Darius all about Miss Cantrell’s ownership of the Wildes and her trustees’ desperate attempts to get their hands on it.