Smuggler's Glory (20 page)

Something wasn’t right.

Picking
a blanket off the back of a chaise, she drew it around her
shoulders and went to the kitchens. It was as empty and lifeless as
it had been the last time she checked it. She moved to the
fireplace and frowned at the empty spot where the bucket of water
was usually kept. Had Madeline not returned from the
well?

She
moved to the window, wondering where Bertie and Simon were, and why
they hadn’t returned from Launceston already. A shiver of fear
settled deep in her belly at the thought that she might have to
spend the night in the house alone. Puffing out her cheeks, she
studied the ominous clouds gathering in the skies above, blocking
out all sign of daylight. The clock above the fireplace assured her
that it was past four o’clock and, although dusk had started to
descend, it was far darker outside because of the approaching
storm.

Where
was Madeline? Francesca searched the sitting room and kitchen for
any sign of a note but couldn’t find anything. A quick check of
Madeline’s room revealed a neatly made bed, and tidy dresser, but
no Madeline. Frowning, Francesca moved toward the window.
Madeline’s room overlooked the rear of the house, including the
stable yard but because of the poor light outside, it was
impossible to see anything. When another shard of lightening lit
the sky, she quickly drew the curtains and turned toward the room.
A thought popped into her head and she stole a guilty look at the
door.

Could
she do it? Should she? By searching Madeline’s room while she
wasn’t there, she was all but confirming that she didn’t trust her
companion. But this was the perfect opportunity to uncover some of
Madeline’s secrets. If there was anything, any old letters, or
personal items that gave Francesca some idea of what her friend was
so desperately trying to keep hidden, surely she owed it to
herself, and her uncle’s memory, as well as Simon and Bertie to
find out what they were? She knew Simon wouldn’t miss the
opportunity, but could she?

Guilt
stole through her as she opened the top drawer of one of the two
items of furniture in the room. Although Francesca had pleaded with
her friend to take one of the more opulent guest rooms, Madeline
had insisted on living in the less furnished room in the far corner
of the first floor. It contained a single utilitarian bed, a chest
of drawers and a small chair that had been repaired so many times,
it was only luck holding it together.

She felt
like she was committing some sort of crime as she rifled through
Madeline’s familiar clothes. Skirts, petticoats and undergarments
were all very well worn, if somewhat shabby. One or two outer
dressers were of an old fashion and had clearly been worn hundreds
of times. Francesca had insisted on paying her friend as a
companion and had furnished her with higher than average
recompense. It had taken many hours of arguing for Francesca to
persuade Madeline to accept the reward for having to live so far
away from society and all of the luxuries it offered. So why wasn’t
any of it being spent of purchasing better clothing? Was Madeline
saving up for something?

Francesca frowned and continued to search the rest of the
drawers, perturbed when she found nothing of a personal nature in
any of Madeline’s belongings. It was as though she had no previous
life.
Well, none that she wanted to
remember anyway
, Francesca thought. But
why? At some point over the course of her life she would have been
given things; little trinkets and the like that she wanted to keep,
so where were they? She didn’t appear to have even kept the letters
Francesca had sent her.

Shaking
her head in consternation, Francesca quickly closed the drawer and
rose to her knees. She was so deep in thought as she wandered back
through the corridors that at first she wasn’t aware of the soft
thumps coming from her bedroom. Until particularly loud thump drew
her attention. Her heart hammered alarmingly in her throat.
Thinking it was Madeline, she moved to the doorway and gasped at
the sight of a stranger searching through her drawers.

Her soft
gasp drew the man’s attention and he spun around to stare at her
with such malice that Francesca immediately felt sick with fear.
She didn’t stop to think, merely spun on her heel and ran as fast
as her feet could carry her, down the stairs and through the hall
toward the back of the house. She could hear the thumping of heavy
boots behind her, but daren’t slow her pace to look behind her. She
was running so fast that she pushed the door to the kitchen open
with such force that it slammed back against the dresser and hit
her side as she flew through the doorway. It was enough to send her
careering off balance, landing over the table with a painful
thud.

Gasping
against the pain in her hip, she lunged for the back door,
wrenching it open with all of her might, slamming it loudly behind
her. Blinded by the darkness outside, she ran forward driven by
fear and the raging storm. Within seconds of being outside she was
soaked from head to toe, but was oblivious to everything but the
need to escape.

She
screamed when she slammed into a solid wall of masculine
flesh.

“
What the –”

She
began to wriggle and squirm against the firm hands that were
holding her steady. “Let me go,” she pleaded, tears streaming from
her eyes as panic held her in its firm grip. “Please, I’ve done you
no harm.”

“
Calm down, miss,” the richly masculine voice ordered from
above. She sucked in a sob and glanced upward at the same time that
the firm hold was immediately loosened. The sudden move made her
stumble backward. She was about to run for her life when another
pair of arms swept around her only this time, the voice above her
was achingly familiar.

“
What is it, Francesca? What’s happened?”

Francesca stared up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone is
in my room, upstairs. A strange man.” She was aware of a sudden
flurry of movement behind her and watched in amazement as another
stranger burst through the kitchen door and disappeared into the
house at the same time as the first man ran around the corner of
the house toward the abandoned wing.

“
It’s alright, darling, they are with me,” Simon murmured,
savouring the feel of her warmth against him.

At her
blank look, Bertie sidled closer. “They are here to help,” he said
calmly, looking at her in concern before switching his gaze toward
the house. “Where’s Madeline?”

Francesca began to sob. “I-I don’t know,” she whispered,
unsure if anyone heard her.

“
Let’s get out of this wind,” Simon suggested gently, realising
that he hadn’t warned either Archie or Pie to be careful if they
needed to chase anyone across the moors.

Once
inside the kitchens, he watched as Bertie immediately moved to
light a fire.

“
Where’s the bucket?” he said when he went to pour water to put
on the fire to boil.

“
I saw Madeline at the well earlier, but for some reason she
hasn’t come back.” She was too busy wiping her eyes to notice the
telling look that passed between Simon and Bertie.

“
Lost him,” Pie gasped, returning to the kitchen angrily.
“Damned idiot jumped out of the window. Served him right if he
broke his blasted neck.” He stopped and stared at Francesca,
looking abashed at his free use of bad language. “Erm, sorry,
ma’am,” he mumbled, shooting Simon an apologetic look.

Simon
squatted down in front of Francesca and tucked a blanket around her
shoulders. She looked adorable wrapped in the blanket with her hair
hanging in wet abandon over her shoulders. If it wasn’t for the
lingering fear in her tear-stained eyes, he would have been more
than happy to kiss her into relaxing against him. As it was, he had
more pressing matters to contend with, like finding the missing
companion.

Rubbing
her frozen fingers, he waited patiently for her to calm down. He
was about to ask her what had happened that afternoon when Archie
reappeared at the kitchen door.

“
Nope, sorry. Ran for his life over the moors, but I got a good
look at him,” he grinned, rubbing his bruised knuckles.

Simon
grinned at him, pleased that someone had sought to teach them a
brief and brutal lesson they wouldn’t forget in a hurry. He was
still relieved beyond words that Hugo had sought fit to send
reinforcements. At least it meant now that Francesca could have the
protection she deserved while he went after the
smugglers.

“
Tell me what happened, Francesca,” he asked softly, ignoring
the careful study of his comrades. “From when you first got up this
morning.”

“
I came downstairs and tried to talk to Madeline but she was in
a bad temper and wouldn’t speak to me. I decided to leave her to it
and went about finishing the inventory. By late morning she was
slamming around in here something awful and I decided to have it
out with her. She was clearly angry at the way I had behaved toward
Mr Lindsay last night, but by the time I got here she was already
at the well and drawing the bucket up so I returned to the
inventory. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I woke
up a while ago to find the house quiet and empty. I searched the
house but she wasn’t here, and I couldn’t see outside. I searched
her room, Simon,” she admitted guiltily, glancing down at her feet
in misery.

“
What did you find?” Simon had not had the opportunity to go
through Madeline’s room himself because she rarely left the house.
At least Francesca had had the forethought to take the opportunity
that was presented to her.

“
Nothing,” Francesca sighed with a frown. She lifted her
beautiful eyes to his in confusion. “Absolutely nothing. There are
no pictures, no letters, no little trinkets ladies usually like to
keep to remind them of better times, or those closest to us.
Nothing.” She studied the dark frown

that
settled over Simon’s face in consternation. “I searched the
drawers, everywhere. There is nothing to say she even has a life,
let alone one she wants to remember.”

“
What happened when you finished the search?”

“
I was wondering where everyone had got to, when I heard
thumping coming from my bedroom. I thought it was Madeline so went
to the doorway only to find that – that man -” she fought to
control the fear that still lingered and shook her head when she
couldn’t find the words to describe the emotions that had tumbled
through her. “I ran. I just turned and fled. He chased me through
the house and, well, you know the rest.”

Simon
nodded, studying her pale cheeks, and the worry clearly etched on
her delicate features. “I think it would be best if you moved to
another room for now,” he suggested softly. “It might help you to
sleep better if you don’t have the memory of him invading your
space.”

Francesca nodded silently, certain that he was right. “Why
are you so late?”

“
That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Archie declared apologetically,
moving forward and bowing almost theatrically before her. “Archie
Balfour, ma’am, at your service.”

Simon
shook his head ruefully at his friend’s attempt to lighten the
sombre atmosphere within the kitchen.

“
This here is Pie Masters,” Archie nodded to the tall man
beside him.

“
P-pie?” Francesca’s brows rose.

“
Because I love pies, ma’am,” the big man replied gently. “It’s
a nickname.”

Francesca merely nodded and smiled gently at them.

“
They are your - ,” she hesitated, trying to find the right
word.

“
Associates,” Simon finished for her. “They have come to help.
The moors are too big, and there are too many people involved in
this for me to do this by myself. I need more hands. They will be
here to keep watch over the house in case we have any more
visitors.”

He
chafed her hands again, concerned at the fine trembling he could
still feel in her fingers.

“
I’ll go and find a bucket to get some water,” Bertie said,
moving toward the door.

Simon
nodded silently to Archie, who beat the old man to the door. “I’ll
go. If you tell me where the well is, I’ll get it.”

Francesca felt the tension rise in the room but was at a loss
to understand the cause. Her gaze turned to Simon, who seemed to be
unaware that he was still stroking her hand. The gentle rhythmic
motion was distracting and making it difficult for her to think but
she couldn’t bring herself to break the contact. Simon’s hand over
hers felt incredibly warm at a time when she felt chilled to the
bone. She knew that as far as he was concerned, it was a simple
kindly gesture aimed at placating a hysterical female. For her, it
was another reminder of what lay between them that could never be
acknowledged and it broke her heart. She fought the urge to lay her
head on his broad shoulder and sob her heart out for her imminent
loss.

She was
still lost in thought when, moments later, Archie appeared in the
door with a full bucket of water in his hand.

“
Simon, can I have a word with you?” He handed the bucket to
Pie along with a warning look. Pie had been in the business long
enough to know what
that
look meant, and the news wasn’t good.