Smuggler's Glory (26 page)

He still didn’t know if his love of Thistledown was because he
could see the hidden beauty that would be revealed by some tender
loving care, or whether it was because it was such a large part of
who Francesca was. Either way, he knew it was now a large part of
him too; of who
he
was now, and he simply couldn’t ignore it.

When a
particularly loud wail broke his thoughts, he broke the kiss and
turned toward the carriage.

“
I sir, am Francesca’s husband,” he snarled, drawing himself up
to his full height. He ignored Francesca’s soft gasp from beside
him and glared ominously at the grey-haired man who was clearly
outraged.

“
And who might you be?” Hillier demanded disparagingly, raking
Simon from head to toe with a contemptuous glare.

“
I, sir, am the third Earl of Marlbrook and I would strongly
recommend you speak about my wife, Lady Marlbrook, in more amiable
tones, or I shall see to it that you are driven off this property
and your disgraceful show of ill-mannered behaviour is known within
every social circle of worth.” Simon felt very much like his
formidable father as he glared down his patrician nose at
Francesca’s sire. “Now, I do believe my wife has made her feelings
perfectly clear. Seeing as you have seen fit to travel all this way
without having the common decency to announce your arrival,
especially knowing you have not been invited, I am sure you will
understand that Thistledown is currently undergoing extensive
renovations to return it to its former glory. We are not in a
position to accommodate guests, even ones such as yourselves.
Meantime, as my wife says, I am sure you will find an adequate
coaching inn, but maybe you should try further afield, maybe in -
,” he glanced down at Francesca enquiringly, “Oxfordshire, was
it?”

Francesca’s lips twitched as she absorbed the priceless look
on her father’s face. He didn’t know whether to be blissfully
happy, or outraged that he had been thwarted in such a
fashion.

“
I do believe that any future communication should be directed
through my solicitors, Kepplewhite, Ambleton and Bestwick, Mayfair,
London.” He took several steps back, drawing Francesca with him.
“Simmington! Drive on and don’t stop until you reach
Oxfordshire.”

The
sound of wailing from within the carriage could be heard as it
trundled away, leaving blessed silence in its wake.

“
Just tell me one thing,” Simon asked, shaking his head
ruefully at her.

“
What’s that?”

“
Are you frequently prone to such fiery fits of
temper?”

Francesca wrinkled up her nose and felt her cheeks flood with
embarrassment. “I’m sorry, it was very unladylike of me, but I
simply cannot stand them being here. You have no idea what they are
like.”

“
Oh, I think I do,” Simon sighed, wondering how someone so
horrible could create such a gracious beauty as Francesca. No
wonder James Hillier had taken her under his wing and adopted her.
He felt a strange kinship for the man, and gratitude for his
generosity toward the young woman beside him.

Turning
her gently toward the house, he closed the front door behind them
with a sigh of relief, pleased to have been able to ease the strain
of another of her problems.

Francesca was still struggling with the shock of Simon’s
actions. Not only announcing she was his wife, but also declaring
his love for her. She daren’t even think about the kiss he had
given her. Had it all been pretend? She wasn’t sure and didn’t know
how to ask.

“
You two aren’t married, are you?” Archie asked with a frown,
wondering if he had missed something.

Simon
shook his head and smiled. “But they don’t know that. Even if they
do have the temerity to check, they have no idea where we married
to be able to check the parish records.

“
Clever,” Archie replied, pulling a face. “I thought for a
minute there that I had missed the event of the year.”

“
What?” Simon asked incredulously. “Is it implausible that I
might consider marriage one day?”

“
Not you, Simon. Of all of us, you are the last one who would
be snared by the parson’s trap.” Pie shook his head and disappeared
into the kitchens.

Francesca felt her heart break as the cold wash of reality
swept over her. She realised then that the show outside had been
for display only. Simon being Simon, knowing he was leaving, had
done whatever he could to help protect her from threat, even from
her own family.

For one brief, glorious moment, standing outside in the
sunshine, with his loving eyes glinting down at her, and his
wonderful lips smiling so affectionately, it had felt like she was
living a dream. His husky words of love still echoed in her soul.
The thought that she would never hear them again, never see
him
again, broke her
heart into a thousand tiny pieces. She didn’t know whether to love
him or hate him.

She
suddenly felt the need to be by herself, and hung back while Simon,
Bertie and Archie disappeared into the kitchen after
Pie.

That was it
, Francesca thought
morosely.
The last tentative remnants of
her connection to family were well and truly severed.
Although she wasn’t entirely convinced that greed
wouldn’t encourage them to make a return journey, just to convince
themselves that Simon was who he said he was, and was as wealthy as
titled gentlemen usually were. If it brought her a few more weeks
of peace to recover from the ordeal of losing Simon, then she could
only be grateful for his involvement in her problems. If only he
could have thought of another way to help her.

Laying
everything down at her feet, and then snatching it all away in the
guise of subterfuge, was too cruel. She was aware that Pie and
Archie had known Simon for a long time. It was unsurprising that
they were familiar with Simon’s aversion to the ‘parson’s trap’ as
they called it.

She
suddenly felt the walls closing in on her and had to struggle to
contain the flood of tears that threatened. She had spent many days
of her youth walking mile after mile across the moors. They called
to her now, drawing her out into the wild, so unpredictable, so
untamed, so unfettered by the demands of people that she yearned to
be a part of it. It was impossible to out-run heartbreak, she knew
that, but she could at least seek brief respite from it. If only
for a few hours.

Fetching
her cloak from her room, she swept out of the front door moments
later, and flew down the steps, dragging her cloak around her
shoulders as she went. At the fountain she paused. Left or right?
She could see the part of the path where she had met Charlie and
Tom only a few short weeks ago, and immediately turned in the other
direction. The memory of a trail she hadn’t used in an age came
back to her. She couldn’t be entirely sure she could remember where
it ran, but knew it would take her several hours to walk all the
way around. With luck, by the time she returned to Thistledown, the
men would have made their final preparations, and she could retire
to bed without having to meet Simon again. She couldn’t bear the
thought of a drawn-out goodbye. She didn’t trust herself not to
cling to him and make ridiculous declarations that were grounded in
truth rather than subterfuge.

At no
point during her escape did she think to leave a note to Simon
informing him of her decision.

“
Do you think she has fallen asleep somewhere?” Pie asked,
watching Simon glance toward the door for the hundredth time since
they left the hallway.

Simon
was trying to keep control of his fear. It was a highly unusual
emotion that he wasn’t familiar with. It made his thoughts far too
jumbled. When her parents had left, he had assumed that Francesca
had gone to her room for something and had expected her to appear
in the kitchens. When she didn’t, he had planned to go in search of
her only to be waylaid by Pie who wanted to go through the plans
they had made for the following day. It wasn’t lost on Simon that
he had yet to discuss leaving with Francesca. Glancing out of the
window, he was surprised to see dusk was already beginning to
descend.

“
I’ll go and check,” he murmured, feeling the small hairs on
the back of his neck stand on end. “There’s something wrong, I just
know it.”

He knew
he should have sought a private conversation with Francesca as soon
as her parents’ carriage had left the driveway, but he had still
been struggling with surprise at his own depth of love for her. It
bothered him that she hadn’t sought him out and asked for
clarification.

A quick
check of the downstairs rooms revealed them to be empty. Taking the
stairs two at a time, he arrived at his room feeling slightly
deflated, to find it empty. Francesca’s room, as well as the rest
of the upper floors, were all empty. In the attic room he moved to
the window and stared out into the encroaching darkness.

Had she
been taken? If so, why? Had someone been watching earlier and seen
the possessive arm he had put around her? Cursing fluidly, he spun
away from the window and raced for the stairs, yelling for Pie and
Archie as he went. Unsurprisingly they were halfway up the main
staircase, guns drawn by the time he reached the upper
landing.

“
Francesca’s gone,” he spat, sweeping past them and racing into
the kitchen. It didn’t seem possible to think that she would
actually want to be outside in the pouring rain. The night they had
discovered Madeline’s body swept before him in horrifying detail.
It had been raining that night, too. Closing his eyes, he tried to
keep the fear at bay and think logically. Panicking could get her
killed.

Puffing
out his cheeks, he stared blankly at his hands, unsure where to
start. “Did she just go for a walk and get lost?”

“
She knows the moors like the back of her hand,” Bertie replied
wisely. “She won’t get lost. If you just wait a while, she will be
back soon.”

“
How do you know?” Simon demanded, refusing to be
mollified.

“
Because Francesca is as wild as the moors she lives in. Just
as beautiful, too. She spent many hours walking mile after mile
around the moors with her uncle, mulling over problems and
discussing solutions. It was where she was happiest, besides here.”
Bertie nodded to Simon. “Having her parents turn up on her doorstep
will be what done it. You know, upset her. When the moors have
worked their magic, she will come back. Wetter, colder but far more
at peace with her lot. You’ll see.”

Simon
wanted to shake the man for his lax care of her. Bertie might be
prepared to sit back and allow night to descend, but he wasn’t so
casual. Not about this. Not about Francesca’s safety. He should be
getting some rest before they left for their mission, but it was
impossible to consider settling down with Francesca out on the
moors, alone.

“
I’m going to check around,” Simon muttered, waving Pie and
Archie back down and glancing at Bertie, who was watching him with
a knowing glint in his eye.

“
You’re going on a fool’s errand,” Bertie reported. “She’ll be
back and you won’t, then what will you do when you have walked
miles around the moor for nothing?”

Simon
paused beside the back door. Dusk hadn’t settled completely and it
was still light enough to see. While darkness was held in abeyance,
there was every chance that he could see her if she was heading
home, as long as he found himself a high spot with a good view of
the surrounding area. He was mentally running through possible
locations when a flurry of movement at the top end of the stable
yard drew his attention. He practically sagged with relief at the
sight of her walking toward him.

The
bottom of her dress was ruined. Her walking boots stained and
muddy. With her hair hanging down in damp curls around her face,
she looked like an orphan. He had to struggle with the urge to
sweep her into his arms and chastise her for scaring
him.

Now that
he was assured that she was safe, he felt his blood begin to
boil.

“
Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” he bellowed,
slamming the door behind her with so much force that it rattled
alarmingly in the frame.

Francesca stood before him, dripping all over the floor, and
simply stared. “I needed some fresh air to think.”

“
Fresh - .” Simon shook his head, aghast that she could be so
blindingly stupid. “Might I remind you that there are dangerous
murderers running loose? Do you have any idea what could have
happened if they had come across you?”

Francesca merely shrugged unconcernedly. “I didn’t see
anyone.” Indeed, there were several times over the course of her
walk that she had thought she was the only person left in the
country. She had crested the top of an escarpment and been able to
see for miles, and hadn’t spotted a single person. It bothered her
that despite her best efforts, the moor hadn’t been able to soothe
her battered soul the way it used to.

“
Did you not think to leave a note? Call to us that you were
leaving? Anything?” Simon asked, fighting the urge to shake
her.