The Prince of Ravenscar (24 page)

Pouffer asked Devlin as he poured port, “My lord, I understand your father is a leader in the House of Lords.”

The old man was quite the diplomat, Julian thought, and sat back to listen to Devlin talk about his father, Julian's half-brother.

When silence fell again, Julian said, “I fear you and I will not be able to speak civilly to each other, Richard. Therefore, I suggest we join the ladies.” He added after a brief moment, “Richard, I daresay you know what you're doing with Roxanne's sister. She obviously does not wish to be here. Perhaps you wish to return to Hardcross Manor with her in tow?”

“Oh, no,” Richard said easily, stretched out in his chair, his hands clasped over his lean belly. “I fancy it amusing to see Leah's sister and her niece try not to slap her.”

Devlin set down his port, leaned back in his chair, and swung his leg over the armchair. “Have you ever seen her unpleasant before?”

Richard was thoughtful, then shook his head. “I must make it a point to tell her to admire Ravenscar, not despise it, for I myself have always admired this vast pile of stone. Surely she would wish to be of one mind with me. Also, I will remind her she is to admire the water closets.”

Devlin said, “You can never count on ladies to do the expected thing. Do you know my mother?”

Richard shook his head.

“I have, needless to say, known her all my life. At home, I have never seen her agree with my father, not one single time, but in company she is so compliant, agreeing with everything that comes out his mouth, it makes me stare. I find myself wondering—are all ladies like this? Do none of them even like their husbands? Is their behavior in polite society a sham?”

Richard never looked away from Devlin's face. He said slowly, “It appears I must think about this.”

When they joined the ladies a scant ten minutes later, Leah was seated, silent and docile as a lamb, next to the dowager duchess, admiring her needlework. Roxanne and Sophie were off by themselves, obviously arguing about something.

What was it? Julian wondered.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING

 

 

 

J
ulian wasn't surprised when he heard Sophie's light footsteps behind him. He sighed as he turned to her. “I had hoped you would not notice my leaving. It did not enter my mind that you would follow me.” Well, it had, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

She smiled at him as she stepped into the low-hanging cave entrance. “You were clever, asking Pouffer to say you were riding to Ravenscar Village to hire men to clean up the Dower House and begin the rebuilding. However, Cannon was still in his stall. Then I saw you walking this way, looking shifty and secretive, so I followed you.”

There was a touch of humor in his voice as he said, “I should have waited until midnight.”

“I am a light sleeper. I would have heard you pass by my bedchamber and followed.” She paused, then stepped in farther and stared. He was standing not six feet away from her, holding a lit lantern. “Goodness, this is amazing. Where is the ceiling? How big is the cave? Oh, my, look at all those formations. What are they called?”

He grinned at her, couldn't help it. She'd outwitted him. “Come on in, I'll show you everything.”

He pointed out a formation of stalactites that looked like a pipe organ in a church, raised the lantern high so she could see the cave ceiling. “And look over here, I swear it looks like Oliver. One of his ears is longer than the other.” He found himself telling her boyhood stories of when he'd protected his cave from the French. “I remember fighting to the death many times.”

“You always won?”

“Naturally.”

“Do you know, I've only been in one cave before—Roxanne's small cave in Yorkshire. It was quite paltry, really; you had to bend nearly double to walk inside. But this one is grand, indeed. And now . . .” She walked right up to him, came onto her tiptoes, and said an inch from his nose, “Why are you here, Julian?”

Lie. No, give it up.
“I'm a smuggler, have been for a very long time. My favorite landing beach and cave are near Chichester, at Saint Osyth. The last time I brought in smuggled goods, I knew someone was watching. It didn't take me long to figure out it was Richard.”

“When was this?”

“Not long ago. But I knew I wanted one final run before I retired. I decided it would be safe here, even though Richard lives only a couple of miles away. When I was here yesterday—”

“That's all right. I knew you were lying when you spoke of walking in the home wood. Listen, there is no way Richard could find out.”

She gave him a blazing smile, clasped his hands in hers. “It will be our secret. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, including Roxanne. Does Devlin know about your . . . hobby?”

“Hobby? That makes it sound like a lad collecting seashells. Actually, it is illegal, Sophie, and dangerous. Excisemen are out to catch smugglers. They're a ruthless lot.”

“But you're right, no one will know—particularly, Richard.”

“I hope you're right. I actually think of smuggling as a service to my fellow countrymen. I make goods available that don't carry the heavy import duties. Ah, but the truth is—it is a lot of fun.”

She lightly touched her fingertips to his cheek. “It is also something that is yours, isn't it, Julian? Just yours.”

He said, “You asked about Devlin. I took him along with me some five years ago, after he'd come down from Oxford. I told him no more, since the future Duke of Brabante couldn't very well take the chance of being deported to Botany Bay if caught. He's argued with me, but I've held firm. He quite liked landing the boats, trading midnight jests with my men, and unloading the goods.” Julian didn't mention the profits, which were usually quite substantial.

Sophie said, “Do you know, Devlin is particularly well suited to smuggling, since it always happens in the middle of the night. Add a full moon, and he'd be in heaven. But wait, you wouldn't want a full moon; the darker the better.”

He laughed. She joined him, their laughter echoing all around them. She thought she sounded like a braying donkey and quickly shut her mouth. Julian thought it a shame he could no longer hear the sweet sparkling bells. He said, “It isn't a lark, Sophie; one must be very careful. I never bribed any of the excisemen before. Why let them dip their hands in my pockets?”

“I shouldn't want them in my pockets, either,” she said. “It sounds very exciting, but I will tell you I am relieved this is your final time.”

He watched her. He was coming to know her so well, since now he knew exactly what she was thinking. He lightly tapped his fingers to her nose. “No, you may not come with me. I mean it, Sophie, it is simply too dangerous. No.”

She looked like she would argue with him, then, suddenly, she gave him a fat smile. “Very well, Julian, whatever you say. Can we explore?”

“There isn't anything more, only this one huge room.”

“When is your last shipment coming in?”

“I must contact my man in Portsmouth, give him instructions. I'm thinking ten days from now. There will be no moon, and given we are in Cornwall, it is likely to be very overcast. No, my girl, you will not even consider trying to sneak here.”

Sophie gave him a beatific smile, rubbed her hands together. “Of course not. Now, I know smuggling is dishonest, but goodness, Julian, what adventures you've had.”

“Usually, everything goes very smoothly. The goods are moved days later to London, and my man Harlan Whittaker sells to our particular buyers.” He studied her face. “You're lying to me, Sophie. I can see that clever brain of yours working out how to sneak to the beach.”

“Do you know, I've never had a single full-bodied adventure before in my life? I am twenty years old, Julian. Think of all the adventures you had before you were my age. You were in the battle at Waterloo! Come, one time, that's all I ask. There won't be any danger, you said so yourself. One real adventure for me and I shall be content for the rest of my days. It will be safe. No excisemen know about this cave. Richard won't find out about any of it.”

She saw he was wavering.

“I am so tired of reading about other people's adventures. Just one for me.”

He didn't believe it, but he actually nodded.

“Yes! You are wonderful; nothing will happen.” She threw her arms around him.

Julian remained frozen to the spot. He felt her warm and soft against the length of him. “No,” he said, and took a step back, but Sophie didn't release him, she simply stepped with him. She looked up at him, smiled. “You are not my uncle, Julian. You are my partner.”

“A partner, Sophie?” he asked carefully.

“Yes, I will help direct in the boats, perhaps help unload contraband. Or if you prefer, I could keep a watch for excisemen. I can do it all, Julian; you will see how very useful I am.”

She still hadn't released him. He felt the excitement in her. She was so young, so protected. She was a lady; she wasn't meant to have dangerous adventures like men—well, maybe men weren't, either. He took her arms in his hands, intending to set her away from him, but his hands didn't obey him. His hands, attached to his arms, went around her and drew her in close, too close, so close, in fact, he could feel her heart pounding against him. She was tall, and that was quite fine, every bit of her against every bit of him, a perfect fit.

He lowered his head, but not all that far. “No,” he said, even as he lightly touched his mouth to hers. “No, I can't do this. It isn't right. You are far too young, you—”

“Be quiet, Julian,” Sophie said against his mouth, and this time she kissed him, her warm breath feathering over him. His mouth opened, something he hadn't planned, but she didn't jump back, horrified, as surely an innocent maid should do. No, Sophie let out a little sound of surprise, then opened her own mouth. Not all that wide, but a little bit, enough to make him forget he should be running out of this cave as fast as he could. But he said the words, and they actually hurt. “Listen to me, Sophie, this will stop now. Keep your tongue in your mouth. Move back three steps. Maybe four.”

She drew back three inches, stared at him. “My heart is pounding rather loudly. Can you hear it? Can you feel it?” And she moved back in, nearly as close as his shirt.

He could both hear and feel her heart. He lowered his forehead to hers. “Keep your tongue in your mouth.” He made the mistake of looking down at her mouth, her lips slightly parted, soft.

She said, “If your tongue doesn't stay in your mouth, then why should mine? Shouldn't our tongues be together? I mean, I've never thought about tongues before—doing this—I suppose it is considered a magical addition to a regular kiss?”

Magical?
She didn't know the half of it.

“You know, Julian, I think I would like to do it again. Can we perhaps try a little bit?”

“Be quiet. It is not a good idea. No, obey me on this.” And he raised a finger and placed it over her mouth. “Don't argue with me about this tongue business. It is always a prelude to other sorts of things—”

“Like what?”

“Be quiet.”

“But how will I learn anything if these other sorts of things aren't explained to me?”

“It will be up to your future husband to explain other things to you. It is time we left here.”

He sounded like a pompous disapproving parent. Disappointment bloomed in her, and a dollop of nice cold anger. She wanted to kick him, then she wanted to throw herself at him and take him down to the sandy cave floor. Then she didn't know what she wanted to do, but she did know she'd make sure tongues were involved.
What other sorts of things?

But it was not to be. Julian held firm. He took her hand and dragged her to the cave entrance. When they walked out into the overcast morning, rain hovering over the next rise, Sophie said, “The cave is fairly well hidden, and only a dozen feet from the river shore. I believe its destiny was to be a smuggling cave.”

He was a moron to let her be a part of his final hoorah. Her first and last adventure. She'd be safe enough, he'd make sure of that. No one knew about this cave, no one—well, Richard did, but there was no way Richard would find out what he planned. He nodded and led her to the edge of the River Horvath. “A boat can swing into the river and be here in fifteen minutes.” He looked back at the cave. If one wasn't really looking for it, it couldn't be seen, what with the vines hanging over the entrance and the bushes growing wildly around it.
One last time,
he thought,
one last time.

But what if something did go wrong? No, nothing could happen. Nothing.

R
oxanne walked into the drawing room to find Sophie seated in a wing chair, smiling. “Whatever are you so pleased about, Sophie?”

Sophie, who had Cletus and Oliver on her lap, stroking their silky, long ears, looked up. “Pleased? Well, it is a lovely day, now, isn't it? It hasn't begun raining yet.”

“I know you. You were humming. You've been humming since this morning. And now that I really look at you, I realize you look different. I can't tell what it is about you, exactly, but—”

Sophie lifted Cletus under one arm, Oliver under the other, and rose. “Do you know, I fancy I like Ravenscar.”
And its master, the prince.
She gave Roxanne a brilliant smile and walked from the drawing room.