Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife Page 13

  Eve recoiled, shocked. ‘Madam, I could not! It would be most improper.’

  ‘La, but who is to know?’ replied Lady Chelston, smiling. ‘It is just such a spree as your mama would have liked.’

  ‘Not if she was newly widowed!’

  Lady Chelston’s smile slipped a little, as if she realised she had gone too far. She sighed. ‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said, rising. ‘I can see that you are not convinced, my dear, but believe me, a little lively company, a little stimulating conversation—it can work wonders in assuaging your grief. But your countenance tells me you are determined to refuse me today. Well, I shall send you an invitation nevertheless; perhaps when you have thought it over you may change your mind.’ She reached out for Eve’s hands and took them, smiling down at her. ‘You are far too young and pretty to bury yourself away, my dear. Send me word at Chelston Hall if there is anything I can do for you.’

  ‘Thank you, my lady, but I am at a loss to know why you should be so eager to befriend me.’

  Lady Chelston’s blue-grey eyes widened. ‘So frank—how refreshing,’ she murmured. ‘Let us say it is for your mother’s sake. Now, I must go.’ She squeezed Eve’s fingers. ‘To stay longer would be beyond the bounds of the propriety you set such story by. Goodbye to you, Mrs Wylder, and think upon my invitation!’

  Eve could think of nothing else and when her disturbing visitor had left the premises she walked slowly to the kitchen, where she found Aggie shelling peas for their dinner. Richard Granby was piling logs into a large square basket beside the great fire place.

  ‘It is not for you to do that,’ she told him, frowning.

  ‘You have only one man servant in the house besides myself and he has been on duty in the hall, waiting for your visitor to leave.’ He grinned. ‘I thought it best to play least in sight and let Matthew show her out; the lady seemed disposed to question me.’

  ‘Lady Chelston did indeed ask about you. I told her you were my husband’s valet and that you had stayed on to manage my house for me.’ She chuckled. ‘She was very taken with you and told me to send you to her when I have no further need of you.’

  ‘I hope you will do no such thing, madam!’

  ‘No, of course not, but I could not make her out. Aggie, Lady Chelston says she knew my mother. They were neighbours, and they went to school together. Do you remember her?’

  Aggie shook her head, a crease furrowing her brow. ‘I disremember any close school friends of your mama’s, madam, except—yes, there was one: Catherine Reade, merchant’s daughter, about a year younger than Miss Helena she was. Spoiled little thing, nothing would do for her but she should follow Miss Helena to school in Tenterden. Yes, we thought it a good joke at the time, for Mr Reade was no more than your sheltered Wing-ham’s tenant at the time, though ’e did buy the house at Abbotsfield from your sheltered later. But what little Cathy wanted she must have. Made a good marriage, though; caught a lord with property across the border. We never saw her after that.’

  ‘In Sussex? That could be Chelston Hall.’ Eve sat down at the table and cupped her chin in her hands. ‘If Catherine really had been such good friends with Mama, I would have thought you would know of it, Aggie, even if I couldn’t remember her.’

  ‘I am certain sure she never called upon your sainted mama after her marriage, at least not here at Monkhurst. I wonder why she should be calling upon you now?’ mused the house keeper.

  Eve saw the warning look in Granby’s eyes and shrugged. ‘I think she was curious to see Helena Wing-ham’s daughter.’ She hesitated. ‘She invited me to stay with her.’ Aggie dropped the pea pod she was shelling and stared. Eve nodded. ‘She thinks I will be lonely here on my own.’

  ‘Well there is no denying, Miss Eve, that there’s precious little company here for you. You should perhaps consider hiring a com pan ion to live with you.’

  Eve dared not look at Granby. ‘I shall consider it, Aggie, but not yet. I am quite content here on my own for the present time. And there is plenty to do. Mr Granby, if you will meet me in the attics in quarter of an hour, I will go and change and then you can help Martha and me to empty the last few trunks.’

  The busy afternoon passed quickly enough, but Catherine Chelston’s visit still played on Eve’s mind. It was not until dinner time that she found the opportunity to talk it over with Granby. It had become the habit for the valet to wait upon her at dinner, overriding her objections by saying that he had done the same for his master on numerous occasions. She was glad of his company; it was a link with Nick and it was a comfort to be able to talk to him about his master. The September sun was shining in through the dining-room windows, making candles unnecessary as he cleared away the remains of her meal and placed a small bowl of sweet meats upon the table before her.

  ‘Aggie has surpassed herself,’ said Eve, reaching for her wine glass. ‘The lamb was delicious. Have you tried it, Mr Granby?’

  ‘No, madam. I shall take my meal later. Mrs Brattee will leave a plate on the hob for me before she goes back to the Gate House.’

  ‘Tell me what you make of Lady Chelston’s visit.’

  ‘I am not sure. I think she was sent here by her husband, but for what purpose I do not know.’

  ‘We must tell Captain Wylder of this,’ she decided.

  ‘That is what I was thinking, madam.’

  ‘Can you get a note to him, Mr Granby? He said you would know how to contact him.’

  ‘Yes madam, I—’

  ‘Good.’ She rose. ‘I shall write to him directly.’

  ‘That will not be necessary, Mrs Wylder.’

  ‘No, you are right, it would be best if we did not commit anything to paper.’

  ‘That is not what I meant, madam.’ Something in the valet’s tone made her look at him intently. A glimmer of a smile was just discernible on his usually im passive face. ‘You will be able to tell him so yourself, Mrs Wylder. The master is coming here tonight.’

  Since their last meeting at the Mermaid Inn, Eve had spent many hours wondering just how she was going to deal with Nick Wylder. He was her husband, it was impossible for her to cut him out of her life, no matter how badly he had treated her. He had vowed to win her trust and she wanted to give him that chance, but that did not mean she was going to fall into his arms as soon as he smiled at her. No, she would be polite, she would help him catch his smugglers, but he should not have her love until he had earned it!

  As the clock in the hall chimed eleven, Eve picked up her candle and left the drawing room to make her way through the dark, silent passages to the kitchen. Granby was sitting at the big table in the centre of the room, playing patience by the golden light from a single oil lamp. He glanced up as she entered.

  ‘It is all right, madam, we are alone. Aggie has returned to the Gate House.’

  ‘And I have told Matthew he may go on to bed,’ she replied. ‘He is not here yet?’

  ‘No,’ said Granby, rising. ‘Have patience, madam, the captain will come. Pray, return to the drawing room; I will bring you word as soon as he arrives.’

  Eve shook her head slightly and set her candlestick down upon the table.

  ‘I will wait for him here. I cannot settle to anything. There is a chill in this house tonight, at least here the fire has been burning all day—’

  She broke off as the valet threw up his head, listening. Soon Eve could hear it, too, the soft thud of a footfall followed by a quiet knocking on wood. Granby crossed the room and dragged aside the log basket. Seconds later the floor boards beside the fire place began to rise.

  ‘Welcome, sir!’ Granby pulled back the trapdoor and Nick Wylder’s head and shoulders rose from the black aperture. He grinned at Eve.

  ‘Permission to come aboard, madam!’

  She was so surprised by his unorthodox entry that her plans to remain cool and aloof were for got ten. ‘You have used the river side passage,’ she ex claimed. ‘But it is locked!’

  Nick stepped up into the room. ‘I
know.’ He patted his pocket. ‘Dick left the key within reach for me.’

  ‘You had no difficulty navigating the channel?’ asked Granby.

  ‘No, the waterway is clear from Jury’s Cut as far as the boat house.’

  Nick drew up a stool and sat down, wincing slightly.

  Eve said quickly, ‘Your wound is still paining you.’

  ‘It has not healed yet.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I do not rest enough.’

  ‘When was the bandage last changed?’ His shrug told Eve all she needed to know. She went to the door. ‘Stay there while I fetch some clean linen. I will re-dress it for you.’

  ‘But I came here to talk to you!’

  ‘You can do that while I bind you up.’

  Chapter Eleven

  When Eve returned to the kitchen, Granby had built up the fire and lighted more candles so that the room glowed with a rich golden light. A pitcher of ale stood on the table and three tankards had been filled to the brim.

  ‘Richard has poured one for you,’ said Nick, waving to the mugs. ‘It is small-beer, but he will fetch you a glass of wine if you prefer.’

  ‘No, I will drink ale with you.’ She began to tear the old sheet she had brought with her into strips. ‘You must take off your jacket and shirt, if you please.’

  She did not look up as Granby helped Nick to take off his coat, but as he stripped off his shirt she found her eyes straying to Nick’s broad shoulders. She watched the way the muscles rippled under the skin as he pulled the shirt over his head, the sinuous contours accentuated by the candle light.

  Swallowing hard, she forced herself to concentrate and shifted her gaze to the tight bandaging around his ribs. There was a dark stain low on his left side.

  ‘Good God, sir,’ exclaimed Granby, frowning. ‘Has it been changed at all since I last saw you?’

  Nick perched himself on the table and held up his arms as Eve began to remove the bandage.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Rebecca did it for me about a week ago. She is landlady at the Ship, ma’am, in case you were wondering.’

  ‘Is that where you are staying, at an inn?’

  ‘Yes, outside Hastings. The risk of being recognised is too great to stay in the town, but I am well hidden at the Ship. It was Rebecca who looked after me when I was first brought ashore.’

  Something of Eve’s thoughts must have shown in her face for Nick laughed. ‘You need not be jealous, sweet heart; she is married, and old enough to be my mother.’

  ‘I am not at all jealous,’ she retorted.

  He reached out for her. ‘No?’ he murmured, pulling her closer.

  She put her hands against his chest and pushed hard. ‘Of course not!’ she said crossly. She went over to the pump in the corner and worked the handle vigorously. The water slopped into the bowl. She drew more than she needed, but she wanted the heated flush in her cheeks to die down before she went back to Nick. She heard Granby’s angry mutter.

  ‘I should have stayed with you, Captain.’

  ‘It would have made no difference. Besides, Dick, I needed you here to look after my wife.’

  Eve refused to allow herself any comfort in Nick’s words; he was merely looking after his interests, scoundrel that he was! However, when she turned her attention to the wound in his side, all other thoughts were driven out by the sight of the red, angry gash.

  ‘You told me it was a little flesh wound.’ Her hands trembled slightly as she washed away the dried blood and gently cleaned around the injury. ‘This is very deep. You are fortunate it did not touch any vital organs.’

  ‘I’ve had worse than this,’ he reassured her cheerfully.

  ‘But I have always been there to look after you!’ put in the valet quickly.

  ‘Oh.’ Eve paused. ‘Then perhaps, Mr Granby, you would like to carry on here—’

  ‘No he would not!’ ex claimed Nick. ‘Richard’s ministrations have always been of the rough-and-ready sort. I much prefer your gentle touch.’

  Eve scowled, revolted by her pleasure at his words. She picked up a small ointment jar.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Nick suspiciously.

  ‘Comfrey paste, to help the skin to heal.’

  ‘It is healing well enough alone,’ he muttered, looking sceptically at her.

  She held the jar in front of her. ‘I made it myself,’ she coaxed.

  At length he sighed and raised his arm. ‘Very well, apply your witch’s potion!’

  She dipped her fingers into the jar and began to smooth the ointment over the wound. Standing so close to Nick was playing havoc with her insides, making it difficult to concentrate. She was aware of his chest rising and falling just inches from her face, the faded scars on his skin reminding her of the adventurous life he had led.

  She did not realise she had stopped applying the comfrey paste and was staring at a neat round scar on his shoulder until she heard him say, ‘I told you it was not the first hole I’ve had in me.’

  ‘I think you court danger,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘No, but it seems to find me.’

  She looked up to see that devil-may-care smile curving his lips. He held her eyes, inviting her to share in his excitement and, oh, she wanted to! She wanted to throw her lot in with him and declare the world well lost, but it frightened her.

  Eve dragged her eyes back to the red, ugly wound in his side. Just looking at it made her shudder for what might have happened. She was about to suggest that Mr Granby should apply the final bandage when she heard the valet cough and excuse himself. When the door closed behind him, the silence that settled over the kitchen was heavy with tension.

  She took up a strip of clean linen and turned to face Nick. Obligingly he raised his arms for her but he was still sitting on the table, and Eve had to move forwards, to step in between his legs and put her arms about him to pass the bandage around his back. Her face came very close to his chest, so close she only needed to lean a little more and her cheek would press against him. His skin smelled of the outdoors, of salt and sea air, overlaid with hints of spice and soap. She breathed deeply; he was so strong, so reassuringly solid. Safe. Nick jumped.

  ‘Oh—did I hurt you?’ She looked up quickly.

  ‘No, sweet heart. I had for got ten how good it was to have you near to me.’

  The dark glow in his eyes sent her heart skidding round in her chest. She knew an over whelming desire to stretch up and kiss the dimple that appeared at the side of his mouth when he smiled down at her. With an effort she wrenched her eyes away, reminding herself what a trouble some individual he was.

  ‘I am only doing this because I do not want your death laid at my door!’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  She bit back a smile at his meek tone and continued to pass the bandage around him. When she had finished, her hands lingered on his skin, reluctant to move away. Nick reached up and covered her fingers, trapping them. He slid off the table and stood before her, his body tense and aroused. A thrill of anticipation trembled through her, quickly followed by a terrible, aching pain as she remembered his betrayal. She had mourned him, grieved for him and he was not dead.

  ‘You need your shirt.’

  ‘Eve.’

  With a tiny shake of her head she pulled her hand away from him and stepped back, blinking rapidly. ‘I have no time for dalliance, sir.’

  ‘Dalliance! I merely desire a moment’s tenderness from my wife.’

  Eve stared down at her hands, clasped tightly before her. The room was silent save for the merry crackle of the fire that seemed to mock her un hap pi ness. She said in a low tone, ‘I do not trust you. Not yet. It is still too painful for me—’

  ‘Then I will wait,’ he replied quietly. ‘Until you are ready.’

  The constriction in Eve’s throat threatened to choke her as the tears welled up. There was a heavy tread from the passage, a rattling of the door handle and Granby entered the kitchen. Nick quickly turned, putting himself between Eve and
the door. Retreating to the shadows, she pulled out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

  ‘I have brought in more ale,’ said Granby. ‘I thought you might care for another cup?’

  ‘Thank you, yes, but I cannot stay too long, the tide will be turning soon.’

  He guided Eve to a chair, then sat down beside her. Granby refilled his tankard.

  ‘So, Captain, what news have you?’

  ‘Very little, I am afraid. I have been to Boulogne and can find no sign that they are making this false tea there. It brings me back to my original suspicions that the stuff is made here, in this country, but where? My searches around Chelston Hall have drawn a blank. I cannot find out that Chelston is carrying out any large-scale production of the smouch on his estates.’

  ‘Surely it would be very dangerous for him to do so,’ murmured Eve.

  ‘It would, of course, but the production needs to be some where secluded, and he has acres of woodland. Unfortunately, after the fiasco at the Rocks of Nore there has been very little activity; the Revenue men’s sources have no new leads for us to follow. It is like the Marsh, the villages are isolated and people do not talk readily to strangers.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Granby.

  ‘We continue to watch and wait. Chelston cannot hold off in de finitely, he will need to move the goods soon.’

  Despite Nick’s cheerful words Eve felt the chill of despondency curling around them.