The Devil Earl (32 page)

James’s revelation was greeted by gasps of surprise. “Mr. Penhurst?” the no-longer-bold one asked. James’s swift nod brought several loud wails and murmurs, including one fervent prayer, from the group.

“Now, what do you think we should do with these fine fellows, Sebastian?” James asked.

“It is up to you, naturally.”

“Hmm…” James drawled, walking the perimeter while his men piped up with several lurid and imaginative suggestions. “No,” James finally said, shaking his head. “I ought
to do just what they did to me—tie them up and turn them over to our former captain. Let them live through the hell that we did. Perhaps then they would think twice about playing at smuggling.” James’s crew shouted in approval, while the doomed men groaned.

“Yes, that would be a good plan, but for the fact that our dear captain—” James ignored the ensuing jeers from his men “—is no longer in business. And,” he said, hushing his crew with a sharp glance, “I guess I must be grateful that these fine fellows did not kill me, as this one here so vehemently wished,” he added, stepping toward the no-longerbold one and pressing his pistol to the man’s head.

James sighed heavily, letting his weapon slide down the man’s sweating face and then pulling it away abruptly, unfired. “Therefore, I suppose we must simply turn these boys and their goods over to the magistrate.”

At his words, several of the locals sighed with relief. “Truss them all up,” James ordered. “We shall toss them in a cart and transport them ourselves.”

“What about their ship, Captain?” one of the crew asked.

James grinned. “I suspect the
Will-o’-the-wisp
has her boarded by now, and we shall have another ship to add to our fleet.”

Sebastian smiled, for James’s fleet consisted solely of the one ship, and now perhaps two, yet he was genuinely proud of his brother. Not many of the ton’s young dandies could have weathered James’s experiences and managed to triumph. To Sebastian’s way of thinking, his brother had evidenced a depth of character that had been sorely lacking in the Ravenscar family for a long time. It boded well, he thought, for the rejuvenation of the line.

Watching as the smugglers were tied and dragged over the rocks to land, Sebastian remained where he was, stationed at the entrance to the passageway. He did not want anyone to know about the route into the abbey, especially, he
thought with a grimace, when he suspected that Prudence was peeking out around the corner.

Of course, he had warned her to do no such thing, but Sebastian doubted her ability to heed his admonition. Knowing Pru, she would probably claim not to have heard him, for he had already discovered her tendency to listen only when so inclined.

Once everyone else was gone, he took one of the lanterns and made his way back through the tunnel, nearly running into his betrothed, just as he had imagined. Sebastian sighed. “I assume you have plenty of fodder for your books,” he remarked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” she admitted, smiling up at him happily. He did not even bother to scold her, but took her elbow and led her into the wine cellars. It was, he realized, quite late, and he wanted nothing more than to take her to his bed.

At the hidden door, which he had propped open, she stopped suddenly, and Sebastian stepped back, having grown accustomed to her abrupt flashes of inspiration, and the behavior that signaled them. “I do hope James and his men are faring well,” she said.

“Why would they not?” Sebastian asked, impatient. The faint light was gleaming off her long, unbound hair and bathing her generous mouth in a tempting curve that easily aroused him.

“I am not sure that I trust the magistrate,” Prudence replied thoughtfully.

Sebastian scowled. The events of the night had taken their toll on him, as he was neither as young nor as reckless as he had once been. Right now, he yearned for Prudence’s lifegiving heat, not clever conversation. “Why the devil not?” he asked sharply as he urged her forward.

“Often the local authorities are well aware of the free-trading and are bribed to silence,” she explained. “And
when James told them their fate, they did not seem to be frightened in the least.”

“Yes, well, considering the other options he had offered them, they are probably looking forward to the gaol.”

“I am not so sure, Sebastian. I have grown up here along the coast, where such activities are established and the locals look out for their own.”

“Yes, well, I understand. However, that imaginative mind of yours may be working too well.”

She glanced up at him and, as if gauging his mood, apparently decided not to argue. “Perhaps you are right, Sebastian. I am sure that James will be able to manage.”

Sebastian smiled in relief, for they were almost to the kitchens. From there he would take the secret way through the library to reach his rooms more quickly, and then they could engage in far more pleasant activities than discussing the smugglers.

“Here, now! Who is it?” growled a voice. They had reached the top of the stairs, and to Sebastian’s astonishment, there was Mr. Worth, a coat thrown over his nightshirt and an ancient blunderbuss in his shaking hands.

“I can assure you that shooting me will not bode well for your future employment,” Sebastian warned the man dryly.

“My lord!” he shouted, lowering the gun. Unfortunately, he let the barrel fall to the floor, and it discharged, leaving a gaping black hole in the floor and bringing Mrs. Worth and Phoebe running into the room.

“My lord!” shouted the older woman. Dressed in voluminous white nightclothes and a great mobcap, and wielding a heavy pot, she looked like the ghost of the Devil Earl’s wife, and was only slightly less terrifying.

Phoebe shoved the housekeeper aside without compunction, however, and headed straight for Sebastian. Although he knew an urge to turn tail for the cavern, he held his ground against the coming onslaught. “Where is
James?” Phoebe gasped, grabbing hold of his lapels and bursting into tears.

So much for his seduction plans! As Sebastian patted Phoebe’s sobbing form, he thought fondly back to a time when his sister-in-law would have run from him in horror.

Being honorable and responsible definitely had its drawbacks.

Prudence leaned back in her chair and adjusted her spectacles. The events of the past few days had stimulated her imagination so that she could no longer contain herself. Although it was long past midnight, she had been scribbling furiously for some time in the empty library.

Sebastian was upstairs sleeping, which was just as well. After his brave confrontation with the smugglers the night before, he deserved some uninterrupted slumber, Prudence decided. Of course, judging from his performance in bed, he was hardly on his last legs, she thought, blushing rosily at the memory.

They had not managed to find a chance to make love after returning from the cave, what with the Worths up in arms and Phoebe playing the watering pot all over Sebastian’s waistcoat. No one had gotten a bit of rest until James returned to drag his wife off to their room. By that time, Prudence had been nodding into the tea Mrs. Worth had prepared, and Sebastian had ended up tucking her in solicitously before seeking his own dreams.

He had made up for it today. Chewing absently on her pen, Prudence took a moment to recall the several fiery interludes in which they had engaged. At one point, she had been working diligently at this desk when he walked in, locked the door and laid her back across the surface, scattering her papers and her wits in a most agreeable fashion.

Prudence had worried a bit over the presence of Phoebe and James in the house during these episodes, but the younger couple would probably be leaving soon. Phoebe
made her dislike of Wolfinger obvious, and James was talking about outfitting his ship. Although Prudence adored them both, she would not regret their departure. Then she and Sebastian would have the entire abbey to themselves, Prudence thought with a shiver.

Except for the new staff Mrs. Worth was hiring.

Of course, Prudence was content as they were, but she knew the arrangement was unfair to the Worths, and Sebastian had promised that there would not be footmen lurking around every corner. Such crowding would hardly bode well for their spontaneity, and yet somehow she knew that they would manage. She and Sebastian could make each day an adventure, for as long as…

Prudence started and spit out her pen. What was that? Sitting up straighter, she listened intently. The rain that had begun just a few minutes ago pattered gently against the window, but something else had interrupted her musings. Footsteps, at this hour? It would not be Sebastian, for he would take the secret passageway behind the bookshelves.

Could it be Phoebe? Prudence fervently hoped not, because her sister would try to coax her into returning to bed. But then, Phoebe would hardly be wandering around Wolfinger in the dead of night; she claimed that the abbey was eerie during the day.

A great shadow moved across the doorway, sending Prudence’s heart pounding. Her first thought was of the Devil Earl and his wife, but whatever was outside the library did not sound like a ghost. It moved stealthily, though not silently, and obviously carried a light, for she could see a faint flicker through the open doors.

Prudence stood up just as the phantom entered the room, and she felt a small stab of disappointment to discover that it was only a man with a partially shuttered lantern. “Good God, what a ghastly place,” the fellow muttered. Prudence, recognizing the voice immediately, was even more dismayed.

“Mr. Darlington!” she exclaimed.

Her words made the intruder start visibly, and the lamp swung around quickly, casting gigantic shadows about the room.
“Who’s there?”
he cried out, looking about him with wide eyes. Prudence remained where she stood, gazing at him curiously, while he finally focused on her.

He probably thought her an apparition, dressed as she was in her nightclothes with her hair falling unbound down her back, and Prudence would have let out a ghoulish moan, but she suspected that her spectacles would surely give her identity away, once he recovered sufficiently to study her closely.

They did, for he suddenly murmured her name in a disbelieving tone. “Miss Lancaster? What the devil are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you,” she replied. “Phoebe and I are guests here. What is your explanation? Have you been reduced to petty thievery?”

“I am no thief!” he argued, stepping closer. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting company any moment, and Prudence rested her hand on the brass wolf’s head that lay on the desk, ready to fling it at him, if need be. “You had better be quiet. There are others here, and they might not look kindly upon you seeing them.”

“You are a smuggler, just as Sebastian expected.”

“Hush!” he said, looking behind him once more. His face, in the wavering light, held a mixture of emotion, and Prudence thought she saw both anxiety and annoyance before he gained control of himself. His eyes narrowed.

“Your Devil Earl should not have meddled in things that did not concern him,” he snapped. “He shall find himself without a few of his precious possessions come morning. A warning from the chief. Now, unless you want to find yourself sliced to ribbons, I suggest you shut your mouth.”

Darlington swaggered forward, his confidence increasing. Whatever—or whomever—he feared apparently was
not going to appear. Prudence did not know whether to be relieved or worried by that discovery, for Darlington began to look her over in an unseemly fashion that made her pull her robe close. “I always thought you were the ugly one, but in the dark, what difference does it make?” he asked, with a low laugh.

Prudence hefted the brass ornament. “I am not my sister, Mr. Darlington, and you will find yourself sadly mistaken if you underestimate me.” She stood fast, displaying no hint of her tumultuous emotions, for she suspected Mr. Darlington to be little more than a weak bully with no heart for a fight. There was both a knife and a pair of scissors in the desk, and should the need arise, Prudence would not hesitate to use them.

Her adversary looked startled by her air of firm resolve. “Bah! Who would want you, anyway, you skinny old maid?” he snarled. Obviously, he had not sunk so low as outright rape or murder…yet. Spitting foul words, he backed toward the library entrance. “This is a big place. If I keep you stuck here, no one will be the wiser. And then I might just pay a visit to your lovely sister,” he added with a sly smile.

“You do that,” Prudence muttered.
And you just might find yourself slit from chin to gullet by the pirate in her bed.

Laughing softly, Darlington left the room, closing the door behind him, and Prudence heard the soft click of the key in the lock. True to his word, he had effectively trapped her inside. Obviously, he thought the abbey too vast for the banging of her small fists to be heard, and he was probably right.

“S
ebastian?” Prudence was touching him, and Sebastian smiled at her drowsily.

“Sebastian.”

“Hmm?” He reached for her, drawing her down to his chest, enjoying the fall of her hair against his skin. His studious authoress had turned into a demanding vixen, and he was always ready to oblige her, for his encounters with Pru bore no resemblance to those of his sordid past. They did not leave him feeling cold inside; they made him clean and whole.

“I am sorry to wake you, but there are intruders in the abbey.”

“What?”
Roused from his slumberous state, Sebastian sat up, rubbed a palm across his face and opened his eyes. Far from being bent on seduction, Prudence was covered in one of her demure robes, and the single candle she held lit a somber countenance.

“Apparently, the leader of our local free-traders is ill pleased with your interference. He and a few of his cohorts came tonight to salvage their goods before the excise men arrive. They have deduced the existence of the passageway and are below, even now, pilfering what is left of Wolfinger’s treasures, I suspect.”