marriage can be the answer—if you are not determined to be so stubborn.’
‘What will your family say with a plain nobody like me for a bride, trailing behind you on your expensive doorstep, somewhere I expect, in Mayfair?’
‘I have no idea, nor do I care,’ he replied, struck by the sad little image. ‘It seems to me, Miss Lydyard, that you sell yourself short. You are hardly a nobody. Your family is perfectly respectable.’
But Miss Lydyard did not retreat. ‘Respectable! How damning a word is that? Compared with the Hallaston family, the Earls of Venmore, we are parvenus indeed. It takes no intelligence to guess the on dit of the Season. A common smuggler as the Countess of Venmore! As bad as Lady Lade. I can’t wed you, my lord.’
At which he smiled, for the first time with some level of genuine humour. It lit his face, softening his mouth, rendering her instantly breathless. ‘Not as bad as Letty Lade. She, as I recall, before she was elevated to society, was a servant in a brothel and mistress of Sixteen-String Jack, who ended on the gallows. I doubt you, Miss Lydyard, have any such claim to fame.’
His face was alight with laughter, atrociously handsome despite the disfiguring bruises and the vicious path of the knife on his cheek. Harriette was forced to look away, forced to take a steadying breath as her dreams shattered before her eyes. He was not for her. To know that he had offered for her under duress, driven into an honourable gesture by her despicable brother, was entirely shaming for her. Without Wallace’s spiked accusations, the Earl of Venmore would never have noticed her, much less invited her to share his life and his bed. She took another breath against the sharp dejection and wished with all her heart it could be otherwise, but she could not, would not, let him be a sacrifice for her brother’s greed. It would humiliate her—and him. Marriage on such terms, when all he had shown her was kindness, would be beyond tolerance for both of them.
‘Why did you do it?’ His soft question surprised her.
‘What?’
‘Take on the appearance and identity of Captain Harry?’
‘A family obligation.’ She walked away to look out towards the cliffs where seabirds wheeled and dived in a joyous freedom, finding it easier not to face him.
‘It’s a hard burden for a family to ask of a young girl.’ To her dismay he followed her to stand at her shoulder, a solid physical presence so that she was immediately aware of the heat of his skin against hers, the sheer dominance of his tall figure. But she would not allow herself to feel vulnerable.
‘It’s not just an obligation.’ She felt an inexplicable need to defend herself to him. ‘It’s the excitement, too. Lydyard’s Ghost is my own. So is Lydyard’s Pride, this house that I love but can’t afford to keep and where my brother refuses to let me live.’ Unaware, animation coloured her words and her face. ‘The smuggling runs have become part of my life. Without them, what do I have before me? I am unwed and unlikely to be so, whatever my brother might say. So I must die of boredom—a neverending round of embroidery, painting, sedate walks under my sister-in-law’s caustic eye. When Zan first took me on a run…’ She flushed, regretting having laid herself open to his interest. ‘It’s in my blood, I suppose.’
‘Zan?’ he asked.
‘Alexander Ellerdine. My cousin. My friend. He showed me the…the satisfaction of it. And since Wallace would not, I took on the family connection. The sea is in my blood, too. Lydyards have always had an interest in the Free Traders.’
The idea that had crept into Luke’s mind blossomed into a fully fledged possibility. To rescue Miss Lydyard from dishonour—a matter of duty in itself—and at the same time…the cutter, Lydyard’s Ghost! He turned to lean, careful of his shoulder, against the window shutter so that he might look directly at her, obliging her to raise her eyes to his.
‘Since you don’t appear to value my offer of marriage overmuch…’his mouth curled in a touch of self-contempt ‘…allow me to suggest a contract that might appeal to you Miss Lydyard. A business deal, if you will.’
‘A business deal?’ That she had not expected.
His eyes narrowed as if he contemplated some distant plotting. ‘I find I might have the need for a fast cutter to give me easy access to the French coast. You own such a cutter.’
‘Well—yes. But if you need one, would it not be simpler to just buy one?’ Harriette’s brows rose in blatant disbelief. ‘Why saddle yourself with a wife?’
He thought fast of the advantages that he might just make use of. ‘I need a trustworthy crew and an experienced captain with knowledge of tides. A captain with knowledge of the French coast and a connection there. And speed would be important—might be crucial in my planning. You could offer me all of that.’
Harriette folded her arms. ‘I could. Why?’
‘A matter of family business. It need not concern you.’ And Harriette watched as a grimness settled about the Earl’s mouth. It was like a shutter closing, she thought, masking any emotion.
‘So you get use of the Ghost.’ She pursed her lips. ‘What do I get?’
‘Simple enough.’ He lifted a hand, palm spread. ‘My title and consequence. My purse strings. I can give you comfort, luxury if that is what you would enjoy, social standing, independence. There will be no compulsion on you to paint or embroider from me! You will no longer be under the eye of either your sister-in-law or your brother. Is that not at least tempting? I own a number of houses that you might like. You might find that you enjoy a London Season.’
‘Ha! With nothing to think of but what I wear and what I say, and if I can manage the steps of a country dance at Almack’s without tripping over my feet? You should know that I have never been taught to dance, either!’ She let the ideal filter through her mind. ‘You think that money would matter to me?’
‘As a smuggler, I imagine profit is an important consideration for you.’
‘You would think that,’ she replied enigmatically. If that is what he thought of her…But how should he not since he did not know her? ‘Why would I choose to escape from my brother into your controlling, my lord?’
‘You would not find me too rigorous a husband. Will you do it?’
Harriette studied the unsmiling, masterful features and was not sure, not sure at all. The Earl of Venmore did not seem to have the makings of an easy, tolerant husband. There was suddenly no similarity between this man and the helpless figure who had been tumbled broken and bleeding at her feet. This man who insisted on her striking this remarkable bargain with him.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.
‘Why not? Consider what a profitable catch I turned out to be.’
There was no mistaking the edge of a sneer in his voice. What a low opinion he appeared to have of her. Well, she would reply in similar vein. ‘So there’s something in this for both of us. Youw ould be as self-interested as I in finding an advantage in this match.’
‘Yes. Why not?’
Harriette dragged in a breath. Here was honesty between them at least. And it was tempting; she felt herself weakening. The Earl of Venmore was clearly a devious man, knowing that independence would be a priceless gift to her. What would it be like to share his life, to share his bed? She shivered at the thought of the Earl’s physical ownership of her. It was an image that would destroy her resolution, she admitted in her heart, if she allowed it.
‘You said you could not afford the upkeep of this house.’ His words brought her back to the present. ‘It obviously means much to you. If you wish to spend money to put this place back in order…’
Harriette stared at him.
‘…then I could enable you to do it.’
Was he actually offering to pay to resurrect Lydyard’s Pride