half past eight.’
Pippa, taking a seat alongside her aunt, glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. It wanted a minute to the half-hour. She sat silently counting the seconds.
‘Supper is served, Sir Felix.’ Even though she had been expecting it, the voice made Pippa jump, the footman had entered so silently.
Their host held out his hand to her and Pippa took it to rise and thus she went into the dining room on the arm of Sir Felix, leaving Ash to escort Mrs Whiteside.
The meal was superbly cooked and presented and the wines very fine, but Pippa hardly noticed what she was eating and drinking. She was acutely conscious of Sir Felix at the head of the table on her left and Sir Ashley on her right and the need to be circumspect. The atmosphere was fraught with tension. There was too much unspoken, too much that must not be spoken for normal conversation, though Sir Ashley did his best. He entertained them with stories of London gossip and what was going on at court and in Parliament, anything except what was most on their minds.
‘We had some excitement while you were away today,’ Sir Felix said in a pause in the conversation. ‘The smugglers stormed the Customs House and rescued the contraband. Knocked the two guards clean out of their senses.’
‘Oh, dear, I am sorry to hear that,’ Pippa said. ‘Did they recognise their assailants?’
‘No, they do not seem able to remember anything about it, nor who was responsible. I do not suppose we shall ever trace the smuggled goods now.’ It was said almost triumphantly.
‘You think it has all been spirited away?’ Ash asked him. ‘They must surely wait until dark to do that.’
‘My dear fellow, of course they must, but no one in his senses would attempt to stop them. They will have a hundred batmen escorting them, all armed with batons and muskets, ready to do battle with anyone attempting to interfere. It would take an army and we do not have an army. I have spoken to Captain Lovechild and he will not risk his dragoons on so unequal a fight. It is his opinion that it would be best to alert the people at the receiving end.’
‘Do you know who they might be?’ asked Pippa.
‘No, but perhaps Sir Ashley does. He seems to be an authority on the trade.’
‘I beg your pardon, Sir Felix,’ Ash put in. ‘I claim no such thing. I am as ignorant on the subject as you are', which was a statement that could mean something or nothing. ‘I am here to learn.’
To learn from poor Ben, Pippa thought, but said nothing. She would go with Sir Ashley and her aunt tomorrow and make sure her cousin did not implicate the local men, particularly Nat. Where was he? The longer he was away the more worried she became and her ambivalent feelings towards Sir Ashley were not helping. On the one hand she wished him and his probing away and on the other she knew he would be a staunch support in a crisis. Was there a crisis? She did not even know that.
When the lengthy meal ended the ladies repaired to the drawing room for tea, leaving the men to their port and cognac. ‘I wonder if Sir Felix’s brandy is duty-paid?’ Pippa murmured, accepting a dish of tea from her aunt. ‘I do not think he is at all enthusiastic about tackling the smuggling.’
‘He is simply thinking of the danger to the dragoons if there is a pitched battle,’ Augusta said. ‘And perhaps he is trying to protect Nathaniel.’
‘Protect his own supply, you mean.’
‘Philippa!’ her aunt protested. ‘You must not say such things. He would be deeply offended. After all, he would be doing it for your sake.’
‘Mine?’
‘Do not be obtuse, my girl. It cannot have escaped your notice that he pays you very particular attention.’
‘And I wish he would not. Short of telling him I find him repulsive, which would be cruel, I do not know how to put him off.’
‘Why do you want to? Six and twenty you are, and unlikely to get another offer. If what you tell me is correct, Sir Ashley has already made it plain he is not interested. Who else will take you? Especially since you refuse to go to London in the Season.’
‘I did that once and look what happened. No, Aunt, I am resigned to remaining single.’
Her aunt heaved a sigh. ‘I have never met anyone as stubborn as you are.’
‘It goes with my red hair,’ Pippa said, trying to make a joke of it. ‘Stubborn, fiery-tempered, not to be trusted …’
‘Who said you were not to be trusted?’
‘Lady Cadogan.’
‘Oh, that.’
‘Yes, that. Now, you will please me if you say no more on the subject.’
‘Very well, though I do think—’
‘No, Aunt,’ Pippa stopped her. ‘It is all behind me and that is how I would like it to stay.’
If Augusta was going to continue, she did not because the gentlemen joined them and she was kept busy dispensing tea to them at Sir Felix’s request, and asking Ash about the latest London fashions on which he seemed more knowledgeable than Pippa would have expected for a bachelor. But then, she told herself, he had, on his own admission, had several mistresses. Was he a rake? Had his light flirtation with her in the coach been leading to a proposition? Why, oh, why had she told him she had had lovers? It must have given him quite the wrong impression.
Sir Felix settled down on the sofa next to Pippa, and though she edged away, he simply shifted closer. In the end she stood up and went over to a spinet that stood in the corner and began idly picking out notes with one hand.
‘Do you play, Miss Kingslake?’
She turned to find Sir Ashley at her side. ‘A little.’
‘Then please do entertain us.’ He regarded her quizzically with a slight smile. ‘I think “Greensleeves” would be most appropriate? That is, if you know it.’
‘Of course.’ She pulled out the stool and sat down to play. He stood beside the instrument and began to sing, ‘Alas, my love, you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously …’ He had a mellifluous voice and sang effortlessly. She joined in and did not notice Sir Felix’s scowl. Ash did and was amused by it. The man was as jealous as hell. He hoped, oh, he hoped that Miss Kingslake would not be so foolish as to accept the man’s suit; he was far too old and set in his ways for someone as lively as Miss Kingslake. He smiled to himself as the song came to an end. He was being foolish; after all, what business was it of his whom the lady married?
The last dying notes and the flourishing bow Ash gave the pianist signalled the end of the evening and the ladies prepared to leave. Sir Felix gave orders for their carriage to be brought round to the front of the house.
‘Ask my man to saddle a horse for me,’ Ash told the footman who was being sent on this errand. ‘I will ride beside the carriage.’
‘It is very kind of you, Sir Ashley,’ Pippa said. ‘But not at all necessary. It is less than three miles …’
‘I think it is,’ he said. ‘The smugglers might be abroad and I would see you safely home.’
‘I think I should come, too,’ Sir Felix said. ‘One escort would not be enough to protect you against a mob. And I am a magistrate, after all. They will respect me.’
Ash doubted that. He suspected Sir Felix wanted to make sure he did not go out looking for smugglers after he left the ladies, which he had every intention of doing. It was a dark night, ideal for moving the contraband from wherever it was hidden and sending it on its way. He bowed in acquiescence, Sir Felix gave orders for his horse to be saddled, too, and thus the little cavalcade journeyed to Windward House without meeting a soul. All the village houses were in darkness, which could mean the occupants were in bed and keeping out of the way or they were gathering for the move.
When