A Dangerous Game (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 2) Read online

Emmeline accepted her husband’s hand as she rose. “Thank you for your assistance, Constable Philmont,” she said kindly.

  “It is my pleasure, milady,” the constable replied, rising.

  Oliver placed his hand on her elbow and gently led her out of the mercantile. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, removed a few coins, and extended them towards the young boy who was watching over their horses.

  The boy’s eyes grew wide as he accepted the money. “Thank you, milord,” he said before he handed them the reins.

  After Oliver assisted Emmeline onto her sidesaddle and mounted his horse, they made their way down the street. They had just left the village when Oliver turned to her and asked, “Would you care to race back to Lockhart Manor?”

  Without any hesitation, she kicked her horse into a run and leaned lower in her saddle.

  Emmeline had just stepped into her bedchamber when she spun back around and announced, “I am going with you.”

  Oliver shook his head. “I think not.”

  “May I ask why?”

  He closed the door, then said, “I don’t want you in harm’s way.”

  She gave him a disbelieving look. “By walking along the beach during the day?”

  “What if a smuggler saw you enter the crevice?” he asked. “Your life could be in danger.”

  Placing a hand on her hip, she questioned, “And what about you?”

  “It is a risk that I am willing to take.”

  “You seem rather reckless with your own safety,” she commented.

  Oliver reached to the back of his trousers and retrieved an overcoat pistol. “I have two pistols on my person and a dagger in my left boot.”

  Emmeline stared back at him in amazement. “May I ask why?”

  “One never knows when there will be a need to defend oneself.”

  Walking over to her reticule on the dressing table, she reached inside and pulled out a muff pistol. “If I take my pistol, may I go with you?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  “What if—”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps I could—”

  “No.”

  Emmeline frowned. “You are being entirely unreasonable.”

  Oliver tucked the pistol into the waistband of his trousers and covered it up with his waistcoat. As he approached his wife, he said, “I do credit your desire to help, but smugglers are merciless. They will kill you without hesitation or provocation.”

  “But don’t smugglers come at night?”

  “Generally, but they might have someone acting as a lookout on shore keeping an eye on the barrels,” he said, coming to a stop in front of her.

  Emmeline gave him a timid smile as she looked up at him. “I don’t like to sit idly by.”

  “I am well aware of that fact, but you must trust me on this.”

  Her eyes searched his as she murmured, “I want to trust you, wholly, but something is holding me back.”

  “Which is?”

  “When you speak to me, I hear the sincerity in your voice, but your actions speak otherwise,” she said.

  “What does your heart tell you?”

  She lowered her gaze to the lapels of his blue riding jacket. “It tells me to trust you, but I am scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Making a fool of myself,” she replied, bringing her gaze back up.

  “Oh, Emme,” he started, placing a hand on the sleeve of her green riding habit, “you are many things, but a fool is not one of them. You are brave, strong, and kind-hearted.”

  “If I am so brave, why won’t you let me go with you and the constable?”

  He groaned as he dropped his hand. “I failed to mention that you are incredibly headstrong, as well. It is a most irksome trait of yours,” he teased.

  Emmeline smiled. “You married me, despite knowing I possessed this quality.”

  “That I did,” he said, returning her smile, “and I do not regret my decision.”

  His wife studied him as if gauging his sincerity. “Truly?”

  Before he could reply, a knock came at the door.

  “Enter,” he ordered, his eyes not straying from Emmeline.

  The door opened and Emmeline’s lady’s maid stepped into the room. She dropped into a curtsy as she announced, “Constable Philmont is here to call upon Lord Oliver.”

  “Already?” Emmeline questioned.

  “We did race along the lawns for a considerable time,” Oliver pointed out.

  “I suppose you make a good point.”

  Oliver leaned closer and whispered next to her ear, “Thank you for being reasonable about staying behind.”

  When she didn’t respond, he couldn’t resist kissing her cheek.

  He stepped back and said, “I will seek you out once I return to the manor.”

  “Thank you, Oliver.”

  As he made his way to the drawing room, Oliver realized that it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell his wife that he would be gone for an indefinite time to the peninsula. He could see the trust in her eyes, but it was still mingled with uncertainty. But how was it fair that he expected her trust, when he was unable to share a part of himself?

  He stepped into the drawing room and saw Constable Philmont had a pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers, making him appear much more intimidating than he had in the mercantile.

  The constable gave him a curt nod. “Milord,” he said.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course.”

  “Shall we proceed to the beach?” Oliver asked.

  After they exited the estate, Oliver turned towards the constable. “Mr. Lawson informed us that you have been a constable since last year.”

  “That is true,” Constable Philmont replied. “No one wanted to fill the vacancy, and the villagers all banded together to convince me to take the position.”

  “You don’t enjoy being a constable?”

  “I don’t dislike it,” he remarked with a grimace.

  Oliver grinned. “That is a glowing endorsement of your position.”

  The constable chuckled. “I enjoy ensuring our village is safe, but sometimes I grow tired of minding the same people. It astonishes me how much people will reveal when they are inebriated.”

  “That has been my experience, as well.”

  “I prefer to mind my own business, but I am unable to do so as the constable. Sometimes I feel like I spend my days tattling on people.”

  “You do?”

  “I know it is not tattling, but it does get tiring at times.”

  “Is there no one else willing to serve as constable?”

  Constable Philmont shook his head. “There is not,” he replied. “Fortunately, having a night watchman patrolling the streets keeps most of my evenings free.”

  “That is convenient.”

  “It is,” the constable replied, “especially since I am also running a business.”

  Glancing over at him, Oliver asked, “What brought you to Whitstable?”

  “I saw a newspaper advertisement announcing the sale of the mercantile, and I decided to purchase it.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Not yet,” the constable responded, “but I am courting a young lady in the village.”

  “I wish you luck, then.”

  “Thank you, milord.”

  As they arrived at the footpath leading down to the beach, Oliver instructed, “We will need to go one at a time.”

  It wasn’t long until they arrived at the sand, and the constable’s eyes scanned the beach. “You have yourself a nice little cove here.”

  “It is rather nice.” Oliver started making his way down the beach as he shared, “We saw six smugglers come ashore by rowboat.”

  “Six?”

  “Yes, and they hoisted eighteen barrels over their shoulders as if they were nothing more than bags of feathers.”

  “Delightful,” the con
stable muttered.

  They continued walking down the beach until Oliver saw the crevice in the cliff’s wall. “It is not much further,” he shared.

  He walked straight into the crevice and his heart dropped. It was empty.

  The constable stopped at the entrance of the cave. “Where are the barrels?”

  “They are gone,” Oliver replied in disbelief.

  “All of them?”

  Oliver turned to face the constable. “This entire crevice was filled with barrels last night, I swear it.”

  “I believe you, milord,” the constable said, but Oliver could hear the doubt in his voice.

  “My wife also witnessed the smugglers coming ashore,” Oliver pressed.

  Constable Philmont placed his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Without any evidence, I’m afraid I have no choice but to stop investigating this case.”

  “The smugglers must have been tipped off.”

  “Who else did you tell about them?”

  “No one.”

  The constable gave him a look of pity. “If the smugglers did return for the smuggled goods, then they are long gone.”

  Oliver walked out of the crevice and saw booted prints in the sand. He followed the prints to a footpath that led up the cliff. He turned back towards the constable. “The smugglers must have taken this path up to the top of the cliff, where a cart was undoubtedly waiting for them.”

  “That is for the best,” the constable said. “With any luck, the smugglers will stop using our shores.”

  “Will you place patrols on the beach?”

  “If that would appease you, milord.”

  Oliver frowned, knowing the constable was just trying to pacify him. “I think it would be for the best,” he replied. “At least until you confirm the smugglers have stopped using your shores.”

  “As you wish.” The constable glanced up in the direction of the manor. “Would you care to return to Lockhart Manor now?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Constable Philmont gave him a side glance. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about what you saw down here last night,” he said. “After all, we don’t want to cause any undue panic amongst the villagers.”

  “I agree.”

  “Good,” the constable replied. “This must have been quite the excitement for someone of your station.”

  “Meaning?”

  With a complacent smile, Constable Philmont remarked, “It is not every day that a lord is able to witness smugglers coming ashore.”

  Oliver harrumphed. “It would have been more exciting if we had caught them.”

  As they continued to walk down the beach, they grew quiet, retreating to their own thoughts. Oliver knew that he had looked like a fool today, but he refused to sit idly by and play the part.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “The barrels were gone?” Emmeline asked as she sat on the chair in her bedchamber.

  Oliver nodded. “Yes, all of them.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Leaning his shoulder against the side of the wall, he replied, “Someone must have tipped off the smugglers.”

  “But who could that possibly have been?” she asked. “The only person we told about the smugglers was the constable.”

  Oliver pressed his lips together, then said, “I am under the impression that the constable betrayed us.”

  “Truly?”

  “He delayed our departure to the beach by an hour, giving him plenty of time to cart those barrels away,” he explained. “Furthermore, he could sell the smuggled goods in his mercantile.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.”

  “I believe it is time for me to go speak to him again.”

  Rising, Emmeline asked, “For what purpose?”

  “I am going to ask if he is involved with smuggling.”

  “And you believe he will just come out and admit to that?”

  A dangerous gleam came into Oliver’s eyes as he replied, “If I ask nicely, he will.”

  “Perhaps we should just report our suspicions to the magistrate and allow him to handle the investigation.”

  Oliver shook his head. “The traveling judge only comes through the village every few months,” he shared. “Besides, I have no doubt I can handle the constable.”

  “He is rather intimidating.”

  “To some, but I am not easily intimidated.”

  Emmeline frowned. “I am not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

  “No,” he replied, smiling, “but it is nice of you to fuss over me.”

  “You are incredibly stubborn,” she said. “It is quite vexing.”

  Straightening from the wall, Oliver remarked, “You need not worry about me.”

  “How can I not?” she asked. “You are my husband.”

  “I can assure you that I have been in much more harrowing situations than this one,” he said.

  She eyed him curiously. “How is that even possible?”

  Oliver opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, and she found herself curious about what he had intended to say. Finally, he spoke. “It matters not.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “For a brief moment, you thought about letting me in, but you changed your mind,” she remarked. “Why is that?”

  “Because I am trying to keep you safe.”

  “From what?”

  Oliver’s gaze grew remorseful as he replied, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

  “Even after everything we have been through, you still don’t trust me?” Emmeline asked as she tried to keep the hurt out of her voice.

  “It isn’t about that.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  “As I’ve said, on multiple occasions, I am trying to keep you safe.”

  Tossing up her hands, she asked, “From what?”

  “From everything!” he exclaimed as he took a commanding step towards her. “I don’t want you to become tainted by the evils of the world.”

  She tilted her chin stubbornly. “Then you have underestimated me.”

  Oliver huffed. “I don’t understand why you aren’t satisfied with me and what I have given you.”

  “I want the real you,” she implored, walking closer to him. “You have kept part of yourself hidden from me.”

  “It is not a part of me that I share with very many people.”

  “Can I not be one of them?” she asked hopefully as she placed a hand over his heart.

  Oliver glanced down at her hand before saying, “You are asking too much of me.”

  “Am I?” she breathed.

  Reaching up, Oliver took her hand and lowered it to his side. “What if you don’t like what you see?”

  “That is impossible.”

  “Why is that?” he asked, his eyes imploring hers.

  “Because it is you,” she replied simply.

  Oliver slowly released her hand and said, “I shall have to think on it.”

  “I understand.”

  He took a step back. “I will go speak to the constable, and I shall return before supper.”

  “I still believe this to be a foolhardy idea.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “But it still won’t change your mind?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “Then go, but you’d better not get yourself killed.”

  “Now it is you who is vastly underestimating me.”

  Emmeline watched her husband depart from the room and hoped, not for the first time, that Oliver would start to confide in her. What is holding him back, she wondered. She returned to her seat and picked up the book she had been reading.

  A short time later, a knock came at the door.

  “Enter,” she ordered.

  Mary stepped into the room with a concerned look on her face.

  “Whatever is wrong?” Emmeline asked.

  “Lord Taylor is in the drawing room, and he has requested to
speak to you,” Mary said.

  Emmeline stared back in disbelief. “My uncle is here?”

  “He is.”

  “Will you inform him that I will be down shortly?” she asked.

  “As you wish.” Mary turned to leave but stopped. “Would you like me to accompany you?”

  “I don’t believe that to be necessary.”

  Mary tipped her head. “I wish you luck, milady.”

  “I knew that this day would come,” she admitted, rising. “I just wish that it hadn’t arrived so quickly.”

  Once her lady’s maid had left to do her bidding, Emmeline walked over to the dressing table and smoothed out her pale blue gown.

  How she wished that Oliver was with her. She felt as if she could do anything with him by her side.

  Emmeline exited her bedchamber and walked down the hall with dread in each step. She knew this was going to be a most unpleasant conversation.

  As she passed through the entry hall, she stopped outside of the drawing room and peered in. She saw her uncle standing next to the fireplace with a drink in his hand. He didn’t appear agitated, so that bode well for her.

  She walked into the room and greeted him politely. “Good afternoon, Uncle.”

  His eyes perused the length of her. “You are looking well, Emmeline.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her uncle’s eyes left hers and scanned the drawing room. “I see that you found Lockhart Manor.”

  “I did.”

  “May I ask how you learned about the manor?”

  “I spoke to my father’s solicitor.”

  “Ah,” her uncle said, bringing the glass up to his lips. “That is how you learned about your dowry, as well.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “It was.”

  “I must assume that you have questions for me.”

  “I do.”

  Her uncle gave her an expectant look. “Which are?”

  She paused. “Why did you try to deceive me?”

  Placing the empty glass onto the mantel, he pointed towards the settee and said, “It might be best if you have a seat for this.”

  “I would prefer to stand.”

  He nodded his understanding. “This property was never supposed to be left to you,” he shared. “Your father and I fought over Lockhart Manor from the moment our father passed away.”

  “Why would my father leave it to me then?”

  “Most likely out of spite.”