Pride in Regency Society. Sarah Mallory
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access to Monkhurst. Marrying you was one way to get that.’
Misery clutched at her heart. ‘You are despicable!’
He sighed. ‘Perhaps I am, but I never meant to hurt you. I admit I went to Tunbridge Wells in search of your grandfather, knowing he owned Monkhurst. I soon learned that the property was part of your marriage settlement and that Sir Benjamin was looking for a husband for you.’ The irrepressible smile tugged at his mouth. ‘It all fitted neatly with my plan—and my family have been nagging me for years to settle down so I knew I would be pleasing them, too. So I accepted Sir Benjamin’s invitation to visit you at Makerham. What I had not anticipated was finding such an adorable young lady waiting to meet me.’
Evelina stifled the traitorous surge of pleasure she felt at his words. She dare not consider them or her brittle self-control might shatter. She injected a touch of impatience into her voice. ‘And just what were your plans? Why did you need Monkhurst?’
‘I suspected Monkhurst was being used by smugglers.’
‘Very likely.’ She shrugged. ‘Nearly every house in the area would be the same.’
‘Yes, I know that, but—I think I should go back to the beginning.’ He paused and Eve waited, pulling his handkerchief through her restless fingers. ‘My—ah—adventurous career in the navy brought me to the attention of the Admiralty, and since returning to England I have been working for them, investigating certain…activities.’
‘Smuggling. You have said that.’
‘Yes, but not the innocuous practice carried out by Silas and his friends, a few barrels of French brandy and bundles of Brussels lace. The villains I seek are involved in a much bigger enterprise. Not only are they depriving the government of duty—and before you interrupt me let me say that I have heard all the arguments that the duty is too high! The people I seek are flooding the country with a tea that is, at best, illegal and at worst, poisonous.
‘They call it smouch. It is made from leaves gathered from the English hedgerows and mixed with chamber-lye, green vitriol and other choice ingredients, including, very often, sheep’s dung. Then it is baked and rubbed to a black dust. Quite,’ he said, observing her look of horror. ‘I traced the most recent consignments to this coast. It is being shipped to Boulogne, then sold to our—er—freetraders.’
‘But they wouldn’t,’ she exclaimed. ‘Silas would never carry such a cargo.’
‘Not knowingly, but he has been duped into bringing it ashore. Did you not think it odd that Mrs Brattee had no tea in her store cupboard when you arrived at Monkhurst? Now Silas knows the truth he will not trust any tea coming from the Continent.’
Eve’s eyes darkened. ‘It is some horrid French plot to poison us!’
Nick shook his head. ‘I wish I could say that was it; the evidence points to it being made in this country, and in this area.’
‘And you suspected Monkhurst? My house?’
‘One of the cargoes we intercepted contained a fragment of a letter. Monkhurst was mentioned in it. Silas swore there was no connection, but I wanted to see for myself.’
‘So you married me to gain access to my house.’
‘Yes.’
She threw him another savage look. ‘You do not apologise for it.’
He smiled. ‘I am not sorry I married you, Evelina. I never could be.’
Her skin tingled when saw the glint in his blue eyes. It was difficult to remain angry when he smiled at her like that. She reminded herself that his smiles meant nothing. They were as worthless as his honeyed words. She looked away, scowling. ‘Go on.’
‘Once Silas was persuaded to let me into the house we searched it thoroughly. There are extensive cellars, and a very interesting underground passage leading to the boathouse on Monkhurst Drain, but no sign that it has been used in recent years.’
‘Well there is nothing secret about that! Mama showed me the tunnel when I was a child. She told me her grandfather had built it so that the family need not get wet walking to the boathouse on rainy days, but if that was the case why does it come up into the kitchen? And why is the entrance hidden behind the panelling at the back of the boathouse? From the outside the tunnel is well hidden; it appears that the boathouse is built into the bank.’ Eve shook her head. ‘I always believed it was built for smuggling goods into the house, but Mama would never admit it.’ She forgot her anger as a half-forgotten memory surfaced. ‘I remember having nightmares about people stealing into the house through the tunnel, so Papa took me down there. He showed me the iron grating at the far end. It had a big lock and the key was kept on a hook in the tunnel, so that anyone from the house could get out, but no one could get in.’
‘That is still the case, Eve, so you may still rest easy. But the boathouse is in a sad state of repair.’
‘When Mama and Papa died the boats were sold. Grandpapa kept the house in order, but we only visited Monkhurst once or twice after that.’
Nick had stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. His fingers were playing with one of the curls at her neck. It was a great temptation to turn her head and rest her cheek against his hand, but she resisted it.
‘And what about you, Eve?’ he said softly. ‘Do you dislike the house?’
‘Oh, no, it holds only good memories for me. We lived there until I was about nine, you see, then I went to stay with Grandpapa while my parents went abroad and…they never came back. They died in Italy.’
His fingers left the curl and squeezed her shoulder. ‘I know, you told me they caught a fever. I am sorry.’
‘So, too, am I, but it was a long time ago.’
‘I am sorry, too, about your grandfather, and even sorrier that I could not be with you.’
She drew herself up, not prepared to accept his sympathy. She hunched her shoulder to shake off his hand, yet was disappointed when he removed it. She said gruffly, ‘We are straying from the point, sir. Why did you leave Makerham so suddenly?’
‘My enquiries had led me to suspect that Lord Chelston was involved in this business. He owns a sizeable property near Northiam and keeps a yacht at Hastings. I have had people watching him for some time now, but he is very elusive. On the morning after our wedding I received word that a rendezvous had been arranged. After so many months of work I could not leave my men to deal with it alone, so I had to come here to the coast.’
‘But you have not arrested Lord Chelston?
‘He is a powerful man. We need hard evidence before we make our suspicions known. Besides, I want to catch all the main players and close down the whole operation. If we move too soon they will merely go underground, move production to a new location.
‘These people are clever; they have a warehouse in Boulogne. The French are not averse to helping anyone who is working against England. You said yourself, smuggling is a way of life in these parts; the local gangs are trusted by their regular customers who believe they are purchasing good Black Bohea.’ He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘There were reports that a consignment of smouch was ready to be shipped out of Hastings on a brigantine and transferred to a French lugger cruising off this coast. We thought it would be possible to catch Chelston’s men red-handed with the goods; with their evidence we could convict him. Captain George has a cutter at his disposal, the Argos, but on the night of the rendezvous some of us were in disguise on a small fishing smack, hoping to get close enough to the brigantine to board and overpower the crew, but they discovered the plot.’
‘What happened?’ asked Eve, enthralled in spite of herself.
‘In the fighting I was shot and toppled into the water.’
‘Shot!’
‘A flesh wound, just below the ribs. Nothing serious,