The Smuggler and the Society Bride

‘I’m opening a school for the village girls and wanted your sister to attend—after the others have gone, perhaps, so she wouldn’t be subjected to any unpleasantness. Would your mama agree? And do you think Eva would be, ah, receptive to learning?’

Laurie’s face lit. ‘Evie would love it! She’s so much smarter than anybody hereabouts could credit! Ma would be thrilled to have her go—’ she broke off suddenly, the smile fading ‘—but sorry, Father, we just can’t afford it. I barely earn enough here to keep food on the table and the…other—’ the girl lifted her chin, a defiant look on her face ‘—it don’t pay regular.’

‘There won’t be any charge, Laurie.’

The girl stared at them. ‘You’d let her come…for nuthin’?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Why, when Maimie Crawford went to school in St Just, her da complained every time he stopped for a brew about how it cost the trees to keep her there!’

‘Fortunately, since Sennlack has so few of them, it won’t cost the trees here,’ Father Gryffd answered, smiling. ‘With Miss Foxe’s help, I think I can manage without paying a teacher.’

Laurie gestured toward Honoria. ‘What does she know about my sister’s…trouble?’

‘I met Eva at church yesterday,’ Honoria replied.

Laurie gave her a speculative look. ‘And you’re still willing to teach her? Why?’

‘She seemed very bright to me,’ Honoria replied. ‘Deserving of the same chance to learn as the other girls.’ She smiled. ‘And she gave me flowers.’

Laurie subjected her to a hard scrutiny. Honoria returned her stare without flinching.

Finally, Eva’s sister nodded. ‘Don’t see how you could—a rich, manor-born lady like you—but maybe you do understand. Thank you, then. You, too, Father.’

The vicar nodded. ‘We’re all here to help each other, Laurie. There’s a place in God’s heart for everyone.’

The girl swallowed hard. ‘God and I ain’t exactly been on speaking terms of late, Father, but if you’re willing to do this for Evie, I might have to rethink that.’

The vicar smiled. ‘I hope you will. And you’ll speak to your mother about Eva coming to school?’

‘Aye, I will. Best be getting back to work now, though.’

With another nod, the girl disappeared up the stairs. Turning to Honoria, the vicar said, ‘I ought to stop and check on Mr Kessel’s ailing mother. Will you be all right waiting here, Miss Foxe, until I return?’

‘You needn’t feel you must escort me back to the vicarage,’ Honoria assured him. ‘Sennlack is small enough that I’ll have no difficulty finding my way back to retrieve my horse after I complete Aunt Foxe’s errands.’

After proposing that they discuss the school again after services the next Sunday, Father Gryffd thanked her for her help and walked out. Watching him go, Honoria reflected with amusement that, though the vicar had thanked her, it was really he who was doing her the kindness.

Satisfaction filled her at the thought that, while she was marooned here unscrambling her future, she might use such modest talents as she possessed to help other girls—especially Eva. Something about the little girl touched her heart, even beyond the fact that they had both been cast out of the societies into which they’d been born by circumstances over which neither had had any control.

She was surprised how cheering the idea of being useful was. She didn’t think herself a particularly selfish person, but for all her life up to this point, she’d filled a role—daughter, sister, gentlewoman in the country, member of Society in London. She’d always been busy with a variety of activities—but never, that she could recall, with any tasks she would describe as being truly useful to anyone.

Since her ability to choose which role she would play in future had recently been drastically restricted, perhaps she ought to seek out other ways to be useful. Once her true identity was discovered, which was bound to happen eventually, Father Gryffd might have second thoughts about employing her to assist in a school for innocent girls.

She’d like to have accomplished something towards improving Eva’s situation before that happened.

Sipping the last of her cider, she was wondering over her unexpected connection to an illiterate Cornish child when a deep, melodic voice tickled her ear, stirring every nerve as the sound resonated through her body.

‘Why, Miss Foxe! How delightful to see you again.’

Chapter Six

After spending the morning supervising the crew repairing rigging on the Flying Gull, Gabe walked into the inn to find the very woman whose voice and image had been teasing his thoughts.

She’d been playing an active part in some very lusty dreams, too, he thought with a sigh, but he’d do better to suppress those memories, particularly if he wanted to beguile her into speaking with him. Since he had nothing better to do the rest of the afternoon than read the week-old London papers, attempting to charm this luscious and resistant lady would be a welcome diversion.

Obviously not aware that he resided in one of the inn’s bedchambers, as he addressed her, she gasped in surprise. He had to give her credit, though, for she quickly recovered her countenance and assumed the faintly haughty air she’d employed in the churchyard.

He barely suppressed a grin. Her reaction was like the dropping of a handkerchief at the start of a race: he couldn’t wait to charge forward.

‘Mr Hawksworth,’ she replied with a regal nod. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be off somewhere robbing someone?’

‘Nay, lass, ’tis full daylight. I endeavour to constrain my nefarious activities until after dark,’ he replied.

She stiffened when he called her ‘lass,’ and he could almost see her rapidly reviewing phrases to find one biting enough to put him in his place. She looked so intent—and so indignant, he was hard put not to laugh.

He hadn’t encountered a chick with feathers this easy to ruffle since leaving his brother’s home.

Before she could unfurl her blighting phrase of choice, he continued, ‘Mrs Kessel brews a superior cider. Won’t you share one with me before you leave? It would be entirely proper, I assure you.’ He gestured around the room. ‘We have the whole inn to act as chaperones.’

‘There is such comfort in numbers,’ she replied, irony in her tone as she nodded toward the currently deserted tap room.

To his disappointment, their tête-à-tête ended practically before it began as Sadie rushed in. ‘Mr Hawksworth, sir, what can I do for you? Some ale? The missus be cooking a fine roast. If you’ve a mind for a bite, I’ll see if I can persuade her to fix you a plate now.’

Gabe suspected the persistent tavern maid had been lolling about the corridor, watching for him as she’d developed an irritating tendency to do—and was not at all interested in assisting the inn’s other customer. ‘Just a mug of your finest, Sadie. And a bit more cider for the lady.’

The distinctly unfriendly look Sadie cast at Miss Foxe confirmed Gabe’s suspicion. ‘Think she was about leaving, weren’t you, miss?’

‘Nay, no one could resist a wee bit more of Mrs Kessel’s excellent brew. Why, ’twould be near an unforgiveable insult to that good lady’s skill, and I’m certain you wouldn’t wish to insult the innkeeper’s wife, would you, Miss Foxe?’

The girl’s expression said she was about to do just that when the lady herself walked in. ‘Welcome, Mr Gabe, and you, too, miss! How go things with the Gull?’

‘Tolerable, ma’am. She’ll be ready to hoist sail by nightfall, should it be needful.’

Mrs Kessel nodded. ‘Dickin said his ship’d be ready any day now and he just awaiting word. What can I get you?’

‘Some ale, please. Mrs Kessel, have you met Miss Marie Foxe, Miss Foxe’s niece?’

‘Why, no! Excuse me, miss, I had no idea—’ Breaking off hastily, the innkeeper’s wife dipped her a curtsy, clearly distressed at having perhaps given offence to the relation of such an important area resident. ‘A pleasure to welcome you! Your aunt’s always been good enough to honour us with her custom.’

‘I’ve just been telling her she needs another mug of your cider, which is the best on the coast. Did you not find it so, Miss Foxe?’ Gabe looked at her, grinning.

‘It is excellent, ma’am,’ she allowed, darting him a dagger glance.

‘Why, thank ye kindly, miss. Sadie,’ Mrs Kessel called to the girl lounging near the bar, a sullen look on her face. ‘Another cider for Miss Foxe, and be quick about it!’

There was no way now she could politely refuse, a fact of which she was well aware. Gabe watched her almost grind her teeth in frustration before her expression cleared and she gave the innkeeper’s wife a smile, so unexpected that its warmth and brilliance dazzled him.

‘Thank you, ma’am. I should enjoy one very much.’

Still bedazzled, he scarcely heard her reply, his brain unable to progress beyond thinking that he’d never seen her truly smile before and that, when she smiled like that, half the gentlemen on the Cornish coast would fight each other for the honour of throwing themselves at her feet.