The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(80)

Speechless, Serena merely stared at him, though laughter seemed to be rising up from her stomach. Perhaps she was hysterical.

“About your smuggler, though, you need to involve the magistrate, or the soldiers, or both. You can’t have armed strangers running tame about your home.”

“I know, and I ought to inform against them, only first I need to get rid of whatever they’re hiding in the cellar, or Braithwaite will get the blame.”

He veered across toward the orchard, which was a short cut to the castle from this part of the wood. “Well, let’s go and see, now. I can help your servants shift the contraband elsewhere—or tip it into the sea, which might be better.”

She stopped in her tracks at the orchard door, catching his arm. “No, no, you can’t come to the castle!”

“I can’t?”

“I’m not allowed to receive male visitors, for my only chaperones are my sisters, Mrs. Gaskell the housekeeper, and Miss Grey the governess. In fact,” she confided, “I’m not meant to receive any visitors at all. I’m not even meant to be outdoors.”

Opening the door, he paused, frowning down at her. “Because you danced with Dax?”

She sailed past him. “Because my engagement to Sir Arthur is ended. No one can hold Dax responsible for that. It is my fault.”

“Sounds like Sir Arthur’s fault to me,” the artist said disgustedly, his long, easy strides catching up with her. “I think you had a narrow escape and are much better off being not engaged to him.”

“Well, to be frank, I have felt rather relieved,” she confided, strolling along the path. Then her breath caught. There was something too comforting about the orchard walls, or perhaps it was the artist’s large presence. “Oh drat, I’m doing it again.”

“What?”

“Blabbering,” she said ruefully.

“I shall be discreet enough for both of us,” he assured her. “Our main problem is your smugglers.”

“Well surely they won’t come back now they know I’ve seen them?”

He made a noncommittal noise. “Is there direct access to the rest of the castle from the cellar?”

“No, it’s quite inconvenient, actually. Braithwaite keeps talking about moving the wine cellar elsewhere, but so far, he hasn’t. The only entrance is through the door in the old courtyard.”

“So as long as your staff lock the rest of the doors, you should be safe?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “although it must be said they lock the cellar door, too.”

His frown deepened. “Then, our smugglers have at least one key. Serena, you have to go and stay somewhere else. Get your own people to move the contraband if you won’t allow me, and then report this to—”

“I’m not leaving,” she interrupted. “This is my home. Besides, if they haven’t murdered my servants, why should they go out of their way to murder me?”

“Because the servants don’t chase them through the woods?” he suggested.

“Well,” she said, allowing him the point. “I expect they won’t come back, for they’ll surely expect to be confronted by excisemen, soldiers, and magistrates.”

“I suppose it depends if they were merely leaving brandy for his lordship or up to something else entirely.”

“What else could they possibly be up to?”

“I have no idea, but this behavior does not seem natural for Blackhaven smugglers.”

She mulled that over and had to concede he was right. “Then, if you would be so good as to consult with Smuggler Jack on what is going on, I shall investigate the cellar.”

“Do you have a very large footman employed at the castle?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Take him with you,” the artist advised.

“Perhaps you’d lend him your stick?” she said innocently.

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t mock me, madam, or I might be forced to kiss you again.”

“You can’t kiss me again!” she all but gasped. “I’m the Earl’s sister.”

“You were always the Earl’s sister.”

She dropped her gaze before the dangerous glint in his. “You are most improper, sir.”

“I suspect that’s why you like me.”

“I’m not perfectly sure I do like you,” she retorted.

“Well, take my advice and don’t go around kissing men you don’t like.”

She glared at him in outrage until she saw the laughter in his eyes. “You are impossible,” she said crossly. “Do you take nothing seriously?”

“Actually, yes, but you don’t pay attention when I’m serious.”

His care for her safety was genuine, at least. Touched, she assured him she had a household full of devoted retainers. “And I’m sure Miss Grey could reduce twenty armed men to obedience,” she added. “They’d probably be improving their letters before they escaped.”

He laughed, and she thought there might be a hint of admiration in his smiling eyes. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you, Serena?”

“How can you say that when you’ve just seen me terrified?”

“It was very temporary, and understandable to the point of being necessary to survival.” He took an old-fashioned pocket watch from his coat and glanced it before giving it a shake. “Wretched thing’s stopped again,” he said, shoving it back in his pocket. “You don’t know what the time is, do you? I have a hopeful worthy wanting to sit for his portrait at nine o’clock.”