Page 37 of Counting on a Countess
“And I’m Dennis Bell,” the other piped in.
“What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room,” Tamsyn said firmly. “If you feel that you might have trouble keeping secrets—even from your families—you must leave immediately.”
Both footmen exchanged glances. Finally, Dennis spoke. “What’s in it for us?”
“Money,” she answered without prevarication. “Enough to substantially supplement what you make now.”
“I don’t know about Dennis,” Liam said quickly, “but I’m game.”
“Me, too,” Dennis threw in.
As briefly as possible, Tamsyn explained the situation to them. While she spoke, their eyes went wide, but neither of them looked outraged.
“Will it prove to be a difficulty?” she asked pointedly.
Both footmen shook their heads. “My family back home has no love for the law,” Liam added.
“And do you care for legalities?” Nessa demanded.
“I like having a steady job and a full belly,” Dennis said, “but it don’t hurt to have a little extra in my coffers.”
Though she was pleased with the arrangements as they fell into place, she pressed, “And which of you two grew up poorest?”
Dennis shrugged, but Liam raised his hand. “Left Ireland as a tyke and lived in a Whitechapel rookery until I was old enough to go into service.”
“What do you know about buyers here in London?” Tamsyn asked. “Buyers of things that aren’t precisely sanctioned by the Crown.” When Liam hesitated, she added encouragingly, “Trust me, Liam. I won’t turn on you.”
“There’s a bloke,” the footman finally said. “A jeweler in Clerkenwell. Mr. Jayne. He’s known for doing some selling on the side. Might be able to help you, too.”
“Thank you,” Tamsyn said, feeling a slide of relief. “You can go now.”
“Thankyou, my lady,” Liam answered fervently.
The footmen bowed before hastily exiting through the door.
“At least that’s settled,” Tamsyn said, and exhaled. “We might have ourselves a buyer. In the meantime, I’d better get back to Lord Blakemere.”
She started for the door.
“You think we can do this without him knowing?” Nessa wondered.
“We’re going to have to,” Tamsyn said over her shoulder. “The alternative is too calamitous to contemplate.” The best she could hope for was transportation. As for the villagers, she would never incriminate them, but they would starve without the smuggling profits.
She hurried out and made her way back up the stairs, hoping Kit wouldn’t be too concerned about her prolonged absence. She found him in a small parlor at the back of the house. He stood in front of the fire, hands braced on the mantel as he nudged the decorative andirons with the toe of his boot as if to test their weight.
He glanced behind him at her entrance, and his smile was warm. It shot straight into her chest, and she felt momentarily giddy. Ah, he was a fine thing to look upon. How bloody lucky for her that her best candidate for husband also happened to be the handsomest.
She had to remember to stay alert and not be distracted by his good looks or charm.
He hadn’t been angry when she’d been beset by nerves last night, nor had he demanded his husbandly rights. Instead, he’d been patient and kind. That kindness presented its own dangers, because at that moment she’d felt that she could trust him with anything. Yet for her own safety, and the security of the people of Newcombe, that couldn’t happen.
“Everything sorted out?” he asked.
“She had a few questions about unpacking my things,” Tamsyn answered. “But I have so few possessions, it shouldn’t take long to tend to them.”
“After today,” he said brightly, striding toward her, “that won’t be a concern. You’ll have a substantial allowance to spend however you like.”
Hopefully it would be enough to put a down payment on Chei Owr. “That’s generous of you,” she murmured.
