Page 17 of Secrets of a Duke's Heart
His eyes glinted with excitement. This was the most animated Jude had ever seen the man.
“We’ll send every Waterguard boat off the coast of Cornwall scouring the sea between Polperro and Falmouth. Riders searching the shore. They must be holed up in a sea cave somewhere!”
He patted Jude’s chest with a damp hand and hastened to their tired, waiting horses.
“I am so very sorry to intrude upon your evening,” Jude said to Benoit.
“You know the girl, don’t you?”
“She is my niece.”
Perhaps it was foolish, but he trusted this man. There was relief in speaking the truth. Yet the family’s name depended upon him continuing to carry the weight of decades of lies—all told for a noble cause. Heavy all the same.
“He won’t hurt her. He’s a good man, Rémy. A bit rough around the edges. Impulsive, but he has a good heart.” He tapped his chest with his fist.
“That’s reassuring. If you see her again, please tell her...” He trailed off. His heart ached. He couldn’t think of the right words. Any words. All he had was a well of feelings he didn’t know how to describe. Not that he should attempt to describe his state of mind to a complete stranger. “I just want her home safely. That’s all that matters.”
Benoit’s lips parted as if he might speak, but Leacham called out at that moment. “Onward, Monty, we have a smuggler to catch!”
He nodded and made his way through the mud to his horse.
* * *
Hours later,well past his usual supper time, Jude dragged himself into Prescott’s mansion and shed his wet clothes and boots with the help of a footman. It was uncouth to undress in the foyer but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Every muscle in his body ached. He hadn’t ridden that long or that hard in years.
“Mr. Monty!” exclaimed a female voice as he ascended the stairs to his bedroom.
“Miss Penfirth. Forgive me. I thought you would be in bed by now.” Although he was clad in nothing but his trousers and shirt, barefoot, cold, and hungry, his mind promptly forgot all about his sad state and leaped into a soft, warm bed with Clarissa, naked. Images of her lush breasts filling his hands and her moans echoing as he?—
Good God, get a grip on yourself, man.
“I shall let you tend to your…erm…yourself.”
Her cheeks were crimson as she passed by him. Jude stared at the ceiling and blew out a breath, willing his cock to stop responding to the heated visions of sex wheeling through his brain. Utterly futile.
In his room, he dropped into the hip bath the servants had brought up for him and scrubbed away the day’s rigors with bay rum-scented soap. Imported from Provence, France. A luxury he had denied himself for years in the interest of patriotism. With the Napoleonic Wars finally over for good, he was free to indulge his taste for fine French products without guilt.
Once he was clean and had eaten the tray of supper brought to his room, he made his way downstairs. As tired as he was, he ought to fall into bed, but he wanted to find a map of Cornwall. How far was it between Polperro and Falmouth? He didn’t know. But now that there was a clearly defined area in which to search, he was invigorated to get out there again.
His thighs protested. Jude braced one hand on his back. He would go by carriage, if the roads were clear enough. Not on horseback. He was too old to take that kind of punishment.
“We meet again.”
He stopped short. “Miss Penfirth. What are you doing in the library?”
“Searching for evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“I think my cousin is involved in the trade. You know. Smuggling.” She raised her candle higher. “I have suspected it for some time.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
Clarissa tried not to stare but it was no use. Mr. Montague was devastatingly handsome when fully dressed. In his banyan with damp hair, he was painfully attractive.
He doesn’t want you,she reminded herself, trying to quell the flutters in her stomach.
“How did you arrive at this conclusion?”
