Page 23 of Secrets of a Duke's Heart
Harriet ducked her chin as if whatever her uncle had said left her chastened. Puzzled, Clarissa took her arm and led her away.
“I don’t want to marry Lucarran,” she said despondently.
“Might I inquire why? Forgive my inquisitiveness. I have heard so much about you these past few days, I feel as though I already know you. I understand entirely that you don’t feel the same way about me.”
“I don’t love him. The things Rémy told me about the earl while I was his…captive…made me realize I cannot go through with the ceremony. I simply can’t.”
Her hands twisted continually as if stillness were not to be borne. Her despondency was belied by a flicker of anxious intensity. Clarissa’s heart went out to her. Harriet was like a trapped bird fluttering inside a locked cage.
“Might the smuggler have had a reason to tell you half-truths or outright lies?” she asked gently. “You are a pretty girl. He wouldn’t be the first scoundrel to try his hand at seducing a young lady by any means necessary.”
He had, after all, kidnapped Harriet. Scrupulous honesty wasn’t exactly this French smuggler’s foremost trait.
“No,” Harriet insisted, shaking her head. “He told me the truth when no one else would. I hardly knew Lucarran, but I had the impression of him that he was self-centered and harsh-tempered, with little regard for women. If not for Uncle Monty’s recommendation, I would never have said yes.”
“I find it difficult to believe that no other man offered for you.”
“Thetonis competitive. They don’t call it the marriage mart for nothing. Men choose women based upon money, family connections, looks, and personality. In that order.”
Clarissa chuckled. “Well put. Sadly, I agree. I know the pain of being on the shelf intimately.”
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
“But Uncle Monty?—”
“He is charming in his way,” she interrupted firmly. “We have worked closely together these past several days. I have had a chance to get to know him a bit. In spite of his gruffness and propensity for keeping secrets, I enjoy your uncle’s company. I also know when I am being humored, not courted.”
A sick feeling sank like a stone in her stomach. Last night, he’d been willing to show her passion, but just as she had feared, in the bracing glare of daylight, he was embarrassed by her. She had been a fool to hope otherwise.
“Miss Penfirth, with all due respect, I believe you are being obtuse. On the ride back here, all my uncle could talk about was how quickly he and that odious Leacham character could get Rémy into the hangman’s noose, and you. How intelligent and wise you are. What good character and cheerful spirit you displayed under trying circumstances. If we are exchanging confidences despite being near-strangers, I believe my uncle is more serious about you than he ever has been about a woman in his life.”
Clarissa couldn’t believe her burning ears. “We can discuss your uncle’s matrimonial plans once yours are sorted,” she said, leading her guest into an empty room that had been waiting for Harriet’s arrival for days. “In the meantime, let’s get you cleaned up.”
* * *
While Harriet bathed,Clarissa tried to make herself useful by visiting the captured smuggler in Nathaniel’s wine cellar. She found her way blocked by one of the Riders, who gave her a lewd once-over that left her feeling like a film of dirt clung to her skin.
“The sooner those cretins are out of our hair, the better,” she muttered, giving up on her attempt to visit the prisoner. For now.
“Which cretins?”
“Nathaniel! You scared me.” Clarissa’s heart pounded. “These Waterguardsmen. I don’t like them.”
“I doubt anyone likes paying taxes, never mind the obscene rates set by the King to restore his coffers.”
“If the money went to improving the lives of ordinary English citizens, I suspect the people wouldn’t be so quick to thumb their noses at the law. Including…you, cousin?”
He froze, then shook his head. “I should have known better than to think I could outwit you.”
“How long have you been smuggling?”
“I don’t, honestly. I’m more of a fence. Mrs. Gosling coordinates the goods smuggled into Cavalier Cove through the sea caves and stairs cut into the cliffs. Mr. Davies sells some stock in his Emporium. The rest I take to London every fortnight or three weeks and deliver them to yet another middleman, who forges the excise stamps and passes them off to a warehouse. Shopkeepers buy them in bulk, none the wiser.”
“How long has this been going on?”
He scratched the back of his head absently. “Ever since I came to Cornwall. I was desperate, Clarissa. I had no money, no prospects. Everything was falling apart. A household of servants I had only just met were depending on me to find a way to turn things around. Your family was looking to me for help. The ordinary solution of marrying an heiress was hardly practical. I was as new to the marriage mart as you were, and none of the wealthy highborn families would so much as glance at me, title or no.”
