Page 8 of My Secret Duke
Now, at twenty-seven, Ivo had built up the small Free Trading operation into a business that benefited everyone on his estate. In the past, the smuggled goods had gone to the local community and the local gentry. Now the number of customers he dealt with had blossomed, and he supplied hotels and clubs in his home county of Kent, as well as many more on the road to London and in London itself, including Cadieux’s. Yes, it was risky and erratic—he sometimes did not know from one month to the next how much he would be paid—but he was proud of his accomplishment; it was just a pity he could not preen about it to those who thought him a pretty face with little behind it.
He glanced about him at the familiar square, realizing that while he had been lost in his thoughts he’d reached home again. Bourne was probably waiting for him inside and they would need to act immediately if they were to supply the gamblers at Cadieux’s with their tipples.
When Ivo entered his town house, his butler, Carlyon, informed him that “scruffy fellow” from Portside was awaiting his pleasure, but he’d thought it best to keep him out of the better areas of the house. Ivo asked he be shown into his study.
Bourne duly arrived, twisting his cap in his hands under the watchful eye of Carlyon. Once the butler had closed the door, Bourne’s demeanor changed abruptly from a country bumpkin to someone well aware of his importance in the chain of command.
“Sorry to come uninvited, but I had to see you, sir.”
Ivo waved that off. “Charles Wickley was outside. He said Polgarth has been arrested.”
“Yes, sir.” Bourne was a squat man with broad shoulders and an intelligent glint in his blue eyes. “Locked up tight, they say. He won’t talk, or if he does, it will be to lead the revenue astray. As for the crew… I’m hopeful they will take their captain’s lead.”
“Polgarth should know I will do my utmost to keep him from the hangman’s rope or transportation, and in the meantime, I will see that his family is well cared for.” Even if it meant canceling the order for his new jacket.
Bourne promised to share that with the captain, adding, “We’re all aware of the risks we take.”
Ivo offered him brandy from the decanter on his desk, and Bourne accepted the glass. “Why now?” Ivo asked. “Polgarth has been bringing in our goods for two years without anyone the wiser. Who informed?”
Bourne swallowed the nip in one gulp and wiped a hand across his mouth. “There’s always those willing to take a bribe,” he said wryly. “I’m not saying Polgarth would,nor any of our other men, but these are dangerous times, Your Grace. What with the increase in revenue cutters and riding officers, we need eyes in the back of our heads.”
Ivo poured another brandy into the man’s glass and watched him down it. During the war, taxes on imported goods had risen beyond the reach of ordinary British men and women. If they wanted their morning cup of tea, they had to pay. But there was a way around it, and that was where Ivo came in.
Bourne spoke again. “There’s been more than Polgarth arrested over the past months. Word is it’s not safe to set out from France if you’re carrying anything liable to raise suspicion. Might be tricky to find someone willing to take the risk so soon. Might be best to lay low for a time.”
“And yet we have customers who want their orders filled. I have given my word.” And unlike his father, Ivo took pride in keeping his word, and he also couldn’t afford to lose any of his customers.
Bourne finished off his brandy and seemed to come to a decision. “There is someone. A new player in the game. His prices are steeper than most, but he seems to have the knack of being able to slip through the revenue net like a ghost.”
“Where is he based?” Ivo asked.
“I don’t know exactly, but he can be reached through the King’s Head down Worthing way. He might be a Frenchman, or he might not. His name is Mystere, and his ship isThe Holly.”
Ivo snorted a laugh. “A mystery Frenchman called Mystere. Are you sure he’s genuine?”
“I’ve heard he gets the job done, and the revenue officers are all running about like headless chickens trying to catch him.”
In the circumstances, it seemed worth the risk.Theirs was an unpredictable profession, and although he would take extra care to keep himself and his men safe, it was not always possible.
“Very well. Find this Mystere and sound him out. Let him know we are in the market for his services. I’ll need him to make a run as soon as possible. Keep our names out of it. Is there someone you can use as a middleman?”
“There is, sir.”
“Thank you, Bourne. Send word as soon as you know anything.”
“I will. I wish you a good day,” Bourne said as he left.
A good day? Ivo stood and stared at the closed door. No, it wasn’t a good day. Apart from the trouble with his men being arrested and his customers not receiving what they’d paid for, he had had a disappointment of the heart. That pain was new and disagreeable to Ivo, but it was a good lesson. He would guard his heart more carefully next time.
As for Olivia, he thought it only fair she regret her refusal of his offer. She hadn’t even fully explained to him why she had said no, apart from his risky character. There must be dozens, no, hundreds, of other girls who would beg for the chance to be leg-shackled to the Duke of Northam, while Olivia would struggle to find even one suitor who lived up to her high ideals.
Her rejection had stung him a great deal. At the same time, beneath his genuine feelings of hurt and anger, there was something else. Something uncomfortable. Something he resolutely refused to examine.
Could some of what Olivia said be true?
Chapter Three
Grantham Estate
