Page 1 of The Duke's Impetuous Darling
Prologue
April 1815
Brighton, England
“Promise me," Alastair insisted and faced the young woman he had loved since he was twelve. "I must hear you say it."
The wind off the Channel tore at Belinda's hat, whipping tendrils of her black hair around her pristine heart-shaped face. He brushed the strands from her large sky blue eyes and tucked her curls beneath the broad brim of her pink straw bonnet.
"I will carry it with me." Her grandfather's old French pistol was her best defense against the smuggler and his aristocratic accomplice whom she'd accidentally discovered on this beach hauling ashore his contraband.
"Everywhere,” he demanded.
She flattened her hands against the red coat of his Royal Dragoon uniform.
"Say it, Bee."
"Everywhere. Yes. I promise."
"And no more solitary rides at dawn."
She pouted. "You are mean."
"Practical! Your aunt's groom obliges you too much." He lifted her chin and peered at her with harsh intent. "You mustn't come here at any time of day, either."
"Another promise? Oh, Alastair. I must find him."
"No. You mustn’t."
"His Majesty's Customs offer a reward of three hundred pounds for his capture. Think of that! That's enough money to—”
"To do what, Bee? Put you and your sisters in a rented house for a year? Your aunt and her step-son, Griff Harlinger, are happy to support you."
"They may be. But I'm not." She frowned at the waves crashing on the stony shore. Her father's death and loss of his estate and good name shamed her. Alastair had comforted her soon after the man’s death. She’d mourned not only for the loss of her sire and her home, but also for the insult by two of her friends who had snubbed her in public. "Ask no more of me, Alastair. I've just promised to carry my pistol and you know I'm a good shot!"
He gripped her shoulders. "Good, if a bit too eager to save the day."
"Oh, please don't remind me how I hurt that poor tenant. I am plagued by guilt."
"My dear, you saw him from afar and thought he was a poacher. Didn’t you tell me he understands and forgives you?"
"Oh, he's just being kind, Alastair."
"Kind or diplomatic. The incident is done. He’s alive—”
“With less of his ear!”
“Nonetheless, you won't go riding at dawn and you won't come here and you will carry your weapon. We don't want you brought up to the Old Bailey accused of murder."
She gave a sad laugh. "They wouldn't."
In the secluded nook of the fisherman's stall, he did what he'd never been so bold to do in all the years he'd known Miss Belinda Craymore. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer to him. From this vantage point, her maid Mary above on the cliff could not see them.
Bee came into his arms easily, willingly and he smiled at her. "You've done enough to identify this thief. It's his high-stepping friend we must be wary of. Men like him protect smugglers, my dear. They make the deals with merchants and take their cut. You've not just threatened the profits of a gang of smugglers, you've set the Shoreham Revenue officers on the nob who set him in business. You don't know who he is or who his friends are."
"I wish I'd seen more of him, but all I spied in the dawn was his bull nose and his belly in his fine pink satin waistcoat."
"That was enough. Too much, in fact." Alastair pointed toward the beach. "We don't see him here today. But he will clear the way for his gang to return. They'll try to run this coast again. We just don't know when. Take comfort you did your duty as a citizen. You identified him."
