The Honourable Earl. Mary Nichols

breed, he realised, as he picked his way through a tangle of undergrowth which had spread out over the path. A man could hide there for weeks without being found. The path itself was well-worn and some of the bushes alongside it had been broken recently, as if something wide and heavy had travelled along it. Curious, he moved forward cautiously.

      He came to a small clearing in the middle of which was a tumble-down hovel which had once been inhabited by a woodsman. He smiled, remembering how he and Freddie used to play round it as boys, pretending it was a fort and one was attacker and one defender. Its windows were broken and the ivy which clambered round it was invading the inside. Deserted it looked, almost ready to fall in on itself and return to nature.

      But that was how it was meant to look, he realised, as he noticed the thatch on the roof had been repaired and so had the stout door, which was securely locked. Someone was either living here on his land or using it for some secret purpose. He looked up at the chimney. There was no smoke. Did that mean there was no one there now? He went to the door and knocked. There was no reply. He walked all round it. The path at the rear led down to the marshes where there was an old boat house, as he very well knew; and here there were signs of a cart and hoofmarks in the mud.

      He returned to the house and peered into the windows, cupping his hands about his face. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he noticed a pile of sacks and a barrel on the floor and a table with a pair of scales. There was a bottle beside them and the remains of an oilskin wrapping. Smugglers! This was a hideout for smugglers.

      He was inclined to be amused, since nearly everyone tolerated free-traders, as they preferred to be called; half the tobacco, tea, wine and spirits consumed in the country was contraband. His father may even have condoned it in exchange for the odd barrel. But only two days ago, he had learned from Robert Dent that there was going to be a concerted effort by the revenue men to stamp out smuggling and extra patrols were to be sent out. ‘There wasn’t so much of it during the war,’ Robert had said. ‘But now it has grown again and we do not want to return to the days of the vicious gangs who plied the trade openly and thought nothing of murdering anyone who got in their way.’

      He would keep watch and find out who these men were. Depending who they turned out to be, he would hand them over to the justices or warn them off.

      Leaving everything exactly as he found it, he returned home to find Mrs Fostyn waiting for him. The servants, accustomed to admitting her, had had no reason to change their habits and she had been conducted to the drawing room to await his return.

      ‘Madam, your obedient,’ he said, sweeping her a low bow. ‘You find me somewhat dishevelled. I was not expecting company.’

      ‘It is no matter, my lord. I had to come.’

      ‘Oh.’ He had always liked Freddie’s mother and could not bring himself to be rude to her. What had happened had certainly not been her fault and she must have suffered greatly at the loss of her husband. ‘Pray, go on.’

      ‘It is the matter of the letter I received from your lawyer. I assume it was written at your dictation.’

      ‘It was.’

      ‘I know you have every right to ask us to leave and I do not dispute that, but a month is so little time to find somewhere else to live. Could you not find it in your heart to extend that? Your father, the late Earl, said we could stay as long as we wished.’

      ‘My father is no more.’

      ‘Yes. I should have offered my condolences. Forgive me.’

      She was almost grovelling and it pained him to see it. ‘You see,’ she went on when his only reply was a slight inclination of the head, ‘I have two daughters as well as a young son of twelve still at home and I must find some way of supporting them.’

      ‘You support them? Why not Freddie? Surely it is up to him?’

      ‘Freddie?’ She looked astonished. ‘Freddie left home at the same time as you did and we have not seen or heard from him since. Did you not know?’

      It was his turn to be surprised. ‘No, I did not. I assumed—’

      ‘Your father thought it would be for the best. He came to see me. He told me that, as a magistrate, he was duty bound to arrest anyone breaking the law, but he couldn’t bring himself to have you arrested and was determined to send you away. He said the Countess was bowed down with grief and it would not do for her to see my son about the village after you had gone. He was determined Freddie must be sent away too. Besides, Freddie himself was so distraught, blaming himself for what happened, that he was eager to be gone.’

      ‘I am sorry,’ he said softly. So his father had threatened them with the law. ‘I knew none of this.’

      ‘But the late Earl was a kind and generous man and he knew I had no means of support except my husband’s investments, which were by no means large enough to allow us to find a new home and keep us in comfort. He offered me the dower house and, for the sake of my children, I agreed. Except that we did not know whether Freddie was alive or dead, we have been happy there and…’

      ‘Have you not seen your son in all that time?’

      ‘No, my lord. Oh, I knew from the beginning we could not stay forever. Sooner or later you would come home and everything would change. But I hoped it would not be until after my daughters were safely wed. Susan married Sir Godfrey Mallard’s son some time ago and Margaret has decided to devote her life to other people’s children—she is governess to the Duke of Grafton’s children. But Lydia and Annabelle are still at home…’

      ‘Lydia,’ he said, smiling faintly. ‘She’s the one with the russet hair and the mischievous smile, isn’t she?’

      Anne smiled back, realising that he was not such an ogre and was civil enough to listen to her. But then, if he was his father’s son, he would be. ‘Yes, she is eighteen now and, though perhaps I should not say it, or even think it, she is the most comely of my children and…’ this with a little deprecating laugh ‘…the most stubborn and independent.’

      ‘Yes, I remember,’ he said. ‘She used to follow me and Freddie about and try to do everything we did. We tried to shake her off and she would disappear for a little while, but then, when we least expected it, she would be back, dogging our footsteps.’

      ‘She is past all that, my lord, and ripe for marriage. I think, in a very little time, I shall be able to announce her engagement to Sir Arthur Thomas-Smith.’

      ‘Sir Arthur!’ he exclaimed, his sympathy going out to the child he had once known in spite of who she was. The brief glimpse he had had of the gentleman the previous evening had struck a chord in his memory. He had met him somewhere before but, for the life of him, he could not recall where. He certainly could not place the name, nor that high-pitched voice. Thomas-Smith, not an aristocratic name, not a memorable name, but the face, that was different. He never forgot a face. ‘I believe I met Sir Arthur last evening, a portly gentleman of middle years.’

      ‘Yes. He is devoted to Lydia and will curb her exuberance, you may be sure. And he has the means to support her. Annabelle, who is very pretty and biddable, will soon find a suitor, especially as Sir Arthur has indicated he will provide her with a small dowry…’

      ‘I understand.’ He understood very well. Lydia was to be sacrificed. When he had last seen her, she had been no more than a child, a nuisance to two young men bent on enjoying themselves. But even then there had been something about her that was different. Independent, her mother had described her. Would such a one marry a man old enough to be her father? Well, it was not his business.

      ‘Then you will give us a little more time?’ she asked, watching his face.

      He looked at the woman sitting so still on his drawing room sofa and, though he could not even begin to forgive her son for forcing him into that duel, and he was equally certain she did not forgive him for what he had done, he could afford to be magnanimous, especially as Freddie was not at home. Somehow, the knowledge that his erstwhile friend had suffered the same fate as he had in