Sir Ashley's Mettlesome Match. Mary Nichols

often do it,’ she said. ‘It helps me to think.’

      ‘Can you not think at home?’

      ‘Yes, but sometimes I cannot sleep and then it is best to go out and feel the wind on my face and see the moonlight shining like a silver ribbon on the water and the tide swirling about the rocky pools. It makes me feel humble and thankful for the life I have.’

      He would not describe her as humble and fancied that like most people of her colouring she had a fiery temper. ‘There was no moon last night.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Were you not afraid when you saw what was happening on the beach?’

      ‘Not until the dragoons arrived and then I was fearful for the men.’

      ‘Did you know any of them?’

      ‘It was dark and I was not close enough to identify anyone.’

      ‘But you did recognise your cousin.’

      ‘He was brought close to where I was hiding.’

      ‘What does your aunt think of you going out at night? I assume you live with her.’

      ‘Not exactly. She lives with us.’

      ‘Us?’

      ‘My brother and me. It is my brother who is the householder.’

      So, she was not Mrs Whiteside’s companion as he had at first surmised. He found himself looking at her in a different light. ‘Where was he last night when you were out watching smugglers?’

      She was afraid he might ask that and was reluctant to tell him she did not know. He would undoubtedly jump to the conclusion that Nat was involved with the free traders and he might possibly be right. ‘He is away from home at the moment.’

      He was aware of her wariness in answering, but he did not pursue that line of enquiry. ‘And your parents?’

      ‘They were drowned in a boating accident nine years ago. Aunt Augusta moved in with us soon after that.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘She seemed to think we could not manage on our own.’

      ‘From what I have learned I can understand that,’ he said with a teasing smile. ‘If you make a habit of wandering about at night to help you think. Most ladies I know would be terrified of doing such a thing.’

      ‘Of thinking?’ she queried, laughing.

      He laughed, too. ‘That, too, but I meant walking out alone.’

      ‘Then the ladies you know must be mean-spirited.’

      He had not thought of that, but on reflection decided she was probably right. Even his mistresses obeyed the rules of convention. Arabella liked to pretend she was a lady, but Miss Kingslake, who undoubtedly was one, did not care. He wondered what had made her like that. ‘I begin to feel sorry for your aunt,’ he said.

      ‘Oh, I know we are a handful, but she is very fond of us.’

      ‘Us being you and your brother?’

      ‘Yes. He is four years younger than I and took it very hard when Mama and Papa were drowned. I tried to look after him and, if that meant being strong and independent, then that is what I was, what I am. We are very close.’

      ‘It is perhaps a pity that he is from home at the moment.’

      ‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘He might have prevented Ben going to the beach last night.’

      ‘Am I right in supposing your cousin is always into mischief?’

      ‘He is fifteen years old, Sir Ashley—all young men of that age are into mischief. Ben has been somewhat spoiled by his mother, but there is not a malicious bone in him. I do hope you can persuade the magistrate of that.’

      ‘I shall do my best, when I have spoken to the boy.’

      ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, suddenly angry. ‘He must tell all he knows in exchange for his freedom. Don’t you know that turning King’s Evidence is as good as a sentence of death hereabouts?’

      ‘Smuggling is punishable by death—’

      ‘Innocent as he is, he cannot win,’ she stormed. ‘If the law doesn’t get him, the smugglers will. It is not fair and I shall make sure the world knows it. And don’t think I can’t.’ She was looking at him with such fury in her green eyes, he found his earlier question answered—this ginger cat had claws and he had better watch out.

      Her question had been answered too. Sir Ashley Saunders was almost certainly a foe. Her bitter disappointment in him made her want to weep. But she had not shed tears for over six years and no man, however attractive, was going to make her cry again. She turned her face resolutely from him and looked out at the countryside again

       Chapter Two

      Ash had detected the moisture in her eyes, though it was disguised by anger. Until now she had been perfectly composed, answering his questions, apparently hiding nothing and unperturbed by his disclosure that he was on the side of the law. He had been prepared to believe that her young cousin had been innocent and he only wanted to speak to the boy to verify that, not to have him turn King’s Evidence. If the lad had simply gone down to the beach to watch, there was nothing he could tell him, certainly not the name of the real smugglers, the ones who paid for the goods and organised their sale. If they could be brought to book, the smuggling might be curtailed; he did not flatter himself he could bring it to an end. All this he had intended to explain to her, but before he could so, she had flared up like a glowing fire suddenly stirred into flame.

      In some strange way, her anger made her more attractive, not less, because under it he sensed a vulnerability he realised she would never admit. It made him feel protective towards her. But supposing she was involved with the smugglers—would he still want to defend her? It was a question he could not immediately answer.

      ‘I am sorry to find you in sympathy with lawbreakers,’ he said, probing.

      ‘I am not in sympathy with lawbreakers,’ she snapped. ‘How can I be when I have seen what they can do? They hanged a man on a homemade gibbet last year because he warned the Excise of a landing and as a result some of the free traders were caught red-handed. His body hung there for weeks as a warning to others. I do not want that to happen to Ben.’

      ‘Naturally you do not, but had you thought that travelling with me to visit a magistrate might be construed as informing? You were, after all, in a position to see what went on.’

      ‘I saw nothing that could be of any help to the Customs and Excise,’ she said. ‘Apart from Ben, I could not identify a single one of them. In any case, no one knew I was there. As far as the public is concerned, I am a simple female anxious to obtain the release of my innocent cousin.’

      ‘Why were you really on the beach?’ he demanded, smiling at the idea that she was simple. There was nothing simple about Miss Philippa Kingslake, except, perhaps, her clothes. He wondered why she had so little regard for her appearance. Most of the ladies of his acquaintance would not venture out unless they had spent at least two hours dressing in the latest mode and having their hair done and face covered in paint and powder.

      ‘I have told you. I often walk out at night.’

      ‘And do your smuggling friends know that?’

      ‘I have no smuggling friends. At least, none that I know of.’ There was a hint of a humour in her voice; she had evidently overcome her tears. ‘One can never tell who they are these days.’

      He smiled, too. ‘My involvement in securing your young relative’s release might also be misconstrued.’

      ‘Then I must face Lord Borrowdale alone. I will be broken-hearted,