The Many Sins of Cris De Feaux (Lords of Disgrace) Read online

  From horseback Gabriel bowed. As he straightened his hand lay lightly on the pommel of his sword. The two chairmen lumbered to their feet, pewter tankards tight in their massive fists.

  ‘The inquest will be held in two days’ time. I require Mrs Perowne to reside at my house, chaperoned, naturally, by my wife, until then.’

  ‘You are arresting me?’

  ‘You have a warrant?’ Cris no longer sounded civil.

  ‘I have not. Nor am I arresting Mrs Perowne. This is for her own protection.’ The coroner was icy. Beside him the Revenue Officer was glaring at Cris, and Squire Penwith was flushed with anger, or excitement, Tamsyn thought, wondering why she did not feel more frightened. Sick, yes, but not as terrified as she ought to be. But Cris was there, of course. It was time she stood up for herself.

  ‘Against what am I being protected?’ she enquired.

  ‘Against the members of the gang responsible for this outrage,’ Trelawney snapped. ‘They will not want you giving evidence, I’ll warrant.’

  ‘The implications of that statement are insulting, Sir James.’ Cris cut across her furious reply. ‘To say nothing of prejudicial to a fair hearing. I see you are escorted by the militia. If you are fearful for Mrs Perowne’s safety, then I suggest that stationing them outside her house on guard will be more than adequate. It might also persuade the lady not to take a civil action for wrongful arrest, unlawful detention, kidnapping and defamation of character.’

  ‘Defamation?’ Penwith spluttered. ‘A smuggler’s moll has no character to be defamed, sir!’

  Cris jerked his head at Gabriel, who circled his horse and brought it in on Foxy’s other side. As soon as he was in position Cris walked Jackdaw forward until the big black was nose to nose with Penwith’s horse.

  ‘On the last occasion we met, sir, I suggested a meeting in a field. At dawn. That still seems to me to be an admirable idea.’

  ‘Duelling is illegal,’ Penwith said. His horse began to back up; Jackdaw pressed in closer.

  ‘So it is,’ Cris said silkily. ‘A minor disadvantage. A greater one in this case is that it requires two gentlemen who both possess a little courage.’

  ‘Enough of this.’ The coroner directed a scornful glance at Penwith. ‘Your suggestion is sound, Mr Defoe. Sergeant Willis, you will deploy your men at Barbary Combe House and deliver…escort Mrs Perowne to my court the day after tomorrow for a ten o’clock hearing. Good day to you all. Enjoy your picnic, ladies.’

  ‘Insolent wretch,’ Aunt Rosie said, her voice cutting through the clear air. ‘I knew him when he was a boy, and he was a pompous little no-account then.’ Sir James’s ears turned scarlet, but he did not turn. ‘And as for that jackass Penwith, you are wasting your time attempting to arrange an affair of honour, Mr Defoe. He has none.’

  ‘Cris—’

  He rode back, dismounted and held up his hands to her. ‘Courage, Tamsyn. They are blustering. It can only be a bluff. Now come down, eat this wonderful picnic, admire the view.’

  ‘Of course.’ She managed a smile. ‘I cannot let those idiots spoil Aunt Rosie’s special day.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he murmured as she slid into his hands, down the length of the hard steady body. ‘I’m here, they won’t hurt you.’

  She stood for a moment, just leaning into him, feeling the strength and the reassurance flowing from him to her, wishing she could put her head on his shoulder. Instead she pushed away and walked towards the militiamen. Do not weaken. He won’t be here forever. ‘Sergeant Willis, isn’t it? Do make yourselves comfortable. None of us are going anywhere for a while and I am certain our picnic will stretch to give you your luncheon also.’

  ‘Ma’am.’ The sergeant looked hideously uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and looked round as though for inspiration.

  ‘Might I suggest your men stand guard, one at a time on rotation, while the rest of you sit over there with our staff and refresh yourselves?’ Cris scanned the surrounding area. ‘I feel certain that the country hereabouts is open enough to give good warning of the approach of dangerous gangs of smugglers intent on subverting Mrs Perowne’s evidence.’

  ‘Er…yes, sir. Just as you say, thank you, sir. Perkins! You heard the gentleman. On patrol for half an hour, then you, Downton.’ They marched off stiffly.

  Tamsyn fought a rather hysterical giggle. ‘This would be funny. If it—’

  ‘Wasn’t,’ Cris finished. ‘Quite. A very bad farce. Come and sit down.’

  She managed a rueful smile for the aunts, both of whom, she was relieved to see, were fuming rather than fearful. ‘I simply cannot believe that there really is a large-scale smuggling operation going on,’ she said, once they were settled with slices of raised pie and cheese and apples. ‘Things were becoming more difficult even before Jory died. With the end of the war and the changes in taxes, there just isn’t the range of things to smuggle to make it worthwhile. Not on this coast, at any rate.’

  ‘I suppose they cannot overlook a murder,’ Aunt Rosie said, obviously struggling to be fair. ‘But they must be demented to think Tamsyn has anything to do with it.’

  ‘After the inquest it will be quite apparent there is no evidence.’ Gabriel sprawled with careless elegance across one corner of the rug, a chicken leg in one hand. ‘I assume you have been nowhere near this Cat’s Nose Bay, Mrs Perowne?’

  ‘Not for several weeks,’ she said. ‘But I know it. It was one of Jory’s favourite landing beaches and it is probably still used for some small runs. But violence has never been the way down here, not since Jory was running things. He always found a way to slip past the militia and the Revenue. Someone must have been desperate, or cornered.’

  ‘You don’t shoot a man in the back if he’s cornered you,’ Cris pointed out drily.

  Aunt Izzy was beginning to look anxious. Tamsyn took a deep breath and found a smile from somewhere. ‘The inquest will be held in Kilkhampton, so I will be able to get some shopping done at that excellent milliners Mrs Holworthy recommended. We must make a list of what we need.’

  Always assuming I am not being hauled off to the lock-up right after the inquest.

  Her tone and smile must have been suitably optimistic, for Aunt Izzy brightened up and reminded her that there was also a very good stationers and they needed sealing wax and black ink.

  Somehow they managed to ignore the militiamen marching up and down, a discordant flash of scarlet in the corner of the eye, however hard everyone looked the other way and pretended they were not there.

  Eventually Rosie announced that she was becoming a little tired and perhaps they should return. The picnic was loaded on the pack pony, the sedan chair set off down the hill and the two men flanked Tamsyn with the militiamen bringing up the rear.

  ‘Right, now we are out of earshot of your aunts, let’s have a serious discussion about this,’ Cris said briskly. Tamsyn felt an irrational wave of relief that he was not going to pretend everything would be all right. It was not and she needed help, not soothing. ‘First thing, we get that silver hand of yours out of the house.’

  ‘How? They will stop any of us leaving, I am certain. And if they search, they will search everyone’s possessions.’

  ‘I’ve a secret compartment in my carriage. It has defeated virtually every border guard on the Continent. If you go and get the hand out of the strong box immediately when we get back, then I’ll find an excuse to be in the stables, getting Jackdaw settled.’

  That was a relief. She pushed to the back of her mind the question of why Cris needed a secret compartment in his carriage.

  ‘I am assuming this is another of Chelford’s little games,’ he continued.

  ‘Franklin? But this is murder…’ She thought about it while Cris rode on in silence, waiting for her to catch up with his reasoning. ‘He spreads rumours about a new smuggling gang, he shoots that poor man and somehow implicates me? That would explain Sir James’s confidence. But there cannot be any evidence.’

  ‘That
is what is worrying me,’ Gabriel said. ‘It means that something has been fabricated and it is likely to be something so obvious that even that blockheaded coroner will swallow it.’

  Perhaps, after all, it would be nice to be treated like a damsel in distress and not be subjected to this bracing dose of reality. As if he sensed her wavering courage Cris reached out and closed his hand over hers on the reins. ‘Don’t worry, we’re here. If you can just get it clear in your mind that you are not going to be hauled off to gaol and hanged, you can relax and enjoy this.’

  ‘Relax!’ It came out as a shriek before she could help herself. ‘How do you expect me to enjoy this?’

  ‘We are going to tie Chelford in knots,’ Gabriel said with relish. ‘Hang him up by the ba—that is, by the toes and leave him swinging in the wind.’

  ‘There is no need to mince your words for me, Mr Stone,’ Tamsyn said crisply. ‘I like the idea of suspending Franklin by the balls. It appeals very much indeed.’

  ‘To which end, I’d be glad if you’d go back to London, Gabe, and carry on with the investigations we discussed this morning.’ Cris released her hand with a small squeeze.

  ‘After the inquest. I might pick up some more information there.’

  ‘Mr Stone is here for more than the delivery of the sedan chair, is he not?’ she demanded.

  Cris shrugged. ‘He has been investigating Chelford in London for me.’ He leaned forward so he could look at his friend across her. ‘There was no reason, other than incorrigible curiosity, for him to have come down here himself instead of writing.’

  ‘I told you,’ Gabriel said laconically. ‘I am running away from a woman.’

  *

  It was not until they reached Barbary Combe House that Tamsyn realised that the two of them had managed to keep her distracted and laughing with their inconsequential teasing, all the way back. She let Cris help her down from Foxy, allowing herself the indulgence, this time, of sliding down his body, and then stayed close, enjoying the heat and the feeling of strength and the evidence that her body next to his aroused him.

  She was conscious of the sergeant watching them and deliberately raised her voice as she broke free from Cris’s supporting hands. ‘If you wait just a moment, I will bring you what is left of the herbs that the farrier gave me for Foxy’s sore hoof. If Jackdaw is favouring his off hind, it might help.’

  The militiamen made no move to stop her as she ran into the house, through to her study, and took the key to the strongbox from its hiding place behind the desk. The old lock creaked and protested as she turned the big key, but it opened easily enough and she rummaged quickly, burrowing beneath the documents for the box with the silver hand. It was not there.

  She searched again, then once more, tossing the papers out on to the floor, heedless of deeds and indentures mixing with a roll of banknotes. There was no box except the aunts’ jewellery and those boxes were all too small, or too flat, to hold the pendant. There was no silver hand, not even the chain. She scooped it all back, just as it was, slammed the lid on the chaos and locked the strongbox, then ran to hide the key and on to the stillroom to find a mixture of harmless herbs.

  ‘There was no need to hurry so,’ Cris said when she reached his side again. He was talking to one of the militiamen and gave him the sort of look that always made her want to slap a man. Silly female, still, we have to tolerate them, don’t we? it said. The sergeant smirked.

  He is getting him on his side, Tamsyn realised. ‘What I was looking for was not there any more,’ she said brightly. ‘But I thought this might help with any swelling.’

  Cris took the bowl from her hands, sniffed it. ‘To be applied as a poultice? Can you show Collins?’ He glanced at the militiaman. ‘We are just going up to the stables. Are you coming?’

  ‘Don’t see how I needs to, sir.’ The man shifted his feet uncomfortably. ‘Load of foolishness, if you asks me. The sergeant said I was to watch the lane, not follow anyone about. Dan’s round the back, Sarge is looking at the beach. You’re not going nowhere, are you, ma’am?’

  ‘No, I am not. You’re Willie Downton’s brother, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Jed. I liked Mr Jory, I did. I’d known him since I was a boy. They’ve no cause to be hounding his widow, not no how.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Jed. But you must obey your orders, I don’t want to get you into any trouble. If you stand there, then you are keeping an eye on the stable yard and the lane.’

  In the yard Collins was unsaddling Jackdaw. ‘Is he favouring the off hind?’ Cris asked. The man grunted, his gaze sweeping the yard and surroundings while Cris ran his hand down Jackdaw’s leg and lifted the hoof.

  Tamsyn came and studied it, close by his side. ‘The hand has gone,’ she whispered. ‘And the chain. Nothing else is missing, not even a roll of banknotes or the jewellery.’

  ‘When did you last see it?’ Cris made no attempt to moderate his voice and Tamsyn copied him. Being seen whispering would only look suspicious.

  ‘Months ago. It was in a black bag. I wouldn’t notice it unless I was looking especially for it.’ She bit her lip in thought. ‘I haven’t seen it since before Franklin was last here. He could have taken it easily.’

  Cris made a remark to Collins about Jackdaw’s hoof, handed him the herbs and took Tamsyn’s arm to walk back down to the house.

  ‘He must have been planning this ever since Aunt Izzy refused to move to the dower house,’ she said, as they went in through the kitchen door.

  ‘He has taken an object that not only ties you in closely to your late husband, but is a potent symbol of his smuggling activities.’ Cris sounded grim.

  She swung round to face him. ‘You are worrying me now.’

  ‘And you are not already concerned?’ His wry smile sent a jolt of panic through her. ‘There is no point in me treating you like some feather-headed chit and pretending everything will be all right without us putting some effort into it. What would Chelford think would happen to your aunts if you were hauled off to prison to await trial?’

  ‘He would never believe they could manage on their own.’

  ‘He would expect them to retreat, trembling, to your aunt Isobel’s nearest male relative for shelter.’

  ‘But they would not. They would hire a steward, take on more men.’

  ‘He underestimates them, in effect. But he is only going to discover that too late.’ Cris kept going, through the bathing room and into the drawing room, which was deserted.

  ‘I confess I would rather he did not have to find out that way.’ Somehow she kept her voice from trembling. Murder was a capital offence.

  Cris turned, frowned. ‘You think I would let it get that far? You do not have much faith in me, do you?’

  ‘What can you do? They must have some evidence, even if it is false.’ She wanted to wring her hands, pace about. Instead she made herself stand still, look the thing firmly in the eye and face facts, deal with it.

  ‘The day after tomorrow is the inquest, not a trial. It is to establish the cause of death and to record the circumstances. Come here.’ He pulled her to him a little roughly, held her, and for a second she thought his hands shook. Then he was stroking one firmly down her back as though soothing a spooked horse and his voice, which had roughened, was steady and reassuring. ‘Tamsyn, I swear to you that I will keep you safe.’

  ‘Why?’ She jerked away before the safety of his body, the reassurance of his arms, left her so weak she would not be able to stand on her own two feet. ‘You don’t belong here, you hardly know me. Why should you get involved in this mess?’

  *

  Cris answered without stopping to analyse it. ‘Because I probably owe you my life. Because I like you, and your aunts. Because you are my lover. And, when you come right down to it, I’ll be damned if that little weasel Chelford gets away with this. Whatever it is.’

  And because dealing with this keeps my mind from thinking about all those things I don’t want to deal with. The
mess I got my head into over Katerina. Thinking about the wife I must acquire. My respectable future and how to fill it. Leaving you.

  ‘Oh. That is certainly a comprehensive list.’ There was a hint of a smile now and her colour was coming back. He had not liked her calm, her control. It had looked too much like shock to him. Either that or an inability to see just how serious this might be if it was not dealt with hard and ruthlessly. He wanted her aware of the dangers, but confident and ready to fight. It shook him, how much he worried about her. For a moment there he had almost let his feelings overwhelm him. He had wanted to kiss her senseless, overwhelm her with assurances, treat her like some fragile little miss who had to be tucked away in cotton wool.

  And that was foolish because he would be gone soon, back to London, back to his own, real life, and Tamsyn would be here, carrying on with hers, needing to stand on her own two feet. Just as soon as she was out of danger.

  ‘Tell me your plans,’ he said, pushing her to think, watchful that he did not push too far.

  ‘Cheer up the aunts, get the accounts straight, choose the best outfit for appearing at an inquest—and carry on racking my brains for some hint as to what Franklin is up to.’ Her chin was up, her voice was steady. Yes, she was all right to leave now. Fussing over her would only make her more unsettled.

  ‘That sounds comprehensive to me. I’ll go and find out what Gabriel’s plans are. He should be heading back to London as soon as possible.’

  ‘Cris.’ Tamsyn was half turned from him, the colour up charmingly on the curve of cheek that was visible to him. ‘Tonight…’

  ‘Will you come to my bedchamber? It is quite isolated, as you said.’ Now that sweet curve was rosy with embarrassment. ‘I do not keep Collins hanging around after dinner. If you were to drop by for, shall we say, a nightcap at about eleven I think you might find me unable to sleep.’ It was unexpected, the way he felt his heartrate kick up, how his body was already hardening at the thought.

  This is a pleasant diversion. A temporary thing. A reaction. I will forget her and this world of fishermen and smugglers and sheep soon enough when this is all over and I am back in London.