rose.
“We will not be making depredations on your excellent wine this evening, Mr. Hartly. I am allowing Sir David to order champagne, in honor of the assembly. I am looking forward to it—the assembly, I mean.”
“As I am, madam. I daresay Stanby has beaten me to the first dance?”
“No, we were speaking of something else.” She allowed her fingers to play with the sapphires, to indicate in a seemingly unconscious way what they had been discussing. “Shall I give you the first dance?”
“I would be honored.”
“It is settled, then. How horrid of me to interrupt your dinner. There is nothing so unappetizing as cold mutton. Do sit down, Mr. Hartly.”
She waved and moved along, nodding to Ponsonby on the way.
“Am I allowed to have just one glass of wine with dinner?” he asked playfully.
“You shall have a glass of my champagne as a reward for being a good lad,” she replied in the same spirit, and called Wilf to fill a glass for Mr. Ponsonby.
It was only a small assembly at a village inn, but still Moira felt the evening held the promise of some pleasure. The champagne lent a festive atmosphere, and the gentlemen were all done up in their best jackets. Mr. Hartly was the only one with any real claim to looks, of course. She would flirt with him and see if he let anything slip about his being a Revenueman.
Jonathon carried the burden of conversation at dinner. He waxed enthusiastic about Firefly and told Moira he had found a suitable ride for them to take the next morning.
“There is a church big enough to hold a couple of thousand people,” he said, “which is strange, for there aren’t above three dozen houses in the whole village. I daresay Blaxstead must have been a larger place once. I wonder what happened to all the people?”
“I have no idea,” she said distractedly. Her mind was working on how she could get Stanby to offer to buy the jewels.
When dinner was over, Bullion began to harry the servants into clearing the room of tables and chairs for the assembly. The gentlemen removed to the small room, but as there was a liberal sprinkling of undesirables there, Moira elected to await Cousin Vera in her room abovestairs. Jonathon remained below to watch and listen.
Lady Marchbank arrived shortly after eight.
“Have you learned anything about Hartly?” was her first question. “John is worried to death about him. I feared Jonathon might have mentioned all the barrels in the caves. That is where John stores his spare cargo.”
“Jonathon did mention it, but Hartly suggested that the smugglers were using the caves without your knowledge.”
“Ah, that is good! That is what we shall say if he asks. John disliked to remove them, for the cave is so handy. I shall tell him Hartly is onto that hiding place. The stream would be safer. Did Hartly do anything about the lad who stole money from him here at the inn?”
“What are you talking about, cousin?”
“He did not tell you someone took money from his room?”
“I heard nothing of it.”
“Then John is right,” she said grimly. “He made the story up on the spot. It was a ruse to confirm that John is the magistrate. We could be in a dreadful pickle if Hartly takes that tale to London. When anyone lays a charge against the Gentlemen, John always dismisses it for lack of evidence—after he has disposed of the evidence, of course. I fear Hartly is working with the Customs people. Dear me, how can we get rid of him? Do you think he might be susceptible to a bribe?”
“That would only make your position worse, if he refused the bribe,” Moira said.
“So it would. You could always marry him” was her next notion. “He would not report his own family. He is really quite handsome and gentlemanlike. Not in the style of your usual Preventive man.”
“Marriage is a little drastic—and besides, he has not asked me. Jonathon and I shall watch him closely, cousin, and if he appears to be looking for evidence, we shall get
“We will not be making depredations on your excellent wine this evening, Mr. Hartly. I am allowing Sir David to order champagne, in honor of the assembly. I am looking forward to it—the assembly, I mean.”
“As I am, madam. I daresay Stanby has beaten me to the first dance?”
“No, we were speaking of something else.” She allowed her fingers to play with the sapphires, to indicate in a seemingly unconscious way what they had been discussing. “Shall I give you the first dance?”
“I would be honored.”
“It is settled, then. How horrid of me to interrupt your dinner. There is nothing so unappetizing as cold mutton. Do sit down, Mr. Hartly.”
She waved and moved along, nodding to Ponsonby on the way.
“Am I allowed to have just one glass of wine with dinner?” he asked playfully.
“You shall have a glass of my champagne as a reward for being a good lad,” she replied in the same spirit, and called Wilf to fill a glass for Mr. Ponsonby.
It was only a small assembly at a village inn, but still Moira felt the evening held the promise of some pleasure. The champagne lent a festive atmosphere, and the gentlemen were all done up in their best jackets. Mr. Hartly was the only one with any real claim to looks, of course. She would flirt with him and see if he let anything slip about his being a Revenueman.
Jonathon carried the burden of conversation at dinner. He waxed enthusiastic about Firefly and told Moira he had found a suitable ride for them to take the next morning.
“There is a church big enough to hold a couple of thousand people,” he said, “which is strange, for there aren’t above three dozen houses in the whole village. I daresay Blaxstead must have been a larger place once. I wonder what happened to all the people?”
“I have no idea,” she said distractedly. Her mind was working on how she could get Stanby to offer to buy the jewels.
When dinner was over, Bullion began to harry the servants into clearing the room of tables and chairs for the assembly. The gentlemen removed to the small room, but as there was a liberal sprinkling of undesirables there, Moira elected to await Cousin Vera in her room abovestairs. Jonathon remained below to watch and listen.
Lady Marchbank arrived shortly after eight.
“Have you learned anything about Hartly?” was her first question. “John is worried to death about him. I feared Jonathon might have mentioned all the barrels in the caves. That is where John stores his spare cargo.”
“Jonathon did mention it, but Hartly suggested that the smugglers were using the caves without your knowledge.”
“Ah, that is good! That is what we shall say if he asks. John disliked to remove them, for the cave is so handy. I shall tell him Hartly is onto that hiding place. The stream would be safer. Did Hartly do anything about the lad who stole money from him here at the inn?”
“What are you talking about, cousin?”
“He did not tell you someone took money from his room?”
“I heard nothing of it.”
“Then John is right,” she said grimly. “He made the story up on the spot. It was a ruse to confirm that John is the magistrate. We could be in a dreadful pickle if Hartly takes that tale to London. When anyone lays a charge against the Gentlemen, John always dismisses it for lack of evidence—after he has disposed of the evidence, of course. I fear Hartly is working with the Customs people. Dear me, how can we get rid of him? Do you think he might be susceptible to a bribe?”
“That would only make your position worse, if he refused the bribe,” Moira said.
“So it would. You could always marry him” was her next notion. “He would not report his own family. He is really quite handsome and gentlemanlike. Not in the style of your usual Preventive man.”
“Marriage is a little drastic—and besides, he has not asked me. Jonathon and I shall watch him closely, cousin, and if he appears to be looking for evidence, we shall get
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