Wendy Soliman Read online

“And what of the lovely Angelica?” The earl smiled. “Are not the compensations offered there worth the odd skirmish with your mother?”

  “Towbridge is about to return from Ireland. What’s more, she’s becoming less than discreet.” Felix spoke with casual disinterest, not surprised that his perspicacious father knew of the supposedly private arrangement he had with Angelica. “She’ll have to go.”

  “Be careful how you handle her dismissal, Felix. Something tells me that she likes to conduct matters on her own terms, and is unlikely to take rejection well.”

  Felix grimaced. “You’re likely right about that.”

  “Well, then…I don’t want trouble with Towbridge. He has the prince’s ear, and influence that you and I can only dream of.”

  “Warning noted, Father, but what about Plymouth? Am I to accompany you?”

  “Very well. I’ll tell Smithers to expect us in a sennight. Denby has requested an interview with me on the morrow — ”

  “Ah, so he’s serious in the pursuit of my sister then?”

  “Yes, but I never doubted it. He’s in dire need of her dowry.”

  “Hmm, so I understand.”

  “He’ll make her a good husband, and anyway, she’s determined to have him.”

  “Well then, everyone’s happy. Perhaps that will occupy Mother’s mind for a while, and grant me a respite.”

  “How I admire the optimism of youth.” The earl chuckled. “However, as I was saying, we shall stay here and see Denby tomorrow, and attend the duchess’s ball tomorrow night en family to celebrate the good news. You can use that opportunity to warn Angelica of your departure. I wouldn’t want her to hear of it elsewhere.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “You don’t know the half of it yet.”

  “There’s more?” Felix quirked a brow. “What else must I do in order to qualify for escape?”

  “Well, I’ll leave it to you to square your departure with your mother.”

  Felix groaned. “Very well.”

  The earl stood and drained his glass. “Now, come along, the least you can do is accompany me next door and be polite to Maria Denby for half an hour.”

  Felix smiled. “Under the circumstances, I suppose I have little choice.”

  “None whatsoever.”

  Chapter Two

  AT THE DUCHESS’S BALL, Felix danced one cotillion with Angelica, under the eagle-eye of her husband. He behaved impeccably, and even the possessive Towbridge could find nothing to which he could take exception. As they joined hands to pass down the dance, Felix whispered to her to meet him after the dance on the terrace.

  When the dance ended, Felix slipped through a side door. Angelica appeared a few minutes later. He pulled her into a concealed alcove, out of sight of the other strolling couples.

  “Darling!” Angelica offered him a heart-stopping smile. “Do you miss me so much that you’d take such risks to steal a few moments alone?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and covered his face with a series of delicate kisses.

  This wasn’t going according to plan, but the feel of her body pressed against his, the warmth of the evening, the restlessness of his spirit, and the precariousness of their situation, stirred his blood. Wordlessly, he pulled her closer and kissed her. Even as he did, so some part of his mind screamed out a warning, telling him not to be so foolish. He was taking an absurd risk. But awareness of the danger, of the likelihood of discovery, merely spurred him on.

  There were four hundred people just yards away from them, on the other side of the wall they were putting to such good use. There were dozens more people strolling the terrace, mere feet away. There was one very possessive husband, possibly even now searching for his wife. With superhuman effort Felix pulled away from her, breathing heavily, throbbing with desire.

  “Angelica, I have to warn you that I won’t be about for a while. I’m leaving for Plymouth with my father tomorrow.”

  “You’re leaving me?” Her eyes blazed with fury. “Why? When will you return?”

  “We have business that can’t wait. As soon as it’s done I shall return to town.”

  That wasn’t what he’d intended to say. He’d meant to use this crowded place, where it would be impossible for her to make a scene, to terminate their arrangement. But he’d reckoned without her unpredictability, and could tell from her petulant expression that she wouldn’t think twice about throwing a tantrum right here in the middle of a society ball if she felt so minded. Better to break things off by stages. Get her used to his absences.

  She opened her mouth to upbraid him, but before she could speak they heard her husband’s voice calling to her. Never had Felix been more grateful for an interruption.

  “Go and lean on the balustrade. Tell him you needed some air.” Felix pushed her away from him and concealed himself deeper in the alcove.

  “Ah, there you are, my love,” he heard Towbridge say. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

  “Just getting some air, my dear. It’s so hot in there.”

  “No particular reason for you being warm, is there?” Felix could hear the hope in Towbridge’s voice.

  “None that I’m aware of.”

  “Oh, well. Pity, that. Never mind, we’ll just have to try a little harder.” Felix risked a glance in their direction, and observed Towbridge crudely grasp his wife’s bottom. “Now come, my dear, and make pretty with Lord Reagan. I need him to do me a favour for His Royal Highness.”

  “Oh, Simon, must I? He’s such an old goat. The last time I danced with him he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

  Towbridge guffawed. “The devil took liberties, did he? Ah well, it’s your own fault, my love, for being so damned desirable. Now, come on and do your duty by me in the ballroom, and later, as a penance for allowing Regan to take such liberties, there are some other things that you might do for me in private.”

  Towbridge’s suggestive chuckle faded away as he led his wife back inside. Felix smiled, well able to imagine the disgusted look on Angelica’s beautiful face. For once he felt a smidgen of pity for her plight, self-inflicted though it might be.

  Returning to the ballroom, Felix danced one dutiful dance with his sister Christina, who was so animated at having secured Denby that she appeared almost pretty. He took to the floor once more with Lady Maria, just to keep his mother happy, and then escaped to the card room in search of congenial male company.

  The following day, Felix endured his mother’s wrath when she learned of his plans.

  “But, Felix, what of Lady Maria?”

  “Lady Maria?” He feigned surprise. “What has she to do with it?”

  “Well, I thought that you and she — ”

  “Christina is now safely engaged to Denby. You need no further assistance from me in that respect.”

  “But I thought that you liked Lady Maria.”

  He raised a brow. “Why ever would you think that?”

  “But, Felix, the Denbys are one of the best families in the ton. They can trace their ancestors back to Tudor times.”

  “As can we.”

  “Which is why an alliance between you and Lady Maria would be so suitable.”

  “Our families are already united by Christina and Denby.” He paused. “And Christina’s substantial dowry.”

  His mother shuddered. “Pray, don’t mention anything so tactless as money in my presence.”

  Felix held on to his temper with the greatest of difficulty. “Mother, I did your bidding in order to secure Denby for Christina, but I have no further interest in Maria Denby.”

  “But you will return for Christina’s betrothal party?” His mother’s entreaty warned Felix that she didn’t intend to give up her matrimonial ambitions on his behalf.

  “If father and I have concluded our business, you may rely upon my attendance.”

  Felix excused himself and left his mother’s sitting room, determined that he’d seen the last of the ton and her tiresome interference i
n his affairs for the current season.

  The following Monday found Colonel Smithers in the drawing room at Western Hall. As Chief Officer of the Preventative Waterguard for the South West, his occupation was far from easy. Smuggling was universally looked upon as a traditional profession made respectable by the passage of time.

  It was rare to find a man as honest and dedicated as Smithers, and the earl held him in high regard. But his profession was as frustrating as it was thankless. He commanded too few men to fight the smugglers, and those men that he did have were susceptible to bribery and intimidation. The long-awaited peace following the conflict in France saw the demobilisation of three hundred thousand soldiers and sailors, but none of the gainful employment which the returning heroes felt they had the right to expect was forthcoming. That being the case, it wasn’t difficult to persuade those returning to the south-western coast to engage in smuggling activities. Felix knew that for one night spent unloading contraband cargo a man could expect to earn the equivalent of one week’s pay from a legitimate profession.

  As befitted their elevated position within the locality, Felix and his father promoted Smithers’ struggle to control these illegal activities. But that didn’t prevent them from privately entertaining a certain amount of sympathy for the smugglers’ plight, when they expressed indignation at being unable to secure legitimate work after having willingly risked their lives for King and country.

  “So, what specifically did you wish to see me about, Smithers?” asked the earl, when the preliminaries had been done with.

  “A village by the name of Burton Bradstock, my lord, which is a key landing area for smugglers situated in the Lyme Bay area.”

  “What about it?”

  “Smuggling in that vicinity is getting out of control, my lords. The area in question spreads across some seventeen miles, from Portland at one end of the bay to Burton Bradstock at the other. It would help no end if we could have coastal blockades, such as those that have just been erected along the Kent and Sussex coasts.”

  The earl scowled. “I dare say it would, but we don’t always get what we want.”

  “We’re fighting an increasingly desperate battle without blockades. The men are ingenious when it comes to finding ways of landing their cargo, and we’re seldom able to obtain co-operation from any of the villages, since most of their inhabitants are involved.”

  “What cargoes are in vogue nowadays, Smithers?” Felix asked.

  “Casks of good cognac are now streaming out of France, my lord, plus the usual tobacco, wine, gin, silk and, of course, tea. They often bury the cargo at sea and collect it later. Or else it’s landed by night and taken away by horse and cart, or buried under villagers’ cottages and in caves.” He lifted his shoulders. “We do what we can to catch them at it, but always seem to be one step behind.”

  “You have your work cut out for you, Smithers, by the sounds of things,” Felix said.

  “Indeed, my lord, and it’s not helped by the fact that so many types of people are now involved. Even women!”

  Felix hid his amusement with difficulty. That the fairer sex would consider active involvement in such activities clearly affronted the Customs man’s sensibilities.

  “In what respect, Smithers?”

  “Well, there was an incident recently in Gosport where a woman who supplied the crew of a boat with slops went out in a wherry to Spithead, when a sudden squall came down and sank the boat. All the watermen on board were drowned, but the life of the woman was saved, as she was buoyed up with a quantity of bladders secreted about her person for the purpose of smuggling liquor into the ship.”

  Felix and his father roared with laughter. “A case of being buoyed up by good spirits, it would seem.”

  The earl rose and refilled their glasses. “All this is obviously frustrating for you, Smithers, but it’s hardly anything new. What in particular has brought Burton Bradstock to your attention?”

  “Well, the principal gang of smugglers situated near that village are the Northovers.”

  Felix was elegantly slouched in a deep armchair, one booted leg casually draped across his opposite knee. “I’ve heard of them,” he said.

  “It doesn’t surprise me, my lord. But what you may not know is that another family in that locality is also active in illegal transactions.”

  “Who are they?” the earl asked.

  Smithers paused and pulled himself up to his full height. “The patriarch is Samuel Barker. His father owned a couple of fast luggers, and doubtless dabbled in a spot of contraband in his day, but Samuel has moved beyond such pedestrian activities. We have known about him for some time, but over the past couple of years his wealth appears to have increased disproportionately, arousing our suspicions. We discovered that he wasn’t above running the French blockades during the war to get brandy out, and we know that he took advantage of the war to run sugar out of the Indies, making vast profits.”

  “Nothing illegal about that — the sugar I mean,” remarked the earl.

  “Indeed not, my lord, but you will be aware that since the end of the hostilities the bottom has fallen out of the sugar trade.”

  “Indeed.”

  “But Barker’s interest in the Indies hasn’t lessened.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “We strongly suspect that Barker has gone into the people-smuggling business. Former slaves are being smuggled into this country and sold for phenomenal amounts into households that require, say, a black footman.”

  “Good God!” Felix and his father spoke in unison.

  A pause ensued, which was broken by the earl. “I’m having difficulty comprehending your precise meaning, Smithers. I assume you’re quite sure of your facts?”

  “Absolutely, my lord. The abolition of slavery hasn’t proved to be quite the utopia that the abolitionists, or the slaves themselves for that matter, had hoped for.”

  “A period of readjustment is bound to be necessary.”

  “Indeed, but in the meantime that leaves unscrupulous people such as Barker free to take shameless advantage of the prevailing unrest. People in this country — quite often ladies, I regret to say — are anxious to have a black servant to show off to their friends, and Barker is only too happy to oblige them. Greater profit for him, and less risk involved than smuggling his normal contraband. He can run a ship full of legitimate cargo, and easily stow away half a dozen Negroes at the same time.”

  “How have you gathered this intelligence, Smithers?” Felix asked.

  “We’ve suspected something of the sort for a long time, but about a month ago we apprehended one such person. A landing in rough weather went wrong, our men intervened, and one of the men being smuggled-in was left for dead on the beach. He had sustained an apparently fatal gunshot wound during the skirmish, but happily survived. Obviously, though, it suits our purpose for Barker to believe otherwise. The man knew little about who arranged his passage but, from what information we were able to glean, every avenue leads back to Barker. The only problem is that we’re unable to produce proof and put an end to him.”

  “But, I’m still not entirely sure that I have the pleasure of follow your reasoning,” the earl said, frowning. “There’s already a sizeable enclave of free blacks and Mulattos in England…and I’ve seen any number of black servants in the various country houses I visit. So, it begs the question, if people are so anxious to obtain Negroes as retainers, why go to the trouble and expense and having them illegally shipped over?”

  “The growing problem of poverty and destitution amongst Negroes in this country is appalling, my lord. If I tell you that it’s ten times worse than that which exists for the white man, perhaps it will assist your lordships to appreciate the extent of their misery. The unfortunate blacks are the last to be offered honest work or Christian charity. Those not already employed are precluded from obtaining gainful employment, due to poor health and debilitated strength. The Government of the day, back in eighty-seven, recognized the p
roblem and attempted to solve it by sending three shiploads to Sierra Leone, to set up a colony and become self-supportive.”

  “Yes, I do indeed recall that there was something of a rumpus about it at the time.” The earl rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

  “But, to return to Barker’s evil trade, my lords, the purchasers of the former slaves require young, strong, and attractive men and women.”

  “But if they have lived their lives as slaves, then surely their health and strength will have suffered, too?” Felix said.

  “Not to such a great extent. As in any sphere of life, the strongest survive, only to get stronger. And the procurers of the immigrants are artful; they select only the elite from amongst the young people, and do so by integrating themselves in their communities and listening to them talk the dissatisfied talk of the young. That’s how they identify their targets. Barker’s recruiters fall into conversation with them, finding that many of them mention family already in England and speculate enviously about how much better their lives must be. Barker’s men play upon this weakness and offer them the opportunity of a passage to England.

  “It’s only when they get here that they realize they’ll never see their families and that they are, effectively, slaves once again. Whoever purchases them must offer them board and lodging, but they don’t trouble themselves to pay their new servants a stipend, telling them instead that they must first work off the cost of their passage. Once they realize that their situation has gone from bad to worse, it’s too late to do anything about it, for although they are not physically restrained in their new masters’ houses, they soon learn that they’re unlikely to find another position without a good character. Many of the young women, sadly, find themselves swelling the numbers and choices of nationalities available to the clientele in the bawdy houses,” Smithers said with obvious disgust.

  “This is quite remarkable,” the earl said in an undertone, almost as though he was talking to himself. “So much evil…it makes one quite desperate! Clearly Barker must be stopped. What about the master of the vessel which brought the man in? Can he not be pressured to tell us more?”