Smuggler's Lair Read Free

was served. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
    â€œNot at all,” their host said smoothly.
    The dessert was trifle, Victoria’s favorite. Perversely, she didn’t want any. Without raising her lashes, she spoke to her mother. “I’m afraid I have a dreadful headache.” It wasn’t a total lie; she did feel strangely light-headed.
    Edwina pursed her lips. “Manners, Victoria, manners!”
    Manners? Swine have none!
    â€œIf Mistress Carswell has a headache, I insist you take her home immediately. I hope we can have dinner again soon.”
    There, you swine! I knew you’d find a way to be rid of us. Though she had invented the headache so she could leave, she laid the blame squarely at his door.
    As Sir Peregrine accompanied them through the neglected Great Hall to the front entrance, he gave his polite attention to Edwina’s incessant stream of words. Victoria took the opportunity to study the dark male who towered beside them. She saw that he had a birthmark that slanted down his cheek from ear to chin. He had tried to cover it by growing fashionable sideburn whiskers, but all they did was emphasize his dangerous, rakish look.
    Sir Peregrine took Edwina’s cloak from the servant and helped her into it. He did not extend the same courtesy to Victoria. A shiver ran down her back when she thought of his hands touching her. She did not know if she felt relief or disappointment.
    On the short carriage ride home, Victoria apologized for leaving the room during dinner, but the outrage she expected from her mother did not come.
    â€œYour absence gave Sir Peregrine and I the opportunity to speak freely and come to an understanding,” Edwina declared.
    â€œAbout me?” Tory asked in shocked disbelief.
    â€œWe’ll speak of it in the morning, when your headache is gone.”
    Her mother bade her good night and went upstairs, but Victoria waited for Edmund to come from the stable. With a finger to her lips, she beckoned her brother into the parlor.
    â€œWhen I left the table, what exactly did Mother and Fuller say about me?”
    â€œOur host told Mother he was most impressed with you, and that your modest, self-effacing demeanor appealed to him.”
    â€œI did play the part rather well. What did Mother say?”
    â€œShe said you were a biddable girl, then told him your virtue and chastity were only right and proper in a maiden.”
    Tory covered her mouth so her laughter wouldn’t bubble out.
    â€œSir Peregrine asked if he could pay his addresses to you.”
    Her laughter turned to dismay. “Damnation, I played my part too well!”
    â€œMother said she would be delighted and honored.”
    â€œHell and Furies! I should never have left the room to go exploring. Still, if I hadn’t, I’d never have known the dissolute devil was throwing a party in another part of the castle. The guests wore Georgian costumes and the atmosphere was bawdy .”
    Her brother looked at her oddly. “Are you sure?”
    â€œI’m not daft, Edmund. I know what I saw. Why do you think he got rid of us so quickly?”
    â€œWe left because of your headache.”
    â€œI don’t have a headache!”
    â€œGood night, Tory.” Female logic was too much for him.
    It took a long time for Tory to fall asleep. Sir Peregrine Palmer Fuller was not the nonentity she had expected. On the contrary, the man was extremely compelling. She was highly offended that he wished to forge an association with her as a stratagem to acquire respectability in the eyes of the people of Hawkhurst. Before she met him, she assumed he desired the social connection to distance himself from Mad Jack’s reputation, but now she knew it was to cover his own dissolute activities.
    I shall decline every invitation!
    As she drifted to the edge of sleep, she fancied herself in an elegant ballroom wearing a gown with scandalous décolletage . She flirted