Smuggler's Lair Read Free Page B

up. It lacked furnishings of any sort and its gaping, empty fireplaces were blackened with soot. The wooden dais had splintered boards. Decay from disuse was apparent everywhere.
    â€œMistress Carswell, what a delightful surprise.”
    Tory whirled about at the sound of the deep, masculine voice.
    He waved his hand. “Bodiam is in deplorable condition, I’m afraid. All needs to be repaired and refurbished.”
    â€œThat will take a deal of tender loving care, not to mention a fortune, Sir Peregrine.”
    His dark eyes lit with amusement. “Fortunately, I have both.”
    â€œYou also have—”
    He held up his hand. “Please allow me to show you more hospitality than Bodiam’s Great Hall affords. I have only refurbished a couple of small chambers. Let us repair to my sitting room.” He led the way and Victoria followed to a small chamber adjacent to the dining room they had used two days ago. Its stone walls were hung with tapestries, the flagstones were covered by a deep-piled carpet, and comfortable brocaded chairs and settees were arranged in front of a small stone fireplace.
    â€œYou were saying?” he prompted.
    Tory lifted her chin. “You also have bald-faced effrontery.”
    His dark eyes glittered. “I warrant you are about to explain.”
    â€œThe only possible reason you can have for inviting my family to dinner and wishing to pay your addresses to me is to lend yourself a veneer of respectability. You believe an alliance with the straitlaced daughter of the Right Reverend Thomas Carswell will provide a smoke screen for your profligate pleasures.” She paused for dramatic effect, then delivered the coup de grâce. “Sorry to disappoint you, Sir Peregrine, but I am neither prim nor proper!”
    His mouth curved. “In that case, have some sherry.”
    â€œI’ll have port,” she said defiantly.
    He poured two glasses and handed her one. “Do sit and tell me what profligate activities you have discovered.”
    Tory took a chair and, to give her the courage she would need, took a large gulp of port. A red rose bloomed in her breast and she liked the warm feeling the wine produced.
    â€œDinner with the Carswells the other night was a ruse. You couldn’t wait to be rid of us so you could join the bawdy guests you’d invited to your masquerade ball. When I excused myself, I went exploring and discovered the dissolute gathering.”
    His dark eyebrows drew together for a moment and then he grabbed her hand. “Show me,” he ordered.
    She clutched her wine with one hand and pulled her other one from his. “You don’t believe I discovered your secret party. Follow me, I’ll soon show you.”
    Tory ascended the staircase with Fuller towering at her side. She turned and went down the long passageway. In the dim light of day it looked even more neglected. At first Tory couldn’t find the place she sought, but by retracing her steps and turning in a different direction, they came upon the minstrels’ gallery.
    â€œThe party was down there. I saw them clearly from here.”
    He seemed intrigued. “You actually saw them? I’ve heard music, but I’ve never seen anyone.”
    â€œOf course I saw them! Surely you’re not trying to fob them off as ghosts?” she scoffed. She looked down at the empty chamber below and was amazed at how different it now seemed. The deserted room looked dingy and dilapidated. Without the glittering guests and the light of myriad candles the chamber appeared desolate.
    â€œCan you describe the guests’ costumes?”
    â€œI most certainly can. They wore Georgian dress. The men were in powdered wigs and satin knee breeches. The ladies, and I use the term lightly, wore exquisite jewels and their gowns exposed their . . . charms . . . in an explicit and provocative way. Their behavior was beyond risqué, it was downright