The Smuggler and the Society Bride Read Free

other, if he’s as self-righteous as you’ve described him.’ Kessel clapped a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. ‘Though there’s naught to that. Brothers often fight—look at me and Johnnie! Especially when one holds the whip hand over the other. Did you never get on?’
    For an instant, Gabe ran though his mind the whole history of his dealings with the older brother who, for as long as Gabe could remember, had criticized, tattled about or disapproved of everything he did or said. ‘No,’ he replied shortly.
    â€˜Best that you move on, then,’ Dickin said. A mischievous light glowed in his eyes and he laughed. ‘Wouldn’t that fancy family of yours disown you forever if they found out exactly how you’ve been helping your old Army friend?’
    Gabe pictured the horror that would doubtless come over his brother’s austere features, were the punctilious Sir Nigel Hawksworth ever to discover the occupation his scapegrace younger brother was pursuing in Cornwall. After casting Gabe off permanently, he’d probably set the nearest King’s agents after him.
    Shaking off the reflection, Gabe said, ‘Let us speak of pleasanter things. Who was the charming Aphrodite who launched herself into the water? I’ve not seen her before. After her display of sympathy for the revenuer, I assume she must not be from Cornwall.’
    â€˜She isn’t,’ Dickin confirmed. ‘Don’t recall the name, but ’tis not Af-ro-dye—or whatever you said. My sister Tamsyn,who’s a maid up at Foxeden Manor, says she’s staying there with old Miss Foxe. Some relation or other. I’ve seen her on the cliff walk a time or two.’
    Realizing a dame-schooled seaman-turned-soldier probably wouldn’t be acquainted with Greek mythology, Gabe didn’t pursue the allusion. For the first time, he felt a niggle of sympathy for the humourless cleric Papa had employed to try to beat into his mostly unappreciative younger son the rudiments of a gentleman’s education.
    His rule-bound tutor provided just one example of the rigid parental discipline that had sent him fleeing into the Army at the first opportunity. How would he have escaped Papa’s heavy hand, Gabe mused, if Bonaparte’s desire for glory hadn’t pushed his nation into a war in which it was every Englishman’s patriotic duty to contribute a son to the regiments? Especially a rapscallion younger son no tutor had ever managed to break to bridle.
    Shaking his mind back to the present, he repeated, ‘Some relation of Miss Foxe. Is she staying long, do you know?’
    Dickin raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll see if Tamsyn can find out. So, ’tis not enough you’ve all the maids hereabouts sighing over you—and barmaids at the Gull fighting each other to warm your bed. You must hunt fresh game?’
    Gabe shrugged. ‘What can one do when he is young, daring, handsome—’ Breaking off with a chuckle, he ducked Dickin’s punch.
    â€˜You’ll soon catch your death of a chill if you don’t get your handsome self into some dry clothes,’ Dickin retorted. ‘I’d as soon not lose my new skipper—or my closest Army comrade—just yet. Off with you, while I help the boys move the cargo inland. I’ll see what Tamsyn can turn up about the lady.’
    Gabe bowed with a flourish. ‘I’d be most appreciative.’
    â€˜Aye, well, see that you show me how much on your next run. We’ll meet at the inn later, as usual.’
    Clapping Gabe on the back, his friend trotted off. Gabe made his way up the cliff walk, pausing to watch as the well-organized team of farmers, sailors and townsmen quickly freed the tubs from their temporary moorings, floated them to shore, then hefted them onto carts to be pushed and dragged up the slope to the waiting wagons. While one or two of the men nodded an acknowledgment, most ignored