The Earl's Temptation Read online

  ***

  Alex let out a cry of utter frustration, and ignoring the startled gazes of the people going about their daily business, he leaned back against the wall of the harbour master's office in utter misery. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, he was bone tired and out of his mind with worry. He'd arrived at the Red Lion close to ten the next morning and after a hair raising night ride. He thanked God there had at least been a bright moon and a clear night or he knew not what he would have done. On arrival it was confirmed that a single woman had indeed arrived on the mail coach, bound for Plymouth. Further than that no other information could be had as there had been such a crush of people, no one had time or interest to survey the goings on of a single customer.

  But now on reaching Plymouth late that same afternoon, he was told that Céleste hadn't rejoined the mail coach at all. So now he had a dilemma. Her intention was clear enough, she was returning to France. But why then hadn't she continued her journey? Was this a deliberate step to hide her tracks or had something befallen her? His heart constricted at the idea. Please God, please let her be alright, please let me find her. He had repeated the heartfelt prayer over and over from the moment he had first read those heart wrenching words she had left for him. Oh dear Lord, why hadn't he told her that he loved her? Why hadn't he made his feelings plain?

  Scrubbing his hands over his face he tried to stay focused. He was beyond tired, his eyes burning for sleep, his body sore and aching from so many hours in the saddle but he simply couldn't stop. He had to find her. At each stage of the journey he had sent word back to the family to inform them of his progress as well as leaving information at the inn in Shaftesbury and with the harbour master in case Lawrence was following his trail. He hoped that even now, Lawrence and whatever men he'd been able to gather were following close behind him for they clearly needed to widen their search. And so it was with a heavy heart that Alex remounted his horse and retraced his steps, back to The Red Lion.

  Chapter 32

  "Wherein a light is found in the most profound darkness."

  August 1816. Tregothnan

  "He's back!"

  Henri looked up with a start as Lawrence flew into the room.

  "Oh thank God!" Henri exclaimed, putting baby Elizabeth down to toddle unevenly around the room to her nurse maid as she ran to her husband and grasped at his arm. "Is she ...?"

  Lawrence shook his head. "No, it appears not. One of the stable lads just ran round to tell me he's on his way up to the house but ... He's alone."

  "Oh, Lawrence!" Henri put her hand to her mouth and blinked away tears. Her heart ached for her brother in law who had been living in the darkest depths of hell ever since Céleste had vanished from his life. Consumed with grief and guilt he would speak to no one and refused to be occupied with anything else but his determination to get Céleste back.

  In his absence Lawrence had taken control of both his smuggling interests and the more legitimate business of running a vast estate such as Tregothnan. On his brief visits home it was all they could do to force him to eat and sleep a little before he left once more. Poor, poor Alex. "But it's been over five months now," she said, her voice trembling.

  "I know," Lawrence said, pulling her into an embrace. "I know. But we both know Céleste is a resourceful girl and she grew up in such harsh circumstances. She's no softly bred pea-goose and she had some money, she'll be alright. I'm sure of it."

  Henri looked up at him, and knew her eyes were full of the nightmares they'd all endured. Of all the terrible fates that could have befallen such a beautiful young woman, all alone in the world. The aunts were beside themselves, and had retreated back to Hertfordshire to await news as the family battled to hide the scandal by saying that Céleste had returned to France to seek out her lost family.

  There had been no warm weather as the months passed, with frosts so late in the year, and so severe that people were calling it the year with no summer. It seemed as though Céleste leaving them had taken all the warmth and joy from their lives.

  They both ran out into the entrance hall at the sound of the front door opening and Alex walked in.

  Henri gasped as she took in the sight of him. His face was taut with worry and a thick black beard proved that it had been many days since he had seen a razor. Covered head to foot in mud and bringing with him the salt tang of the sea he looked indeed as though he had voyaged to hell and back.

  He shrugged off his great coat while Henri shouted for a hot meal to be provided at once and they ushered him in front of the nearest fire and sat him down. Henri dropped to her knees and helped him pull off his filthy boots, caring nothing for the mud on her hands as Lawrence filled a glass with brandy and placed it firmly in his brother’s hands.

  Once he had taken a moment to drink and catch his breath they sat, waiting with horrified anticipation but not daring to force him to speak. In the end in was Lawrence who broke the silence.

  "Did you find anything, Alex? Any sign?"

  Alex shook his head and Henri felt a shaft of pain in her heart so severe she was obliged to seek Lawrence's hand for comfort.

  "Nothing," Alex said, his voice ragged and rough, as though he'd forgotten how to use it. "No sign. Nothing." He ran a filthy hand through his hair which was far too long and completely dishevelled. "I went to Roscoff. Tore the damn town apart. The whore house is gone, boarded up and everyone vanished, though I did find Mimi. He'd not seen her, though he damn near killed me for letting her get away." He shook his head, his face utterly bereft. "I had half a mind to let him. If I thought I would never see her again ..." He stopped, his throat working as he looked away and stared into the fire.

  Lawrence squeezed Henri's hand as she began to sob quietly.

  "What then?" Lawrence asked, his voice soft.

  "Then I went back to Allaire, checking at places along the route we took before. I had some idea that maybe she'd go to her family's old home, but there was nothing. No one had seen her. So I returned to Roscoff again with no more luck than the first time. Mimi wouldn't speak to me at all. I went back to Portsmouth, retraced my steps to The Red Lion, and stopped at every inn and boarding house on the way, I went from there to Weymouth but there's no record of her crossing on the packet boat.

  I've been back to London, I've followed the mail route again and stopped at each possible place she could have alighted. I've asked everyone I could think of, been everywhere they might have seen her, and ... nothing." He rubbed his eyes and gestured for Lawrence to refill his glass. "And so I came back here, hoping ... maybe ..."

  He met Henri' eyes and she shook her head. "Nothing, Alex, I'm so dreadfully sorry. Not a word."

  Alex nodded and got to his feet. "I need to sleep. I have an early start in the morning."

  "Oh but, Alex, no!" Henri objected, getting up and walking after him, tugging at his arm. "You must eat something first and I insist you stay here, at least a day or two. My God, you're exhausted."

  Lawrence nodded, putting his arm around his wife. "Henri's right, Alex. You'll gain nothing by making yourself ill. At least stay a couple of nights to catch your breath."

  But Alex just shook his head. "Instruct the stables to have my horse ready for me. Goodnight."

  The next morning Alex was up early as he'd said and it was all they could do to force him to sit still and eat something before he went out again. Slightly cleaner but still unshaven, Lawrence reflected that he looked far more the pirate than he had ever done. He watched as his brother made his way through a thick steak as fast as he might, with the air of someone doing an unwanted chore.

  They looked up as the butler, Pawly, entered the room with a silver tray bearing his lordship's correspondence.

  "This has just arrived for you, my Lord," the old man said, as Alex took it up from the tray with a frown, breaking the seal.

  He scanned the contents of the letter and sprang to his feet.

  "What?" Henri asked in alarm. "What is it?"

  "It's from the solicitor at
Truro. He says he has been sent money to the amount of five hundred pounds by a person who wishes to remain anonymous in repayment of a debt.

  "Céleste!" Henri cried, jumping to her feet and running to Alex's side to crane her neck and look at the letter. "Oh!" she said, clutching at his arm. "She's alright, she must be if she's returning the money to you. Oh thank God."

  Both men were quiet and Henri frowned, looking at her husband in consternation.

  "But how did she lay her hands on that kind of money?" Lawrence asked quietly.

  Henri paled and sat down again hurriedly as Alex glowered at his brother and strode from the room. Lawrence leapt to his feet and ran after him.

  "Where are you going?" he demanded as Alex snatched up his great coat and headed for the door.

  "To see the solicitor and find out about my anonymous benefactor," Alex growled and slammed the door behind him.

  ***

  The small but well-appointed offices of Egerton and Witham were set upon their ears by Alex's early morning arrival. The unhappy Mr Witham whose partner was sadly elsewhere looked up, apparently believing at first glance that there was a madman in his midst, intent on murdering him while going about his lawful business. It was at this point that the worthy Witham recognised at last the Earl of Falmouth.

  "Have you lost your mind, my Lord Falmouth?" the poor man demanded.

  Alex did nothing to dispel the man's terror at his state of mind, and in fact went out of his way to encourage it as he raised a pistol and levelled it at Mr Witham, the signatory of this morning's correspondence. He next demanded in a level voice, that Mr Witham produce all the information he had on the person who had been so kind as to forward such a sum of money to him.

  A thin-faced man, with a back bowed like a whippet, Mr Witham cried like a maid and thrust the letter into Alex's hand whilst pleading for mercy. At this point Alex left the building, informing him as he went that he would pay Mr Witham handsomely for his inconvenience but that if a word of this got about he'd return and bring his pistol with him.

  Alex stood in the street and stared at the letter once again, leaning upon his horse and finding that his hands were not quite as steady as they ought to be. He drank in the sight of the familiar hand which made his heart constrict and tears gather in his eyes. At last. Oh thank God, at last.

  He pressed the letter to his lips and convinced himself that he could smell the scent of her upon the page. Returning his gaze once more to the sight of his beloved girl's handwriting he looked at the address on the correspondence, Pleumeur Bodou, Roscoff. How she had evaded him he could not understand, but at last he had a glimmer of hope that perhaps his nightmare was at an end. He would go to the address and throw himself upon her mercy, and pray to God she would find it in her heart to forgive him.

  ***

  By late the next morning he was at Roscoff, having waited furiously for the tide and submitting with very bad grace to Henri and his valet's pleas to shave and make himself presentable. In the end he submitted, if for no other reason that he doubted his ability to persuade Céleste back into his arms after everything she had been through. And so he shaved and dressed with care, and took the precaution of bringing everything he could think of for Céleste's own comfort and any eventuality.

  The journey was interminable though the winds were kind and they made excellent time, but his patience was at breaking point as his head was full of the bad dreams that had plagued him since that disastrous night. He had tormented himself considering all and any of the possible ills that could have befallen her, and now, when he was so close, he was almost quaking with a mixture of joy, anticipation and terror of what he might find. For if any had hurt his sweet girl, by the time he was done with them they would beg for the fate that he had delivered to Monsieur Pelletier and consider themselves fortunate to get it.

  Hiring a chaise close to the harbour he was taken to Pleumeur Bodou, and on further direction was forwarded to a pretty stone house with far reaching views over the sea.

  He approached on foot with his heart beating in his chest so hard he felt sick with anticipation and saw the figure of a woman playing with a child in the garden beside the house. Though he knew this was not Céleste, he hastened his step, eager to discover news of her.

  "Bonjour Madame," he said, trying to contain his impatience as he greeted her and drew upon his best French. "Please forgive me the intrusion, but I was wondering if you might be able to help me. I'm looking for someone."

  The woman, who had dark hair and a fierce expression, looked him over. Her brown eyes seemed far older than her face might allow and she seemed wary but resigned.

  "Oui, I know who you are," she replied, sneering at him, her French accent far coarser that Céleste's more refined tone. "She's not here. So if you've come to upset her you can turn around and walk away again. We don't need men here. We don't want any of you. Devils every one, you are!" She spat on the ground at his feet with contemptuous look that he felt ill placed to object to.

  "Madame," he said, praying she could see the contrition in his eyes. "I can't tell you that your opinion of me is totally misplaced, but please believe me when I tell you I would never, ever, intentionally hurt Céleste. And though I know I did and most grievously, I beg you to believe me that it was unintentional and not entirely of my doing. Please, I beg of you. Just tell me where I might find her, or when she'll be back. If she wants none of me I swear to God I'll leave and you'll never see me again. But I must see her, at least for a moment."

  The woman seemed struck by the impassioned nature of his speech and bent down to pick up a little girl not much older than his niece who was pulling at her skirts. She kissed the babe, settling her on the generous curve of her hip and looked at him long and hard.

  "D'accord," she said, her voice begrudging. "But if you upset her I'll send Mimi after you and he'll pay you back for every tear."

  "Mimi is here?" he said, smiling as his heart lightened. He had found her. She was really here.

  "Oui," the woman said with a sneer. "The only men welcome here are those who've lost their minds."

  Alex laughed softly and nodded. "Well, Madame, I assure you that after the past months that description fits me only too well."

  She smiled at that and nodded. "Alors, my Lord, you'll find her down by the beach. Tell her Belle sent you and that Mimi is standing ready to tear you limb from limb if required."

  Alex bowed to her, acknowledging her words for the very real threat they were, before turning and making with all haste to the beach.

  Chapter 33

  "Wherein our two lovers make many confessions."

  Céleste sat and stared out at the sea as she often did now. She buried her fingers in the sand feeling the surface warm from the sun, and the damp sand beneath far, far colder to the touch. Like she was, she thought. Her skin was warm and she seemed to live, but everything inside her was cold and shrivelled in on itself, crouching protectively around the pain in her heart.

  She sighed and squinted out across the glittering sea. Though September was drawing on and the weather not so warm as it was, on a fine day she fancied she could see the coast of Cornwall and it made her feel in some small way closer to Alex. She pulled her cloak around herself and closed her eyes and allowed herself to remember him. To remember those cold grey eyes that would fill with warmth when he looked at her, the sound of his laughter when she had said something he found amusing, the feel of his lips on hers that one night when she had believed her dreams had come true. She blinked and scolded herself.

  She had done enough crying. Crying and wishing didn't change anything, no matter how badly you wanted it to. She had been fortunate, she knew that, not least in her chance meeting with Jacky and Davy. They had become firm friends and their family had taken her in as one of their own. It was only misfortune that had seen them caught in a downpour on the journey to Jersey. More than five miserable weeks she had spent on the island there, feverish and more ill than she'd ever been in he
r life, and so weak in the aftermath that it had taken some time to recover. But Jacky had left her in the care of a distant cousin who couldn't have been kinder, and on coming to Roscoff he and Davy had become regular visitors, much to Belle's disgust, checking that everyone was alright and well provided for.

  Yes, she had indeed been fortunate, for although life had dealt her some cruel blows in her short life, it had also put her in the way of people who had proved to be good and kind and honest, and for that she was grateful. Nonetheless Alex's dear face came to mind and she put her head in her hands and prayed for the pain to pass, prayed for the day when she could remember him simply with fondness and a sense of regret, rather than the turn of a knife in her heart when she thought about everything she'd lost.

  ***

  When Alex crested the rise that led to the beach and looked across the sand his heart twisted in his chest and he was struck with a barrage of emotions that almost forced him to his knees. She was here, she was truly here! He had to stand for a moment to collect himself and simply drink in the sight of her. With her cloak pulled tight around her and her hair lose and flying around her face in the sea breeze, she looked both very young and terribly fragile and he gave his promise once more to God that whatever it was she wanted, even if it was no longer him, he would do everything in his power and more to ensure she was safe and happy and well for the rest of her days. And if by some miracle she still wanted him, he would spend the rest of his life ensuring that she found no cause to regret it.

  He covered the space between them, his footfalls soft on the damp sand, the sound of his approach whipped away by the breeze, smothered by the soft wash of the waves on the shore and the gulls crying overhead. And so it was that when he said her name, she started and looked around in surprise.

  She looked up at him, those wide blue eyes unblinking and astonished.

  "A-Alex?"