The Lady's Second-Chance Suitor by Scott, Regina (best 7 inch ereader txt) 📕

But he could not deny St. Claire had a lordly air about himas he sauntered to the chair in front of Rob’s desk and deigned to sit. Headup, he regarded Rob as if inviting him to do the same. With a shake of hishead, Rob sat behind the desk.

“And what interest do you have in my pier?” he asked hisguest. “I understand you were formerly in His Majesty’s Navy. Are you awaitingreassignment?”

“Recovering from a wound,” he explained, making a show ofrubbing his left knee. “And I do a little sailing to reaccustom myself to lifeaboard ship. It’s not always convenient to bring my vessel, the Siren’s Call,into Grace Cove. I will admit that on occasion I have docked her below theLodge, when you and your charming sister were not in residence. I was hopingyou might be willing to extend me that courtesy in the coming days.”

So, he admitted to using the pier. Had that blue flash lastweek been from his ship? Had he placed Bascom on Rob’s staff to respond? Thenwhy pretend civility and ask?

“I suppose that could be arranged,” Rob said. “We have noship at the moment. When would you have need of the pier? The dark of the moon,perhaps?”

St. Claire smiled. “Perhaps. And I’ll be sure to leavesomething for my gallant host.”

“I prefer champagne,” Rob tried.

“That’s hard to come by,” St. Claire mused. “Us being at warwith France and all. But I’ll see what I can do.” He rose and inclined hishead. “Thank you for your time, my lord. I’ll see myself out.”

Rob nodded, and the fellow strolled from the room.

Leaning back in the chair, Rob gazed out at the rear yard,but instead of sunlight on the Channel, he saw men creeping across the grass bymoonlight, arms filled with illicit goods.

He needed to talk to Donner, tell him about St. Claire’srequest. And he needed to talk to Mr. Chalder, his night watchman, because hehad a feeling there would be far more activity in the next few days than anyonehad expected.

Even Rob, as it turned out.

Mercer arrived late that afternoon with more papersregarding the estate. Rob spent a long two hours reviewing and approving themovement of investments, the improvement of properties, and the leases ofvarious holdings.

“And I believe we had a request for the use of the pier onoccasion, my lord,” Mercer said as he filed the signed papers in his portfoliowhere he stood beside Rob like a schoolmaster.

How had the fellow learned so quickly? “From Captain St. Claire,”Rob agreed, straightening his shoulders with an audible crack after hunchingover the desk. “He approached me this morning. I approved.”

Mercer blinked. “The request did not come from Captain St.Claire, my lord. Another local fellow made the request, a fisherman, Ibelieve.”

Rob frowned up at him. His steward was ever the fastidiousone, from the crisp cut of his coat to the way he doled out his benightedpapers.

“You believe?” Rob challenged. “I would expect you to havelooked into the matter more fully, Mercer, so that you would know.”

He clutched his portfolio closer, look chiding Rob for hislack of faith. “I did, my lord. Captain Ruggins sailed out of Weymouth andbrought in loads of mackerel on a regular basis. He retired a few months agobut is finding himself ill at ease without a purpose each day.”

“Wouldn’t Grace Cove be more suitable as an anchorage for afishing vessel, then?” Rob questioned. “We hardly want wagons rumbling over therear yard with mackerel.”

Mercer grimaced. “I believe, that is, he relayed that hewill be taking his cargo along the shore to the west. Your pier is moreconducive to such an arrangement than the cove.”

“Very well,” Rob said. “He may use the pier during the day.Captain St. Claire may use it at night.”

“At night?” Mercer asked, shifting on his feet. “Why wouldthe captain be sailing at night?”

Rob regarded him, counting off the seconds until hissteward’s brows rose.

“Oh, Lord Peverell,” he protested, “I thought we agreed youwould not ally yourself with smugglers. Captain Ruggins is a far better option,and I am sure he’d appreciate night landings as well. One never knows when thefish will be biting, after all.”

Rob rather thought a good fisherman knew exactly where andwhen the fish would be biting. This Captain Ruggins began to sound even moresuspicious than St. Claire.

“Perhaps I should meet this captain,” he ventured. “See whatI think of the fellow.”

Mercer readjusted his portfolio, as if it were poking himunder the arm. “He would not presume to meet you, my lord. He is fully aware ofhis humble background, which is why he enlisted my aid to make his petition. Iwould be happy to send word to Captain St. Claire and explain that the use ofthe pier has already been taken.”

“Or,” Rob told him, “you could sendword to Captain Ruggins that I have decided to favor St. Claire with theconcession. And I begin to wonder if I should charge for the honor.”

Mercer puffed out a sigh as if much put out by the decision.“Captain Ruggins may be amenable to leaving you some of his catch to pay forthe use of the pier.”

Rob shrugged. “Captain St. Claire promised me champagne.”

Mercer glanced each way as if he thought anyone might belistening, then lowered his head and his voice. “I could request that CaptainRuggins do the same.”

Rob crossed his arms over his chest. “Out with it, Mercer.For all your posturing, you know that Captain Ruggins is a smuggler too.”

“I would not claim so, my lord,” Mercer rushed to assurehim. The sweat dotting his brow called him liar. “But there is a slightpossibility. Many a sailor along this coast has been tempted.”

Rob eyed him. “What did he promise if you secured the concession?”

Mercer snatched the last page off the desk. “Nothing of anyimport. A gentleman’s agreement only. And it matters not, as it appears I was too late. Now, I must be going, so I canreturn to London and file these papers.”

Rob nodded, and his man of affairs scurried from the room asif the Lord of the Smugglers were on his tail.

Which,