Page 39 of The Noble Smuggler

“Yes. But my motive was not what you and the other men there believed.” She looked at him—her uninjured eye wide and the other still painfully swollen—and for some absurd reason, he wished he still held her hand. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I infiltrated the gang to uncover the identity of the Midnight Master. I wish to bring an end to the unlawful smuggling and violence perpetrated by the Lamhurst Gang, and I believe the only way to accomplish that feat is to expose its leader.”

“You are not a smuggler?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“No, Miss Doyle, I am not.”

She smiled then. A genuine, full smile that transcended the disfigurement of her face. “I am glad.”

Jonas chuckled softly. “Then would you be willing to assist me by naming the Midnight Master? He came to the inn often enough, I’m sure.”

“He came whenever a large shipment arrived, but I never saw his face. He wore a black cape with a hood that overhung his forehead. Occasionally, I’d be in the passage when he’d slip in through the back door, but he kept his head lowered and never spoke. He’d go straight into my father’s office, and as soon as the door was closed behind him, I’d hear the bolt slide into place.”

Disappointment dragged at him like a ball and chain. “Do you remember anything that might help identify him? What of his height? Did you ever hear him speak behind the closed door?”

“He is taller than my father but not so tall as you. His cape hid his build too well for me to guess, but he used a black cane with a silver handle, and there were times when I thought perhaps it was more than merely an accessory.”

“You mean that it assisted him in his walking? He had a limp?” If this were true, it would narrow the field significantly.

“I wonder if perhaps he suffered from a lingering injury rather than a permanent condition,” she said, “because on some occasions, he seemed to need the support more than others.”

Jonas nodded. It was a logical assumption. “What of his voice? Did you ever hear it through the door?”

“I would hear the low mumble of voices when he was speaking to my father, but they spoke quietly, and all that could be ascertained from without was that the voices belonged to men.” She paused, and Jonas sensed that she was weighing her words.

“Anything you can share would be of value, Miss Doyle,” he said.

She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, but I noticed that if ever I passed my father’s office when the Midnight Master was there alone, I would often hear an odd snapping sound from within.”

“Can you describe it further?”

“Not really. I never did identify its source. It almost sounded like he was cracking nuts one after another, but there was never any evidence of that.”

There was nothing firm to go on, but every little clue would help narrow the possibilities, and perhaps once he and Alexander put their heads together, more insight would come.

“You have been most helpful, Miss Doyle,” he said. “And should you think of anything else whilst I am gone, you can get word to me through the duchess or my—or Lady Langton.” He barely caught the slip of his tongue in time. It would not do to reveal too much tonight. He wanted Miss Doyle to feel comfortable talking with him, and he had a sinking feeling that it would be far easier for her to share things with Reynard than with the Viscount Langton.

She looked toward the house. “Lady Langton has told me that I may remain here until I have secured a position.” She glanced back at him. “She and the duchess have treated me with great kindness.”

Jonas’s heart warmed toward his mother and sister. He was fortunate to have such good women in his life, even though the high standard they set made it virtually impossible for him to find a marriage partner who was their equal. “You will be safe here,” he said. He moved back toward the apple tree. “I will contact you when I have news.”

“Very well,” she said. “Godspeed.”

“Farewell, Miss Doyle.” He slipped through the small orchard, stopping when he knew she could no longer see him. Standing behind another apple tree, he listened to her footsteps travel down the gravel path toward the house. A door creaked open, then closed with a solid click. On soundless feet, he headed for the front of the house.

Chapter 14

Elizabeth watched from the hallway as Lady Langton slowly walked down the stairs toward her. With one hand, the viscountess held fast to the banister; with the other, she leaned upon her daughter, the Duchess of Kelbrook. The duchess held a walking cane in her free hand, and when the two ladies reached the ground floor, she waited until her mother was steady, then passed it to her. Elizabeth had not realized how badly the viscountess’s eyesight affected her mobility.

“Good morning, Miss Doyle,” the duchess said brightly, even though worry creased her brow. “It appears that you are ready for your outing to the stables.”

“Good morning, Your Grace, my lady,” Elizabeth said, bobbing a curtsy to them both. “I am looking forward to our short excursion.”

Elizabeth was wearing her freshly laundered, old blue gown, her bonnet, and her mother’s shawl. She was not sure whether the morning was cool enough to warrant the shawl, but when she’d met Reynard in the rose garden the night before, she’d been glad of the covering.

She’d returned to her room last night kindling a warm glow of gladness in her heart. Reynard was willing to go to London on her behalf, and he was not a hardened smuggler. She had yet to determine which of those things made her most happy, but she’d awoken this morning determined to do all she could to be of service to Lady Langton while she awaited Reynard’s return.

“Would you like to take my arm, my lady?” Elizabeth asked, stepping closer.

“Thank you,” the viscountess said. “That would be most helpful.”