Six Degrees of Scandal (17 page)

Pike tipped his head in Jamie's direction. “You're hardly alone. He's quite a strapping lad, if you don't mind my saying so.”

She turned to look at Jamie. His steady hazel gaze met hers, and this time she knew he was encouraging her. “If not for him I would never have made it this far,” she said honestly. “But because he's helped me, he's in as much danger as I am.” She faced Mr. Pike again. “I don't want to give the treasure to the dragon, I want to return it to its rightful owner, where the dragon won't be able to touch it. But I'd sooner throw it into the ocean than let that horrible man have it.”

A broad grin creased his face. “A fighting lass! I like a woman with a strong heart—and a vengeful one, too. It keeps a man on his toes.” He winked at Jamie. “Very like my Mary, you are, if you don't mind my saying so. She could outface an entire regiment of His Majesty's forces and drive them back over the dunes with their heads hung in shame.” He slapped one hand on the table. “Will you come along for a glass of elderberry wine, Mrs. Townsend?”

Olivia let out her breath, ready to give up and decline. As she opened her mouth to speak, though, she caught the way Mr. Pike's eyes twinkled—not with mere humor but with a wild thrill of delight, as if he found her a worthy adversary.

Or a kindred spirit.

T
wo things flashed through her mind in the time it took to draw breath. First, that Mr. Pike definitely knew more than he had let on so far, and quite possibly a great deal more than she did. And second, that he was going to help her. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she would have bet her last borrowed shilling on it. He was simply enjoying being chased and beseeched.

So instead of a polite refusal, she said, “Thank you, sir. That's very kind. We'd be delighted.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “I knew you was a witty one!
We
, indeed.” He rose to his feet and offered her his hand. “I was ready to offer you my own cloak, for it's a cold walk along the cliffs, but I fancy he's got there afore me, eh?” Again he tipped his head toward Jamie.

Olivia reached for her bonnet. “I have my own cloak, Mr. Pike.” Then she ruined her regal statement by catching Jamie's eye as she wound his muffler around her neck. “But he got there before anyone.”

The old man laughed again and went to collect his own cloak and hat, waving one hand at his
mates still clustered around the fire. Jamie leaned close to her as he dropped several coins on the table for their drinks. “You'll make me blush.”

She looked into his face as she tied her bonnet ribbons snugly beneath her chin. “I told you long ago.” There had never been another man who tempted her, nor touched her heart. He was the only one she had ever told
I love you
.

He tilted a little nearer. “Not from surprise,” he whispered. “From joy, Livie. I'll never tire of hearing it.” He darted a smoldering glance at her and Olivia swayed toward him. “It will help me bear it a little better when you flirt with our new friend.”

“Flirt?” She stopped in astonishment. “Why?”

“I think it would do a world of good.”

She put her hand on his arm as they turned toward the door. “Jamie . . . do you think he knows something and means to help us?”

His gaze went back to the old man, who was bundling himself up by the fire. “I rather believe he does,” Jamie murmured. He glanced at her. “Either that, or he's leading us out where he can dispose of me and woo you in earnest.”

Olivia blinked, then barely stifled her nervous laugh. “No!”

“I wouldn't put it past him.” Jamie touched the small of her back as he guided her out of the smoky, warm pub. “He's a spry old chap and clearly appreciates a beautiful woman with some spirit and courage.”

She blushed as Mr. Pike gave her a gleeful grin. “Don't be silly,” she whispered to Jamie.

He only smiled.

The wind bit into them with a vengeance as
they stepped into the cobbled lane outside. A long stone wall ran down the road toward the cliffs overlooking the water, and Mr. Pike led them that way. Olivia's eyes watered as the cold gale blew in her face, and she ducked her head.

“It be right airy out tonight,” Mr. Pike remarked. He threw the end of his cloak over one shoulder, but seemed otherwise unmoved by the frigid temperatures. “The darkest nights always are in Thanet.”

Unconsciously Olivia glanced at the sky, where a faint sliver of moon shone above them. The heavens were thick with stars, which looked like glints of ice crackling over the obsidian sky. “You don't seem chilled by it,” she said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. Jamie, shoulders hunched, walked beside her. Olivia fancied he angled his body to blunt some of the wind's force from her, which warmed her heart if not the rest of her.

“Gracious heart alive, no,” their guide replied. “Born and raised in the sea air. It makes the blood run hotter.” She barely caught the suggestive look he gave her.

“And the tongue more glib,” she retorted.

He nodded in appreciation. “Another very useful thing to have on the coast.”

She smiled in spite of herself. He was a cagy one. He'd got her whole story—even her real name—out of her and told her nothing in return. Yet somehow she'd willingly walked out of the pub into the night with him. Was this madness? It must be that or desperation, she thought; even Jamie must be running out of ideas to pursue. “Is it a long walk?”

“A tidy few steps.” He crooked his arm in invitation. “Can I offer a lady a strong arm? It can be glincey out with the ice.”

Olivia hesitated, then put her hand on his cuff. Mr. Pike immediately tugged her closer to his side, although not indecently so. If it had been Jamie, she wouldn't have minded a bit.

“It's been a long while since I escorted a beautiful woman down this path,” Pike said. “Ah, I miss it. You're a fortunate fellow, young man,” he said without looking at Jamie.

“I feel my good fortune every day,” was his reply.

Olivia thought of Jamie's suggestion that she flirt, and decided to try it. “And I feel my good fortune this very moment, as two escorts offer quite a bulwark against the wind.”

Pike laughed. “Wait until you've had a nip of elderberry wine! It will take the chill right off.”

They turned down a narrower lane, away from the direction of the Three Sails. Behind them the village was a cluster of stone and thatch houses, and before them the plain swept out toward the water, dotted with fishing cottages, their lit windows as bright as the stars above. When the wind calmed for a moment, she could hear the distant rumble of surf breaking on the beach.

Thankfully it wasn't long before Mr. Pike stopped in front of a gate in the low stone wall. He swung it open and led Olivia through, then waited to close it behind Jamie. A sturdy stone house stood within the walls, with a squat round tower on one end and a steeply sloped roof. Mr. Pike opened the door and went about lighting the lamps.

“Give it a firm push to close out the draft,” he told Jamie, still standing in the doorway. “Come in, come in! I'll stir up the fire.” He disappeared into the next room.

Olivia untied her cloak as Jamie gave the door an appraising look before carefully closing it.
Always keeping an eye on the surroundings
, she thought, then shoved the thought from her mind. She was going to trust her instinct this time. Too often she had ignored it, and told herself she was being silly to suspect other men of ignoble motives. A man of Clary's rank wouldn't stoop to harassing her. Henry wouldn't have committed criminal acts. The solicitors Mr. Brewster and Mr. Armand would tell her the truth.

She suspected Mr. Pike was also hiding something, but she thought it might work in her favor this time. It had popped into her head as they walked that their host was a smuggler himself, or had been. Raised near the coast, able to talk to strangers and draw them out without revealing himself, unruffled by her tale of stolen treasure and dragons. Instead of being alarmed or dismissive, he'd been interested.

Either way, she had nothing to lose at this point. She hung up her cloak and went with Jamie into the parlor.

Mr. Pike rose from stirring the fire as they entered, the poker in his hand. The coals in the grate were crackling back to life. He gestured at a portrait above the fireplace, of a fair-haired young woman with a direct gaze and a firm mouth. She wore the clothing of several decades ago. “My Mary,” he said proudly. “Such a
fetching lass she was. And a keen shot with the pistol, too.”

“I envy her,” murmured Olivia. Being a crack shot would have come in handy when Lord Clary grew threatening.

Pike cut a glance her way. “Do you? Every woman ought to know how to handle a gun. I'd be pleased to show you, if yon fellow hasn't done the job properly.”

Jamie cleared his throat. Olivia smiled, just catching the amused twinkle in his eye. “Mr. Pike, I think your Mary must have been quite a woman, to keep you in line.”

He gave a shout of laughter. “Said like a wife! Well, come sit by the fire. I'll fetch the wine, and then you can consider my offer about the gun.” He winked and went out of the room.

Olivia whirled on Jamie. “He's not about to come back with a gun and shoot us, is he?”

Jamie smiled, though his eyes were watchfully pinned to the door. “I'm not worried about that.” He ran one hand down his greatcoat, over the pocket, displaying the lines of a pistol. “I only hope he's not planning to keep us here all night before he gets around to telling us something useful.”

She edged closer, glancing at the doorway. “I have an idea he might have been a smuggler.”

“I wouldn't be surprised,” he murmured as Mr. Pike came back into the room with a tray holding a bottle and three glasses.

“To take the chill from your bones,” Mr. Pike said, pouring a glass and offering it to Olivia.

A cautious sip revealed the elderberry wine to be tart and rich. “Delicious,” she said.

He beamed. “My own vintage. The trick is to blend in a bit of good claret wine.”

She took another sip. “I never would have guessed.”

Mr. Pike leaned forward. “It must be a secret between us, Mrs. Townsend. Amos Harding has been trying for years to sniff out my method. His elderberry wine is weak and thin in comparison to this.”

Olivia raised her brows as she smiled. “A secret! I'm honored to be so trusted.”

“I expect one glimpse of your face could make any fellow confess his darkest sin.” He glanced at Jamie. “Am I right, my good man?”

“It could indeed,” he quietly confirmed.

“But it troubles me greatly that you're asking after local rogues and scoundrels,” Pike went on. He leaned back in his chair and fixed an admonitory look on her. “'Tain't safe to ask such questions, Mrs. Townsend. There's some who won't take it as gentlemanly as I do.”

Carefully she set her glass on the table beside her chair. “I know,” she replied. “But I have no choice.”

“Even worse, you don't know what exactly you're asking after. It might tempt certain untrustworthy folk to tell tales, hoping to take advantage. Ask for a reward when they've nothing to give, you understand.”

“It's a risk I have to take.” She turned her most open and artless gaze on him. “But I think you won't lie to me—just as I think you know something that could help me.”

He smiled, neither affirming nor denying it.
“Why would you think an old fool like me would know anything useful?”

Olivia didn't hesitate. “Because I don't think you're any sort of fool at all. I suspect you knew of my husband's activities, even if not by his name. I wouldn't be surprised if you know a bit about everything that goes on around here.” She glanced at the portrait, where the fair Mary's gaze seemed fierce and proud. “No woman like that would suffer a fool for her husband. I daresay she'd want the most daring and intrepid man in Broadstairs.”

Pike regarded her in silence for a long minute, still smiling in a kindly, slightly regretful way. “There's some as would be offended by that. It's no secret Broadstairs held a number of free traders in years past, some mighty dangerous men among them.”

“And you said she wasn't afraid of a whole regiment of soldiers,” Olivia countered.

Pike inclined his head. “That she wasn't.”

“I hope she was just as fierce in the face of evil. I hope she wouldn't want another woman to be harassed and assaulted by any man, let alone one as cruel as the man pursuing me. I hope she would want to thwart him in any way she could.”

Pike was motionless. “That she would,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“Then I believe she would help me. I would, if another woman begged my aid. And I would expect no less of a husband who loved me.” Olivia waited, holding her breath and not daring to look away from him. There was an inscrutable expression on Mr. Pike's face, as if he were doing some
very hard thinking.
Please
, she silently begged.
Please don't be another dead end . . .

“Well. Perhaps.” Pike slapped his knee, making her jump. “'Tis late, and you must be tired, Mrs. Townsend. Was the wine to your liking?”

“I—yes,” she managed to say. “Very much.”

“Excellent!” His broad grin was back. “Perhaps you'll stop by tomorrow for a cup of tea?”

Olivia stared at him, perplexed and dismayed. “That would be lovely,” said Jamie beside her, giving her foot a subtle nudge. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure, entirely my pleasure!” He beamed as Olivia slowly rose to her feet, unsure what had happened, and he kept beaming as they went out and collected their cloaks. “Until tomorrow,” he said, taking Olivia's hand and raising it for an extravagant kiss. “But you'll want to hire a better carriage, young man. It will be another raw day, and beauty such as this shouldn't be exposed to the wind for long.” He still held her hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Pike,” she murmured. He hadn't told her a single helpful thing, but he
had
invited them back. That must mean something—mustn't it? If only she knew what.

She waited until she and Jamie were well away from his door before she asked. “Do you still believe he will help us?”

He pulled his collar higher. “I do.”

“How?” she asked anxiously.

“That, I do not know.” He pressed her hand, curled snugly around his arm. “But whatever he does, it will all be thanks to you. You were magnificent, Livie.”

She sighed, too tense even to appreciate the
compliment. “It will be worth nothing if he doesn't have anything of import to tell us.”

“He told us a great deal,” Jamie replied. “He married a fierce woman who could—and may have—faced down soldiers, which a smuggler's wife might do. He likes you, perhaps a little too much. He plays the part of an old fool but he isn't one. Not once did he question the charges of smuggling, or deny he knew anything about it. It looked for all the world as though he was testing you, to see if you truly know something or are merely asking questions. It's been almost two years since Henry died, after all, and presumably no one's been asking about those activities since. I would be cautious, too, if someone suddenly turned up asking about it.”