Chapter 2
Early September 1815
Treganon House, Cornwall, England
“What are you doing here?”
The question was the same as the one Maxim had put to Stonewell almost a week ago. The same week it had taken for him to travel to Cornwall and for all the bruises and cuts to heal from their boxing match. But this time, the question was spoken contemptuously by the beautiful young woman who had just entered and now looked across the elegantly appointed green salon at him with such haughty disdain.
A few inches over five feet tall, she wore her reddish brown hair fashionably arranged at her crown, with loose tendrils at her temples and nape. Her complexion was creamily smooth. Her clear green eyes met his gaze unflinchingly, with high cheekbones either side of a small, retroussé nose, her full lips a perfect bow above a pointed and determined chin. She wore a fashionable day gown of the same emerald green as her eyes, the low neckline revealing the generous swell of her breasts. Maxim believed he could also smell lilies and lemons, the same perfume she had favored six years ago.
The same French perfume that she should not have been able to purchase since trade between England and France had not yet been resumed.
She was also a woman Maxim had every reason to mistrust and dislike. Emotions she made no secret she reciprocated in regard to himself.
Nevertheless, he answered her with his usual calm politeness. “I believe Treganon House is still my home.”
“One of them,” the lady acknowledged scornfully. “And one you have not seen fit to visit for many years.”
It was true Maxim had avoided this estate in Cornwall for the past five years, preferring to remain at the principal Carlton estate in Derbyshire when not away fighting the French or staying at Carlton Hall in London.
It was also a fact the years of his absence coincided with the amount of time this woman, Lady Heather Smythe, now Dowager Countess of Carlton, had been married to his father.
Maxim gave an abrupt inclination of his head. “I have decided it is time I corrected that omission.”
“Why?”
Maxim allowed very little to get under his skin enough to cause him annoyance. But this woman… This woman could do it without even trying, and he believed she was without a doubt currently trying to annoy him. Very much so. “I have a younger brother who, as I am unmarried, also happens to be my heir. It is time I made his acquaintance.”
Green eyes widened incredulously. “You could have met Ralph any number of times these past five years. Or even at your father’s funeral. If you had chosen to attend.”
Maxim’s eyes narrowed at the obvious reproof. “I was otherwise occupied at the time.”
Heather snorted. “That would seem to be a usual occurrence as far as you are concerned. Leastwise,” she continued firmly as Maxim would have spoken, “you have not seen Ralph since he was a newborn baby. He obviously does not remember that meeting and consequently does not know you.”
He nodded tersely. “Then it is time he did.”
“Ralph left yesterday on a visit with my parents.” Heather felt satisfaction in being able to inform Maxim of that fact.
How dare he simply arrive here without so much as sending word ahead of his visit?
He dared because he was arrogance personified. Maxim always did exactly as he pleased, she acknowledged inwardly. Whenever he pleased, and to hell with the inconvenience it might cause other people or what it might cause her.
“Then I will wait here until he returns.”
Heather’s irritation deepened. “We have not settled on a date as yet for when that will be.”
Carlton shrugged. “I have no pressing engagements that require my presence in London or anywhere else.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed as she continued to stare at the man, who, despite being ten years senior to her age of five and twenty, was, in fact, her stepson, Maximillian Smythe, and the Earl of Carlton since the death of her husband, James, eighteen months ago.
Several inches over six feet tall, Maxim wore his dark-blond hair fashionably overlong. His eyes were a cold and icy gray in a harshly hewn face that could be handsome when he smiled, but the lack of laughter lines beside his eyes and mouth said that he rarely, if ever, did. Wide shoulders, muscular chest, narrow waist, and powerful thighs and legs were clothed in a fashionable blue superfine, gray waistcoat and pantaloons, with black Hessians molded perfectly to his tautly muscled calves.
This gentleman might not have visited Treganon House for many years, but Heather had certainly heard all the gossip about him when she and James attended the London Season together. Maxim was rarely in London during the Season, usually off fighting in one battle or another against Napoleon. But even so, his private life remained a closed book none in Society dared open. Unsurprising when he was known for being remote and cold, with a sharp edge to his tongue. Only when in the company of his seven closest friends, The Sinners, did he appear relaxed and at his ease. He and those other gentlemen were also very close friends with the Prince Regent.
As a friend of Prinny, a man known to disapprove of the smuggling that had long been rife in Cornwall, Maxim could not have arrived at a more inconvenient time. Not that Heather considered there would ever be a convenient time for Maxim to visit this Carlton family estate in Cornwall, where she and her young son had resided alone since the death of her husband.
But tonight was the beginning of a new moon; moreover, the clouds were low and heavy. It was a perfect night for the clandestine nocturnal activities that Cornwall had enjoyed for centuries and would no doubt continue to enjoy for many more years to come. Indeed, smuggling was recognized by the locals as a profitable way for them to earn a living. The Revenue men were far less enthusiastic and would arrest and send before the magistrate any smugglers they managed to capture.
For the five years before James’s death, Heather had appealed to her husband on behalf of those captured, usually with a positive result. James had insisted he was required to deport the occasional miscreant or be subject to investigation by the Crown. Since Heather’s father had taken over as magistrate here, none had been deported. Which might, Heather now realized, have caused some curiosity in London as to why they had not.
Heather’s immediate family had begun to enjoy the monetary benefits of smuggling during the last century when their tin mine had stopped producing. It had become more difficult this century, with the introduction of those Revenue men. But the remote coves and caves, like the ones beneath the rocky tor where Treganon House stood, were difficult to patrol and perfect for bringing ashore and storing illegal goods such as brandy, gin, tea, rum, and tobacco, ready for distribution when those Revenue men were occupied elsewhere.
Such a delivery was expected late tonight. Which was the reason Heather had sent Ralph to stay with her parents yesterday. Their home was ten miles along the coast, and her son would be safer with her parents when Heather was to be involved in receipt of the illegal shipment.
She arched red-brown brows. “So you intend for this to be a lengthy visit?”
Carlton shrugged broad shoulders. “Does it matter how long I remain here?”
Yes, it matters, damn it!
Not only was having Maxim here inconvenient to her and her family, but she also had no wish for him to spend more time with her son than necessary. Ralph was only recently showing signs of recovering from the loss of his Papa, whom he had loved very much. Maxim’s physical likeness to his father was sure to bring a return of the loss her son had felt for so many months.
On a personal level, Heather had no wish to spend so much as a second more in Maxim’s company than she needed to. His cold and arrogant manner said he was not the same warm and sensual man she had once known, even though his handsome appearance remained as alluring. Maxim had almost been the ruin of her family once. She did not intend for that to happen a second time.
Heather maintained what she hoped was a calm expression. “It is only that I had thought I might join Ralph tomorrow with the intention of also spending several weeks with my family.”
“In that case, I am surprised you did not go with him yesterday.”
Heather bit back her irritation. “His nursemaid accompanied him, and I had several things in need of my attention which delayed my own departure.”
“Indeed?” he drawled skeptically.
“Yes,” she snapped, having no intention, as his question obviously expected, of telling him what those things were.
Carlton’s mouth quirked with derision. “And how are your parents and two disreputable brothers?”
Heather took exception to the description, considering Maxim had been friends with those same two brothers during his youth, to the extent she knew he had even gone down to the cove with them a few times when ships foundered on the rocks, and the cargo washed ashore for the taking. No doubt this more arrogant and aristocratic Maxim, and now a close friend of the Prince Regent, preferred to forget the misdemeanors of his own youth.
“They are all well enough, thank you,” she answered him frostily.
He gave an inclination of his head. “It has been a long and tedious journey, so perhaps you would care to offer me refreshment while my bedchamber is being prepared?”
She bristled at his high-handed manner. “Coombe mentioned your instruction regarding the bedchamber when he came to inform me of your arrival.”
Maxim raised an arrogant brow. “Do you have a problem with my staying here?”
Heather had a problem with Maxim being here in Cornwall at all. At the same time, she accepted he was perfectly within his rights to expect to stay in what was, after all, his property. “Perhaps it would be for the best if I were to remove my own and Ralph’s things to the Dower House now that you have decided to make Treganon House one of your own homes.”
She had become complacent, Heather realized, as the years passed and no visit from Maxim occurred. She had grown accustomed to thinking of Treganon as her home and not his, even more so since she had been widowed. But she should have removed herself to the Dower House eighteen months ago, after her husband died, rather than find herself placed in the awkward position of having no choice but to move herself and Ralph now the new earl had decided to take up residence here.
“No need,” Carlton dismissed. “I doubt I will visit again, and the upheaval would not be good for Ralph.”
Which once again brought into question why Maxim was here at all. Heather did not for a moment believe it was solely to do with acquainting himself with her son. Maxim could have done that any number of times during the years she and James had spent six months in London for the Season before returning to Cornwall for the summer and early winter. He never had. Indeed, he and James had barely spoken to each other when they did chance to meet at some Society event or another on the rare occasions they all happened to be in London.
Could Maxim’s real reason for being here possibly have something to do with the smuggling in the area?
One thing Heather did know, Maxim’s visit to Cornwall had absolutely nothing to do with a wish to see her again. That ship had foundered on the rocks long ago and been smashed into many irretrievable pieces.
Did she, now that she was no longer James’s wife but his widow, wish to see Maxim again?
Absolutely not. He had been allowed to break her heart once. He would not do so again. It was a lesson she had learned through much pain and tears.
“Very well.” She gave a stiff nod. “I will go and see about providing you with tea while I check on the progress of the preparation of your rooms.”
Maxim waited until Heather had swept out of the room before releasing a deep breath that sounded more like a sigh. Seeing and speaking with her again, after so many years, had taken more of a toll on his emotions than he might have wished or hoped for.
Six years ago, Heather had been as wild and unpredictable as the Cornish coast. A beautiful young woman of nineteen summers, whose siren call he had been unable to resist.
Now, as Lady Heather Smythe, Dowager Countess of Carlton, and the widow of his own father, she wore the added maturity of motherhood and the newfound confidence of being a countess as an impenetrable shield.
A shield Maxim admitted he felt challenged to breach.
As he felt challenged to breach and conquer the woman beneath that shield?
Therein lay the danger, the temptation, he had been trying to avoid by not coming to Cornwall in the first place.
Now that he was here?
Heather was even more beautiful than he remembered. Even more desirable. He also doubted the wildness in her, which had once caused passion to blaze out of control between the two of them, had ever been fully extinguished.
“I trust your rooms are to your satisfaction?” Heather prompted politely once she and Maxim had finished eating dinner together in the small family dining room.
A tense and uncomfortable meal during which they had initially attempted, and ultimately failed, to make stilted conversation before both falling silent.
Until now, when Heather felt compelled to at least appear to be an attentive hostess.
“No,” Maxim answered her curtly.
It was totally unacceptable to Maxim that he had been given rooms at the back of the house overlooking the stables rather than the magnificent rocky coastline visible from all the rooms looking out from the front of the gray-stoned Treganon House.
He could see two possible reasons for that.
The first, it was not suitable for him to occupy the bedchamber and dressing room adjoining Heather’s, which would normally be the rooms of the earl.
Which he totally agreed with. Having Heather in the bedchamber adjoining his own would be far too much of a temptation.
Second, Heather had deliberately assigned him rooms at the back of the house so he would be unable to see or witness any nocturnal activities down in the rocky cove beneath Treganon House.
Which he understood but could not allow.
There was also a third reason for Heather’s obvious aversion to his visit, and that was she was indeed the traitor to the English Crown they were seeking. Treganon House was situated as conveniently for passing information by ship to France and farther afield as it was for smuggling.
Maxim’s heart sank at that possibly being the case.
Heather’s brows rose at his bluntness. “No?”
He gave a dismissive shrug. “My valet should by now have moved my things into the blue bedchamber.”
Richards had arrived an hour or so ago in the coach carrying Maxim’s trunk and other belongings he would need for his stay. The valet’s first duty, after assisting Maxim in dressing for dinner, was to move all of Maxim’s things to the unoccupied blue bedchamber two doors down from the countess’s rooms. A bedchamber that gave Maxim an unrestricted view of the Treganon Cove and the Cornish coastline.
Heather bit back the sharp reply she wished to make. Maxim’s visit was going to be even more unpleasant if he insisted upon rescinding her instructions in favor of his own. “I thought you might welcome the quiet at the back of the house.”
Maxim’s mouth twisted derisively. “The stables are far from quiet first thing in the morning when I might wish to remain asleep.”
He was right, of course. But Heather had hoped, despite Maxim’s unexpected arrival, they might still be able to receive shipment of the smuggled goods expected later tonight. His change of bedchamber meant that would no longer be possible. Which also meant she would have to quickly send word to her brothers and hope they could redirect the ship before Maxim had a chance to see it and guess its purpose.
“It is your home. You are at liberty to use whichever bedchamber you choose,” she accepted with a graciousness she was far from feeling.
“Including your own?” he prompted softly.
Her eyes narrowed to guarded slits. “Your humor is in extremely bad taste.”
Dark blond brows rose over chilling gray eyes. “I rarely, if ever, resort to humor.”
“And it shows.” Her chin tilted challengingly as she rose to her feet. “If you will excuse me? I have a headache”—by the name of Maxim—“and now wish to retire to my bedchamber and lie down.” She turned on her heel and hurried toward the door, disconcerted by the intimacy of Maxim’s remark, but also anxious to get that letter off to her brothers as soon as possible.
“Shall we both cease pretending there is even politeness between the two of us and discuss the real reason for my visit?”
Heather froze with her hand on the door handle as Maxim spoke quietly behind her. Her heart was surely beating loudly enough for him to hear. Her pulse was racing.
The real reason for his visit?