“How did tonight go?” Red dropped onto a chair and leaned back to eye Knight. The earl, dressed casually, but as usual impeccably, affected his typical insouciant air.

Knight shut the door to the dining room behind him. Small but clean and with welcoming flames crackling in the petite fireplace, the private dining room usually played host to noble folk or those with a little extra coin, but the four of them—Red, Nate, Drake and himself—sometimes used it for conversations that should not be overheard.

Knight shrugged and strode over to the fire. His clothes remained uncomfortably plastered against his skin, and he needed a moment to swipe away the image of that bastard touching Louisa. He peered into the dancing flames. That woman was starting to occupy his thoughts far too often.

“Considering your appearance, I take it all did not go smoothly?”

Knight glanced sideways at Red. The earl was the money and the brains behind their operation. When Nate had been unable to join the military thanks to his need for glasses, his older brother had taken it upon himself to ensure Nate could fulfill an element of helping his country. It was an unusual way to help for sure, but it worked for them all. It put Knight’s brawn to effective use and earned good money. For he and Drake, who had both been close to penniless and utterly aimless before meeting Red, it had likely saved their lives.

Not that Knight would ever tell the earl that. The man was arrogant enough as it was.

“I handled it,” muttered Knight.

“And went for a swim?” Red motioned to the chair opposite.

Knight ignored the invite. “Customs men were about tonight. I...incapacitated them.” He turned his attention back to the fire, allowing his focus to soften until the flames became a giant orange blur while he rested one arm against the cold, uneven stone walls of the building. What happened tonight was not a common occurrence. They were usually able to evade the customs men but his clash with them would draw more attention to Penshallow.

There was little else he could have done, however, and Knight could not claim to feel much of anything about the clash. The men were alive and would be sore and likely a little chastened, but he had a job to do just as they did.

With any luck, thanks to the prevalence of smuggling in Cornwall, the undermanned excise troops would not have the ability to increase their presence locally and things could continue as normal.

“Knight.”

Knight turned to face Red. The man motioned to the seat opposite. Reluctantly, he eased himself onto the wooden chair that felt too spindly for his large body. Since he turned fourteen, he’d been too large for everything. Too large for women, too large to be a gentleman, too large for anyone to see him as anything other than a brute.

He huffed to himself. Well, that suited him just fine.

He peered at Red. Though the earl did not always involve himself in the physical work, the man was strong with the elegant looks of someone brought up on money. Red never treated Knight as anything other than a fellow man, even prior to discovering Knight had noble blood in him, but Knight always felt like a beast next to the perfectly polished man. He supposed Red had not always been quite so polished, but marrying had created a calmness about him. Gone were the days of nursing a whisky until the early hours.

Which begged the question, why was Red here at this hour?

Knight eyed the scarred tabletop, running a ragged fingernail down one of the grooves. He was not sure he wanted to know. Whatever it was, it could not be good news. This was why he avoided being anything other than the physical face of things. He loathed sitting and discussing things. If it could not be solved with his hands, he didn’t want to know.

“All is well,” he assured Red. “No one saw anything but me and none would be able to recognize me.”

Red nodded. “I know you can handle things.” He leaned forward. “But I did not come here to discuss our business arrangements.”

Knight scowled. “What is it?”

Rubbing a hand across his face, Red took a lengthy inhale and met Knight’s gaze. “I received word that your father has passed.”

Knight stared at Red and waited for some kind of emotion to wash over him. A thud of his heart perhaps. The sick feeling in his stomach. None of it came. His father had been a heartless bastard and had beat any feeling out of him long ago. Still, he’d imagined this day and had expected some sort of emotion about it, maybe triumph even. Instead, it had left him cold. It seemed the years in the Army and the time after that had ensured he would never truly feel anything ever again.

Moments passed, the crackle of the fire and the occasional sound of footsteps from the taproom punctuating the silence. Aware of Red watching and waiting for a reaction, Knight stood quickly, the chair screeching in protest against the floor as he pushed it back. He strode back over to the fire and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Red rose from the table and came to stand at Knight’s side. He leaned a shoulder against the wall as though he had all the time in the world.

“After what he did to Julianna, he deserves death,” Knight muttered.

Red made no comment. If he thought the statement unfair, he made no sign of it. As far as Knight was concerned, trying to force his sister into marriage to a man who was known for killing and harming his wives, had been the worst of all his misdeeds. Whatever his father had done to him was inconsequential. He could handle it all. Julianna was an innocent, though, and never deserved to be forced to run from her home and have her life put in danger.

“Does she know yet?” Knight rotated to view Red.

He shook his head. “I was going to leave it to you to tell her.”

“How did you find out?” No one knew of Knight’s presence in Cornwall.

“A letter from the estate asking after your sister. I thought after what happened previously, it would be prudent to speak with you before giving out any information.”

Knight nodded. There was no one left to harm his sister after the man who had wanted to marry her tried to kidnap her and was put on trial, but with Knight’s activities, it was safer to keep her whereabouts quiet. He did not want anyone ever using her against him. However, it seemed rumor of her location had spread.

“They are looking for the heir to the title.” Red pulled a letter out from the inside of his jacket and handed it over.

Knight ran a finger over the broken wax seal—the initials of his father stamped into it. Exhaling, he opened the letter and scanned the hastily scrawled contents. Knight shook his head. “All that will be left is an empty house and a penniless title.” He could not keep the bitterness from his voice.

Until his father had disinherited him, he’d indulged grand ideas of being the sort of viscount his father’s estate deserved. But his father had plundered and pillaged their lands to feed his greed, selling off whatever land he could, neglecting tenants’ houses and the farms, and racking up great debts so he could live the sort of lifestyle he thought he deserved.

Now all that was left was debt and a title. Whatever else his father had owned would have been willed on to others, Knight was certain of that.  Knight would have to do what he could with the entailed lands to cover the death duties and debts against the estate. Anything that could be sold off would be, and he’d have to find a tenant for the house with haste.

“You should go home. Settle the debts,” Red advised.

“I’d rather die than set foot in that place again,” Knight muttered.

“There’s nothing to do for a while here, and if you do not, they shall come looking for you.”

Knight nodded. He knew he could not avoid returning home really, but he’d be damned if he’d go eagerly.

“Take my carriage,” Red offered. “That way you will be back by the time Drake has returned from France.”

Knight bunched a hand at the thought of riding in Red’s crest-emblazoned town coach, crunching the letter between his palm and fingers. Noble blood might run through his veins, but he didn’t belong in such a vehicle—he knew that much. Too many years had passed, and he’d seen too much. He was as rough as the next man and had no business arriving at a grand estate in such finery.

Even if it was now his estate.

God, the sooner it was gone, the better. He nodded. He’d take the damned coach if it meant he could have everything settled and return to Cornwall promptly. If he didn’t, he would be relying on mail coaches for most of the journey to Northumberland. While they were fast, he’d have to hop from coach to coach, eating up more time than he wished to spend on this matter.

Red patted Knight’s shoulder. “I’ll have the coach ready by mid-morning. You had better get some rest before the journey.”

Knight waved away the suggestion. He’d learned to go without sleep when needed and could rest on the journey. His time in the Army had taught him to snatch rest when and where he could, which meant he could sleep practically anywhere.

“I had better tell Julianna.” Knight glanced at the crumpled letter. If only Drake were here. He’d be better at comforting Julianna. As much as Knight loved her, he had little idea what to do with his much younger sister after so many years apart.

“Louisa will comfort her.”

He lifted his gaze to Red’s. How the hell did he know what he was thinking?

Red’s lips curved. “You are more obvious than you realize, Knight. Perhaps you are getting soft in your old age.”

“Not likely.”

“I shall leave you to it and arrange for the carriage to be made ready. Hannah will be wanting to know why I rushed out so quickly too.” Red exited the dining room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Knight caught sight of Julianna talking to Louisa and a patron he did not recognize. There would be no putting it off until morning either then. He’d have to tell his sister now. Eyeing the letter once more, he crumpled it up and threw it in the fire, watching with satisfaction as the wax seal melted into oblivion. 

The sooner this was dealt with the better—for both of them. And then he could return to this life. The life he was meant for. The life of a smuggler.