‘But why? Monsieur, I do not understand why?’
‘Lisette!’ Monsieur Renaud laid a constraining hand on his daughter’s shoulder. ‘Tais-toi. I speak for both of us, monsieur, when I say that it shall be as you demand. But I beg you, if you should ever be in need of a friend yourself, to consider me your eternally grateful servant.’
‘Thank you, monsieur.’ Only Clarissa realised that the curt tone hid Kit’s own pleasure at the compliment. ‘Now, I will bid you adieu. I will be busy on deck until we disembark. I am sure that madame here will look after you well. She is adept at it, I can vouch.’ A brief nod and a smile, and he was gone.
Clarissa settled Lisette down to sleep on the narrow bunk, letting her head rest on her own lap, soothing her into slumber by stroking her hair as she had done with Amelia countless times. After a while, Monsieur Renaud slept too, more fitfully, uncomfortably upright on the bunk opposite, and Clarissa sat watching over them, her own mind too tired to grapple with the travails that lay ahead when they arrived back in port.
Finally she too dozed off. She woke briefly to see Kit hovering over her, tucking a blanket round her, but he put a finger to his mouth and left as silently as he had arrived, so she smiled faintly, and turned to a troubled sleep once more.
When Clarissa next opened her eyes, the porthole revealed a choppy iron-grey sea rising to meet the pale dawn sky. It was morn, though she had no idea what o’clock. Even with a poor wind, they must be near home. Gently, so as not to disturb Lisette, still soundly asleep on her lap, Clarissa rose and stretched, stiff and sore from lying on the rough planks that passed for a bed. Her eyes felt gritty from the briny salt of the sea-spray, and she was ravenously hungry. She had not eaten since the inn, which seemed like long ago now, though it was only yesterday. But breakfast would have to wait until they landed, and she had a suspicion that once they were safely ashore, breakfast would be the last thing on her mind.
The yacht was slowing, but she could see nothing from the porthole to tell her their position. Steadying herself to go above decks, she was stilled by the sound of strange voices, and waited, suddenly alert to danger. The cabin door opened abruptly and John appeared, his face creased in worry.
‘Master says to stay down there, and make no sound. There’s a cutter coming alongside, they mustn’t find you.’
‘A cutter? Do you mean a customs ship?’
‘Aye. They’ve been tipped off, must’ve been, as they were lying in wait for us. I warned the master after the last time that someone was informing on us. And this time they want to board. They must be certain sure of their information.’
‘But can’t you prevent them boarding?’
‘Master Kit’ll try, lady, but they do seem mighty determined this time. And Master Kit, happen he’s riled that Lieutenant Smith once too often. The lad’s got summat to prove.’
Looking desperately round the tiny cabin, Clarissa realised there was nowhere for them to hide. The brandy casks were in the hidden compartment on deck, but no Riding Officer worth his salt would fail to discover the hiding place if he was permitted a thorough search. Looking anxiously at the still peacefully sleeping émigrés, Clarissa knew that if the customs men found the brandy they would almost certainly want to search the cabin too, where, unknown to them, a much more valuable cargo was stored. They must be prevented from searching or the game was up for them all. And if Kit couldn’t stop them, she thought, a plan forming in her mind, well, then she would have to.
Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, for John was entreating her to remain in the cabin and stay quiet. ‘Do as Master Kit commands and don’t even think of doing anything silly or you’ll get us all hanged.’ With this, he closed the cabin door firmly on Clarissa’s face and returned above decks.
‘I must command you to allow us to escort you into port, Lord Rasenby. We have a warrant to search the Sea Wolf.’ Lieutenant Smith stood stiffly on the deck, his dinghy tied alongside in the calm waters of the channel, his cutter swaying a few yards off and behind the yacht.
‘This obsession with my night-fishing trips is becoming tedious, Lieutenant. I thought you would have better things to do with your valuable time.’
‘You have been less fortunate than usual, my lord, from what I can see?’
‘I don’t take your meaning.’ Kit’s temper, usually so cool under pressure, was frayed. Never before had they been unable to outrun the customs men, and he cursed the ill luck which had seen the wind drop suddenly. The thought of the Renauds and Clarissa hidden below decks made him nervous, more nervous than the thought of the cargo concealed in the secret locker. He had no clear idea of the law regarding the émigrés, but he had a very clear idea indeed of what would happen to his reputation if this story got out.
‘My meaning, my lord, is simple. Where is your catch?’
Cursing volubly under his breath, Kit turned helplessly to John, who shrugged in consternation. They had caught no fish.
‘As you say, I was unlucky last night, Lieutenant. Come now, we both know this is foolish. I am in need of my bed, as I’m sure you are of yours. Nothing can be gained from searching us, for there is nothing to be found.’
‘Perhaps your catch is below decks, my lord?’
‘Devil take you, Lieutenant, what are you implying?’
‘You know very well, Lord Rasenby. You are carrying contraband and this time nothing will prevent me from discovering it.’
‘I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed all the same, Lieutenant.’ Clarrie’s husky tones, as she stepped boldly on to deck, startled the men into silence. John, standing behind Kit, looked on slack-jawed.
‘Lord, Kit, I thought we’d never get back to England. I’ve missed you, darling, it’s no fun below decks on my own.’ Laying a proprietorial arm on Kit’s, Clarrie pouted. Her hair was loosened to curl freely down her back, and her dress unbuttoned sufficiently to add to her air of abandon. There could be no mistaking that she had this moment arisen from a night of passion.
Lieutenant Smith’s jaw dropped in imitation of John’s at this lush display, but Kit, quick to take advantage, merely pressed Clarissa’s hand in acknowledgment of the ruse, and smiled tauntingly at the Riding Officer. ‘My cargo, Lieutenant Smith, as you see.’ Taking Clarissa’s hand in his, he raised it to his mouth and planted a lingering kiss on her palm. ‘Good morning, my love. I’m afraid this gentleman was rather intent on searching your quarters.’
‘Oh, please, Lieutenant, let me preserve some modicum of dignity. The cabin is—how can I put it delicately—a little untidy.’ There could be no mistaking her meaning. Lieutenant Smith blushed as scarlet as his uniform.
‘You can see now, Lieutenant, why I had no time for fishing last night. I was rather more agreeably occupied with this particular little piece of bait.’ A rather unnecessary pat on her bottom made Clarrie start.
‘Please, Kit, not in front of the gentleman. You can see he’s embarrassed.’ Indeed, the Lieutenant was playing with the collar of his coat as if suddenly finding it too tight. ‘I’m so sorry, Lieutenant—as you can see, I’m having a little difficulty in taming his lordship here. What he needs is his bed.’ This accompanied by a wink, which made even Kit raise an eyebrow.
‘I—well, I—yes. Excuse me, Lord Rasenby, it would seem that once again I was misinformed. Please accept my apologies, ma’am, for disturbing you—I mean, for disturbing your …’
‘My