Read Online Smugglers' Summer by Carola Dunn - Free Book Online

summer retreat.”
    “Some rainy day I should like to explore the house, but now I am ready for the gardens. Oh, I forgot your letter. I daresay you wish to finish reading it, now it is de-marmaladed, and perhaps to answer it.”
    “It can wait.” Sir Tristram folded it and put it in his pocket, ruthlessly ignoring his bailiff’s pleas for prompt advice and the fact that his reply would miss the tide. “We must go while the sun shines.”
    Octavia looked about her curiously as they passed through the Great Hall, with its high timbered roof and grey stone walls hung with arms and armour. They crossed a courtyard, then through a passage beneath a battlemented gatehouse. Looking back at the façade, with its narrow, defensive windows, she was tempted to investigate the house first.
    A large figure emerging from a nearby gateway distracted her.
    “Captain Day!” she called.
    The huge smuggler approached, his eyes widening.
    “Miss Gray?” he asked uncertainly, doffing his cap.
    Sir Tristram laughed heartily.
    “A transformation, is it not, Jack?” he said. “Miss Gray is no longer the waif you delivered yesterday.”
    “I’m happy to see you recovered, miss.”
    “I must thank you for taking care of me. I was too exhausted yesterday to express my gratitude.”
    “It was nothing, miss. A fine earful I’d have had from Martha if I’d done anything else.”
    “And thank you for the package. I hope you brought another such for your Martha.”
    “I did indeed.” He grinned. “I must be on my way now, or the River Queen will leave without me.”
    “Take care, Jack,” said Sir Tristram meaningfully.
    “Aye, sir. Good day, miss.” Red Jack saluted and strode off down the drive.
    Octavia took the baronet’s offered arm and they turned in the opposite direction. “How is it you know Captain Day?” she asked cautiously.
    “He is well known locally. William and I used to go out on his sloop when we were boys.”
    She thought his answer evasive but did not press him. After a moment’s silence she burst out, “How Mrs Pengarth must worry about him!”
    “You know his occupation, then?”
    “If I may trust the evidence of my own eyes!” She was going to tell him of the moonlight meeting between the River Queen and the Seamew, but at that moment they rounded the corner of the house. The view took away her breath.
    A lawn, a hedge, a wooded valley framed by two flowering magnolias and leading down to the river, which glinted between the trees. Rounding a hidden bend, the river stretched into the distance; the mists drawn from its surface by the morning sun made a mystery of the hills on its other side.
    Octavia became aware that Sir Tristram was watching her face, his own satisfied and slightly amused.
    “This is the country,” he said. “Does it meet your expectations?”
    “It is magnificent! I never imagined anything half so impressive.”
    “Magnificent? That adjective is usually reserved for scenery such as the Alps. We have here a pleasant panorama, charming if you will.”
    “You are laughing at me, sir, but indeed, having never seen the Alps, I consider it magnificent.”
    “It is worth going out of one’s way for,” he conceded. “The river adds a felicitous touch worthy of Capability Brown, in spite of being entirely natural! Should you like to sit on this bench and admire it or shall we go down into the gardens?”
    “Let us go down. I shall save my admiration for when I am tired of walking, and when you are not by to roast me for my choice of adjectives!”
    Crossing the lawn, they passed through a gap in the yew hedge and down a flight of steps. Turning left at the bottom, Octavia found herself entering a long, dark stone tunnel. It had a sinister air, even though she could see daylight at the other end. She stopped and looked back at Sir Tristram.
    “It runs under a lane,” he explained. “The way is quite smooth, but take my arm if you are uneasy.”
    She could not really claim to be