Married to the Rogue (Season of Scandal #3) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,34

the fleshy part of your arm. With luck, it hasn’t damaged anything too important. You’ve lost a lot of blood, though. I’d be happier if a doctor saw you.”

“Just bandage me up tight, and I’ll be right as rain,” Rupert said optimistically.

Deborah rubbed some salve across both wounds and held the dressings in place while Christopher wrapped a bandage around his arm.

“Who hit me?” the huge man demanded suddenly, feeling the cut at the back of his head.

“I’m afraid it was me,” Deborah said calmly. “You were about to strike my husband, so I hit you first.”

He stared at her. “But you’re tiny. And a female.”

“You don’t have to be big to be effective,” Rupert observed.

Deborah, leaving Christopher to tie his cousin’s bandage, rose and went to the big man, who warded her off with one hand.

“Let me see your head,” she said patiently.

He lowered one arm but still looked suspicious.

“She’s trying to help you, Josh,” Rupert pointed out.

At last, the big man lowered his head and let her bathe it. To her relief, although he had a large swelling on it, the cut was not too bad. While she washed and dressed it, Christopher began to talk.

“So, you’ve been using Gosmere Hall to store smuggled goods before they’re sent off to wherever they have to go. That’s why you’re really here, Dudley. Nothing to do with my marriage.”

“On the contrary,” Dudley retorted. “When I heard you were married and intending to live here, I had to come and move it before anyone found it. And I knew Rupert was about to bring in another load.”

“I thought Rupert had gone to America.”

“That was the story we gave out,” Dudley admitted. “In reality, he doesn’t go further than France, and spends as much time on the coast of England.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t leave him to cope alone,” Christopher said.

“Didn’t stop him marrying Georgianna, though, did it?” Rupert said bitterly.

“Who’s Georgianna?” Deborah asked.

“My betrothed,” Rupert said, glaring at his brother.

“My wife,” Dudley said firmly. “You know it was never going to work. You couldn’t come home, and in any case, her father wanted the heir to Hawfield. Don’t pretend you’re broken-hearted because I know all about the woman in—”

“Dudley,” Christopher said mildly, and Dudley cast Deborah a hasty apology. “Does my grandfather know?”

“God, no,” Dudley said. “He thinks Rupert’s in America, too. We cooked up this little scheme between us. A bit short of the readies myself, Chris, for the old gentleman is not generous by nature. This makes us both a living. Rupert brings it in, and I see it distributed.”

“Something to do,” Rupert muttered, passing another bandage from Christopher to Deborah, who began binding it around the large man’s head.

“Not fun anymore?” Christopher asked with a trace of sympathy.

“Devil a bit. It was only meant to be for a few months until—” He broke off with a shrug that made him wince and nurse his bandaged arm. “What are you going to do, Chris?”

Christopher frowned and looked at the two remaining barrels at the cellar door. “Is this lot going somewhere safe?”

“As soon as it’s on the wagon,” Dudley said.

“Well, take it away and try to make other arrangements for next time because I don’t want Deborah bothered with all this.”

Josh, duly bandaged, smiled doubtfully at Deborah and lumbered to his feet to help with the barrels.

“You’d better stay here for a day or two, Rupert,” Christopher said.

Rupert sighed and shrugged. “I’ll be more comfortable on the ship than on your cellar floor.”

“I didn’t mean the cellar, idiot,” Christopher said. “There are lots of unused rooms in this house. I don’t see why you can’t hide in one. Hunter can bring your meals since I’m pretty sure he’s in on this enterprise.”

“A bottle of brandy to turn a blind eye whenever I pass,” Rupert admitted.

“I thought the brandy was too good to have paid duty,” Christopher remarked. “Come on, Dudley, I’ll give you a hand with the last crates, and they can get off. Then we can see about smuggling Rupert upstairs…”

It was only as they began to lift the loads that she realized the total impropriety of Christopher’s dress. Dudley had removed his coat but still wore waistcoat and cravat beneath it. Christopher wore pantaloons that flapped about his calves. His shirt hung loosely over the top, but when he lifted a crate, it dragged up his shirt and revealed a flash of skin and the fact that his pantaloons were barely fastened at all from the