Julius's Passion (Regency Club Venus #4) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,14

did she have the chance to question John further on the subject, because the horses were now all loaded and the smugglers anxious to be on their way.

But Bethany found herself musing over the puzzle of it as she slowly made her way back through the dense woodland back to the house. John was a local man, as were all his fellow smugglers, and none of them, as far as she was aware, had ever ventured out of Suffolk.

Which had to mean Julius Soames had been to Suffolk before now. He had said the reason he was here this time was because he had been paying a duty call to his great-aunt in Lowestoft, but that still did not explain how or why he and John could ever have met. It was—

“I wonder what your uncle would say if he were to learn of your illegal nocturnal dealings with the local smugglers.”

Bethany was completely startled as she turned toward where that now-familiar drawl came from the shadows of the trees to her left. That break in concentration caused her to pitch forward as she tripped on an exposed tree root, dislodging her hat and allowing her hair to cascade freely down her spine.

“Careful.” Strong fingers came out of the darkness to grasp her arm and prevent her from falling onto the hardness of the frozen ground. “So, Lady Bethany, it appears you are not all virginal sickening sweetness after all,” Lord Julius Soames, the Earl of Andover, mocked.

Bethany was unsure which angered her the most, his reference to her as being “all sickening virginal sweetness” or the obvious mockery with which he taunted her with those words.

Her chin rose. “At least I do not hide behind the tailcoats of the Prince Regent in order to save myself from having to join the army and fight the French!” Utter silence followed her outburst, except for the rapid inhale and exhale of her own breathing, and it was too dark, the clouds now totally obscuring the light of the moon, for her to see Andover’s expression.

She should apologize for her outspoken remark. As she should have initially dismissed the earl’s accusation of her being involved with the smugglers. It was now too late for her to do the latter, but she could still apologize for her insulting comment.

She opened her mouth to do so.

“Do not trouble yourself to make a verbal apology.” It was as if Julius Soames was able to read her thoughts. “This way will more than suffice.” His mouth claimed unerring possession of Bethany’s before she was able to discern his intention.

It had been the shock of Julius’s life to discover than the slender young “man” he had followed down to the river was, beneath the disguise of a cloth cap and man’s breeches, shirt, and jacket, the utterly feminine Lady Bethany.

Having walked down to the river, he became stealthier as he neared where he could hear the soft murmur of voices and the rustle of horse harnesses. Rather than reveal his presence, Julius had instead chosen to remain hidden behind a cluster of trees and observe Bethany as she interacted easily with the smugglers.

Something he noticed instantly was the complete acceptance of Bethany’s presence by those rough and gruff men—implying she had been assisting them for some time—several of whom Julius recognized from his own previous nocturnal landings aboard a smugglers’ ship.

Julius made a mental note to seek out John before he left Suffolk and thank the other man for not revealing the nature of their own acquaintance.

Quite what James would make of his sister’s involvement with smugglers, Julius was unsure. No doubt James would feel the same emotions as Julius: a mixture of admiration for her audacity and concern for her slender neck if she was caught.

The moon had dipped in and out of the clouds several times as Julius watched the men working. Well…watched Bethany.

It was obviously warm work hefting the barrels of brandy and bails of tobacco and tea chests onto the side of the river, resulting after a few minutes in Bethany having to remove her jacket. This had allowed Julius to easily see, with the assistance of the moon, the way in which the leather breeches outlined the perfect curve of Bethany’s arse every time she bent over to help lift the contraband from the boats and onto the horses.

The inadvisability of her involvement with the smugglers when her uncle was the local magistrate ceased to be of importance the longer Julius’s gaze