"I'd prefer banns," she said. "I want to declare our love before our congregations."

"A license would be faster."

"Why haste? Bad enough that people here might guess we've antic.i.p.ated the wedding. I don't want my friends and family in London to think the same thing. And remember, my father marries in a week. Rushing to the altar days before him would cause terrible talk."

It seemed he might continue to press for a license, but then he shrugged. "As you will."

"What bothers you, David? Speak to me."

"I don't want anything or anyone to come between us."

She paused to touch his cheek. "Nothing will, love. Nothing can. We're both of age, and with my money we are of independent means." Careless of the fact that they could be seen, she drew his head down and kissed him. "I think I owe you some kisses."

"I know you wiped the slate clean not long ago."

For some reason that made her blush, which made him laugh. He took her hand and led her on.

David felt more adrift than he ever had, tangled by dizzy love and glimpses of future heaven, but weighed down by sure knowledge of disaster in the wings.

He'd promised to reveal his secrets and meant it. There'd been reason to want to get dressed before a serious discussion, and also reason to bring Lucy to the manor as soon as possible. He knew he'd grasped the excuses, however, putting off the moment, as if something could happen to make it unnecessary to disturb her happiness.

She thought he'd merely played at smuggling when a lad, and been shocked by that. She had no idea that he was now leader of the smugglers, or that her father was trying to overrule her will and threatening retribution.

He took her to the front entrance to the manor, which was rarely used, the back being more convenient from the village. A little formality seemed in order for such a moment. The entrance had a modest portico and the short drive ended in enough s.p.a.ce for a carriage to turn, for the front of the manor faced a road of sorts, but he knew to Lucy it must seem a track.

"It's a pretty house," she said, "but not as large as I expected."

"It was a farmhouse two hundred years ago and isn't much changed since. The Kerslakes are farming stock, but then, so are the Somerfords.

"I like the flowers everywhere."

"Yes, the Crag and the manor are two different worlds."

"Something can be done," she said with blissful confidence.

Probably when he told her the whole situation, she'd have the same response.

I'm Captain Drake.

Something can be done.

Your father is determined we will not marry.

Something can be done.

No. Her father's interference was bound to upset her, so he'd keep that from her if he could.

He wanted to save her from all distress, but knew that was impossible. He could only strive to reduce the pain.

Lucy approached the door nervously, because David seemed tense. He'd said his family would be anxious to meet her, and that his aunt would demand a wedding if she realized their sin, but he hadn't said they'd approve of her.

The house didn't present a hostile front. The rose-surrounded door stood open and they simply walked into a paneled hall that smelled delightfully of lavender and potpourri. An old dog stood to amble over and greet David, who fondled its ears.

"We'll go through to the kitchen," he said.

But then a pretty, brown-haired young woman appeared from the back of the house, wearing an ap.r.o.n over her dress. "So there you are! We were about to go in search of you." She was smiling brightly, especially at Lucy, but her expression was full of curiosity.

"Lucy, I present my cousin, Amelia Kerslake. Amelia, this is Miss Lucy Potter."

"We guessed as much," Amelia said to Lucy, "when word spread that a lady had arrived for David."

To Lucy that sounded as if she were a parcel, but Amelia Kerslake showed no sign of coldness.

"Mama will be here in a moment," she said. "She felt the need to put off her ap.r.o.n and straighten her cap to greet David's bride. I suppose I should, too. Take off my ap.r.o.n, I mean." She began to untie the strings.

"Amy!" protested an older, plumper woman, joining them, cheeks flushed. "Don't run on so." But she, too, was beaming as she took Lucy's hands. "How lovely to meet you, my dear. I hope your journey here went smoothly. Come into the parlor and we'll have tea."

"Thank you," said Lucy, unable to stop smiling herself. "No one has thus far offered me refreshment."

"Davy!" his aunt exclaimed. "What have you been up to all this time?"

Perhaps David blushed. "A tour of the Crag."

"Which does have a kitchen."

"Aunt Miriam, Lucy Potter. Lucy, my aunt, Lady Kerslake."

"Away with you!" his aunt protested, laughing. "I'll be your aunt Miriam, too, dear."

Lucy wasn't sure if that was a statement or prediction but she shed any idea of being unwelcome.

"I wonder you dared," Amelia said to David as they all crossed to a room. She added to Lucy, "I've been telling and telling him that no woman will marry him unless he does improvements there. Isn't it horrid?"

"Horrid enough for a novel," Lucy agreed.

"Oh, do you read novels, too? I adore them. But I still wouldn't want to live in the Crag."

"Not even for love?"

"Oh, for that, of course. And you have money, so you can change it."

"Amelia," said her mother, sitting down in an upholstered chair.

"It's true."

"Go and supervise the tea," Aunt Miriam said, gesturing Lucy toward a small sofa. "Sit down, dear. I must apologize for my husband, but he's away on business. He won't be back until tomorrow."

"A good thing," David said, sitting beside Lucy, making them so obviously a couple. "Best to take you all in measured doses."

"Oh, you," said his aunt, shining with love for him.

This was a house of ease and love. Could Crag Wyvern ever approach the same?

"I like David's new rooms up at Crag Wyvern," Lucy said. "His parlor is a little like this."

"All that red wood and gold trim? Not to my taste, dear."

"Yes, the colors are different, but I see similarities."

Here the wainscoting was a mellow brown and the upper walls covered with white-and-blue wallpaper. But the ambience was much the same, which had probably been his intention, conscious or not.

Amelia returned with a tray of scones, followed by a maidservant bearing the tea tray. As Aunt Miriam brewed and poured, Amelia took charge of the scones.

"Do you eat scones and cream the Devon way in London?" she asked, taking the bottom half of a scone and spreading it with jam. She added a scoop of cream that seemed thick as b.u.t.ter, put the whole thing on a plate, and offered it to Lucy. "Try it."

Lucy took a bite and hummed her approval. She didn't think she'd ever tasted such a perfect scone. It was light and with just a trace of warmth to say it wasn't long from the oven. The dense cream was richly delicious and the tart raspberry jam the perfect complement.

"This is heavenly," Lucy said.

David's aunt beamed even more and described the process of making clotted cream. Lucy listened, guessing that everything here except the tea and sugar was produced locally. And the tea had probably been smuggled.

She wasn't skilled at cookery. At her mother's insistence she'd learned to manage a household, but she'd rarely actually cooked anything. Any skill could be learned, of course, but she'd rather make money through trade and hire a good cook.

As the chat continued she realized that the manor was still a farm, with fields spread around the area. It had its own dairy, making cheese, b.u.t.ter, and the clotted cream. There was also a brewhouse, and Lady Kerslake made fruit wines and many herbal medicines.

Lucy asked David, "Where does the Crag get its ale?"

"The tavern in the village, but the earldom owns the tavern, and the one in Dragon's Cove."

"And its dairy products?"

"From tenant farms, but in a way they're our own, too. Nearly everything hereabouts except the manor and its lands belongs to the earldom."

She nodded, beginning to get an idea of how everything worked and the extent of his responsibilities. She also reflected how different this house was to the one in Lanchester Street. Here she had an aunt and cousin of sorts and they both liked to talk, but Amelia's chatter made sense and David's Aunt Miriam seemed to have a warm word about everyone and everything. There had to be some things of which she didn't approve, but none had arisen so far. If she knew that Lucy had arrived in Church Wyvern in one outfit and entered her house in another, it wasn't mentioned.

When tea was finished, Lady Kerslake said, "Amelia love, take Lucy up to the room we've prepared for her and make sure she has everything she needs."

Lucy saw in David a reflection of her own reluctance to separate. How odd, when they'd met and separated so often. But they'd been so very together in the past few hours it did feel wrong to be apart. She wished she could leave him with a kiss, but blushed to see how others knew it.

Amelia took her upstairs and to a charming room.

"David's," Amelia said, but Lucy had already guessed.

It surely didn't hold his smell, but something lingered. In addition, he'd created his bedroom at the Crag in imitation of this. Plain white walls with ghosts of paintings, which she was sure were now up there. Simple furniture that might be new here because his old familiar pieces had been moved there. There was even a patchwork quilt on the bed.

Lucy went to this. "Are the pieces significant?"

"Possibly, but that was made by Grandma Kerslake decades ago. Do you have soap? No? I'll get you some." She was back quickly with a plainly cut piece of white soap.

"Is that, too, made here?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," Amelia said, suddenly anxious. "I'm sure you're used to better. . . ."

"Heavens, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to imply a criticism. I think it's wonderful that you make everything yourself."

"Do you? It's such a treat when we purchase something. I get a bar of French soap for Christmas every year. I suppose you're accustomed to be surrounded by shops."

"I'm afraid so. But not surrounded by such lovely countryside." Lucy almost laughed at saying that, but she had to say something of the sort, and thus far the countryside hadn't attacked her.

Amelia perched on the edge of the bed, swinging her feet. "Is it normal for a London lady to travel alone?" It was simply open curiosity.

"I was escorted by a Mr. Delaney."

Amelia grinned. "I heard. Up to something, I'm sure."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just the way he is. He's very exciting, isn't he?"

"David?"

"Nicholas! If he weren't married, I might set my cap at him."

Lucy opened her valise and took out items to put in drawers. "He's good-looking, I suppose, but I've never really thought of him that way."

"That's love for you, isn't it? I'm so pleased David's found a woman who loves him. I worried about his fortune hunting."

"You knew about that?"

"Oh, everyone here knows about everything. Never think to keep a secret."

"Even about smuggling?" Lucy asked, but then wondered if that was wise.

But Amelia answered without hesitation. "Secret from outsiders, of course, but not amongst ourselves."

After a moment's consideration Lucy asked, "Does everyone know who Captain Drake is?"

Something warned that she might have gone too far, but then Amelia said, "Of course. He couldn't have much authority otherwise, could he?"

"Authority involving life and death?"

"Even that."

"That's almost feudal."