“If I am so brave, why won’t you let me go with you and the constable?”
He groaned as he dropped his hand. “I failed to mention that you are incredibly headstrong, as well. It is a most irksome trait of yours,” he teased.
Emmeline smiled. “You married me, despite knowing I possessed this quality.”
“That I did,” he said, returning her smile, “and I do not regret my decision.”
His wife studied him as if gauging his sincerity. “Truly?”
Before he could reply, a knock came at the door.
“Enter,” he ordered, his eyes not straying from Emmeline.
The door opened and Emmeline’s lady’s maid stepped into the room. She dropped into a curtsy as she announced, “Constable Philmont is here to call upon Lord Oliver.”
“Already?” Emmeline questioned.
“We did race along the lawns for a considerable time,” Oliver pointed out.
“I suppose you make a good point.”
Oliver leaned closer and whispered next to her ear, “Thank you for being reasonable about staying behind.”
When she didn’t respond, he couldn’t resist kissing her cheek.
He stepped back and said, “I will seek you out once I return to the manor.”
“Thank you, Oliver.”
As he made his way to the drawing room, Oliver realized that it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell his wife that he would be gone for an indefinite time to the peninsula. He could see the trust in her eyes, but it was still mingled with uncertainty. But how was it fair that he expected her trust, when he was unable to share a part of himself?
He stepped into the drawing room and saw Constable Philmont had a pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers, making him appear much more intimidating than he had in the mercantile.
The constable gave him a curt nod. “Milord,” he said.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.”
“Shall we proceed to the beach?” Oliver asked.
After they exited the estate, Oliver turned towards the constable. “Mr. Lawson informed us that you have been a constable since last year.”
“That is true,” Constable Philmont replied. “No one wanted to fill the vacancy, and the villagers all banded together to convince me to take the position.”
“You don’t enjoy being a constable?”
“I don’t dislike it,” he remarked with a grimace.
Oliver grinned. “That is a glowing endorsement of your position.”
The constable chuckled. “I enjoy ensuring our village is safe, but sometimes I grow tired of minding the same people. It astonishes me how much people will reveal when they are inebriated.”
“That has been my experience, as well.”
“I prefer to mind my own business, but I am unable to do so as the constable. Sometimes I feel like I spend my days tattling on people.”
“You do?”
“I know it is not tattling, but it does get tiring at times.”
“Is there no one else willing to serve as constable?”
Constable Philmont shook his head. “There is not,” he replied. “Fortunately, having a night watchman patrolling the streets keeps most of my evenings free.”
“That is convenient.”
“It is,” the constable replied, “especially since I am also running a business.”
Glancing over at him, Oliver asked, “What brought you to Whitstable?”
“I saw a newspaper advertisement announcing the sale of the mercantile, and I decided to purchase it.”
“Are you married?”
“Not yet,” the constable responded, “but I am courting a young lady in the village.”
“I wish you luck, then.”
“Thank you, milord.”
As they arrived at the footpath leading down to the beach, Oliver instructed, “We will need to go one at a time.”
It wasn’t long until they arrived at the sand, and the constable’s eyes scanned the beach. “You have yourself a nice little cove here.”
“It is rather nice.” Oliver started making his way down the beach as he shared, “We saw six smugglers come ashore by rowboat.”
“Six?”
“Yes, and they hoisted eighteen barrels over their shoulders as if they were nothing more than bags of feathers.”
“Delightful,” the constable muttered.
They continued walking down the beach until Oliver saw the crevice in the cliff’s wall. “It is not much further,” he shared.
He walked straight into the crevice and his heart dropped. It was empty.
The constable stopped at the entrance of the cave. “Where are the barrels?”
“They are gone,” Oliver replied in disbelief.
“All of them?”
Oliver turned to face the constable. “This entire crevice was filled with barrels last night, I swear it.”
“I believe you, milord,” the constable said, but Oliver could hear the doubt in his voice.
“My wife also witnessed the smugglers coming ashore,” Oliver pressed.
Constable Philmont placed his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Without any evidence, I’m afraid I have no choice but to stop investigating this case.”
“The smugglers must have been tipped off.”
“Who else did you tell about them?”
“No one.”
The constable gave him a look of pity. “If the smugglers did return for the smuggled goods, then they are long gone.”
Oliver walked out of the crevice and saw booted prints in the sand. He followed the prints to a footpath that led up the cliff. He turned back towards the constable. “The smugglers must have taken this path up to the top of the cliff, where a cart was undoubtedly waiting for them.”
“That is for the best,” the constable said. “With any luck, the smugglers will stop using our shores.”
“Will you place patrols on the beach?”
“If that would appease you, milord.”
Oliver frowned, knowing the constable was just trying to pacify him. “I think it would be for the best,” he replied. “At least until you confirm the smugglers have stopped using your shores.”
“As you wish.” The constable glanced up in the direction of the manor. “Would you care to return to Lockhart Manor now?”
“I suppose so.”
Constable Philmont gave him a side glance. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about what you saw down here last night,” he said. “After all, we don’t want to cause any undue panic amongst the villagers.”
“I agree.”
“Good,” the constable replied. “This must have been quite the excitement for someone of your station.”
“Meaning?”
With a complacent smile, Constable Philmont remarked, “It is not every
