“You are in a perfect position to receive the smuggled goods since you own the mercantile,” Oliver pointed out.
“That may be true, but I am the constable of this village,” Constable Philmont replied. “I am no criminal.”
“I am not entirely sure that is true.”
“Why is that?” the constable asked, his eyes not straying from the pistol.
Oliver gave a half-shrug. “You don’t seem too concerned about smugglers using your shores, which makes me wonder why.”
“Frankly, I am not entirely convinced there were smugglers,” the constable said. “I know you claimed to have seen them, but I saw no proof of that on the beach.”
“My wife and I both saw them bring their rowboats ashore.”
The constable nodded. “That is why I accompanied you to the beach,” he replied. “If it had been anyone else, I would have dismissed their concerns out of hand.”
“Why is that?”
“Because smugglers using these shores is not logical,” the constable said. “All the smuggled goods would have to be carted to Town.”
“Or sold in a mercantile.”
The constable shook his head. “I do not sell smuggled goods.”
“How do I know that to be true?”
Putting his hands out, Constable Philmont encouraged, “You are welcome to look around my shop. I have nothing to hide.”
Oliver considered the constable for a moment, and he found himself believing him. The man’s genuine responses appeased his concerns.
“I believe you,” Oliver said, returning his pistol to the waistband of his trousers.
The constable let out a sigh of relief. “I should arrest you for threatening me.”
“I wasn’t threatening you.”
“No?”
Oliver smirked. “If I was threatening you, then you would have known.”
Leaning back in his chair, Constable Philmont asked, “May I ask you a question?”
“That would only be fair, considering the circumstances.”
“Why are you so invested in these smugglers?”
Oliver sat down on the chair that faced the desk. “Smuggling is against the law, and they are using my beach to do so.”
“That may be true, but you can’t go off at half-cock every time someone breaks the law.”
“I am not going off at half-cock,” he replied.
“No?” the constable asked. “It is normal for you to interrogate constables?”
“I just needed to discover the truth.”
“And did you find what you were seeking?”
Oliver nodded. “You are not crooked.”
The constable smiled. “I am happy to hear that.”
“After we left, did you speak to anyone about the smugglers?” Oliver asked.
Constable Philmont shook his head. “No. I received the order of produce I’d been expecting from Mr. Vincent, and then I closed up the mercantile to call upon you.” He paused. “Have you considered that someone in your household staff might be working with the smugglers?”
“I had not.”
“It is entirely possible,” the constable said.
“That it is.”
The constable picked up a few pieces of paper and shuffled them before placing them down in front of him. “Unfortunately, we may never know the truth.”
“Why is that?”
“Because someone tipped off the smugglers, and I doubt they would use our shores again.”
“That’s possible, but it is foolhardy to assume.”
Constable Philmont lifted his brow. “What would you have me do, milord?” he asked. “I can’t organize the local militia because of one report of smugglers. It would have been different if we had retrieved the smuggled goods. Then, at least, I could have pointed to the barrels as proof of the smugglers.”
“I see your point, but I refuse to give up and let the smugglers win.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I will investigate,” Oliver announced.
The constable blinked. “You?”
“Yes.”
“I mean no disrespect, milord, but you are not qualified to investigate smugglers,” the constable declared. “They are ruthless men who will kill you without hesitation.”
“I am well aware.”
“Why would you put your life in danger?”
Oliver shifted in his seat, then said, “It is a slow week for me, and I could use some excitement.”
The constable groaned. “You are going to get yourself killed.”
“I don’t believe that to be the case.”
“This is not a game, milord,” Constable Philmont asserted. “You would be a fool to pursue these smugglers.”
Rising, Oliver replied, “I have been called worse.”
The constable sighed. “If you do discover anything pertinent, I want to be informed immediately.”
“I can’t promise that.”
Constable Philmont gave him a baffled look. “May I ask why?”
“If I need to act quickly on the information, I may not have time to seek you out,” Oliver said as he walked towards the door.
“Just promise me that you will try.”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
“Thank you,” the constable replied, “and do try to avoid getting yourself killed. Your wife needs you alive.”
“You need not fret about me.”
“Why do you say that?”
Oliver opened the door and said, “A band of smugglers is something that I am well equipped to handle.”
The constable scoffed. “Pardon me if I find that a little far-fetched, milord.”
“Believe what you will, but I intend to discover who tipped off the smugglers,” he said before he departed from the room.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish that feat yet, but he had confidence he would be able to complete the task.
Chapter Seventeen
Dressed in a white wrapper, Emmeline sat in her bedchamber as she read her book by the light of the fire in the hearth.
A knock came at the door that divided her bedchamber from Oliver’s.
“Enter,” she ordered.
The door opened, and Oliver stepped into the room with his cravat undone and his shirt hung partially open. “I came to say goodnight.”
She smiled. “Goodnight, Oliver.”
He leaned his shoulder up against the doorframe. “Have you decided what you will do about Lockhart Manor?”
“I have not, but it is not up to me.”
“Why is that?”
“By law, you own Lockhart Manor—”
He cut her off. “Lockhart Manor is yours to do with however you please,” he replied. “I don’t care what the law says.”
“But if I keep Lockhart Manor, we will have to return my dowry,” she said softly.
Oliver pushed off the doorframe and came to sit down next to her. “I married you without a dowry, so I
