Miss Westlake's Windfall by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

my way here.”
    In no time at all, Jake’s clientele had dwindled to one old salt asleep in the corner. Ada tapped her foot. Jake spit on the floor, but he sent a boy with a message.
    * * * *
    No one had said how handsome Leo Tobin was. His dark hair and eyes reminded her somewhat of Chas, but the smuggler had a rakish, dangerous, devil-may-care quality about him that some women—not Ada, certainly—would find attractive. Ada preferred Viscount Ashmead’s open, good-humored countenance. Chas never wore such form-fitting coats, though, nor such clinging pantaloons. The gossips never mentioned that, either.
    The smuggler cleared his throat. “You wished to see me, Miss ...?”
    Ada could have kicked herself for blushing, for looking, for seeing far more than was proper. “No. That is, yes, I did wish to see you.”
    “I am honored, to be sure, Miss... ?” he prompted once more.
    Ada blushed again at her lack of manners. The man might be the devil’s own disciple, but she was a lady. “Miss Westlake. Miss Ada Westlake,” she added, not to be confused with Tess, although in this instance even Ada was worried as to which sister had her wits about her.
    “Aha,” was all he said, unhelpfully. He did smile, which did not settle her suddenly racing pulse at all.
    “Yes, and I have come to give you this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the pistol.
    His eyes widened.
    “I beg your pardon. I meant this.” Ada gave him the gun to hold while she reached into her other pocket. Missing Tobin’s grin, she held out the sack of coins, repaired with her neat stitches. “From my apple tree.”
    “Oh?”
    “You may as well take it, Mr. Tobin, for I will not accept it, nor your nefarious trespassing.”
    “No?”s
    “A thousand times no. I will not permit my land to be used to support the French cause. You may not be aware, sir, but my brother is a soldier, fighting to defend our shores while scum like you profit by undermining his efforts.” She noticed his raised eyebrow, the same affectation Chas employed just before he called her Addled Ada. Perhaps she had been a shade overzealous, considering she was practically alone in an alehouse with a known criminal, and he still held her pistol. At least it was unloaded; she wasn’t that much of a peagoose. “That is, I am sure you are a fine man. Everyone says so. You must simply find another route to ply your trade than through my apple orchard.”
    “Or?”
    “Or I shall be forced to ... to report you to the magistrate.” Who must be hand in glove with the handsome villain, she realized, that he’d gone so long unapprehended. “Or else I shall have my good friend Viscount Ashmead make sure you do not use Westlake property again.”
    “How good?”
    “How good?” At least no one ever said he had a silver tongue. “Oh. Very good.” If Chas’s name and title had the fellow quaking in his boots, then she’d use them for all they were worth. Silently apologizing to Chas and wishing more than ever that her words were true, she added, “Viscount Ashmead and I are very, very good friends.”
    “Very good.” Leo handed her the pistol and took the pouch, listening for the satisfactory clink of coins.
    “Yes, that’s what I said. Lord Ashmead is a close friend.”
    “No, miss, I meant very good, Westlake Hall is out of bounds to the Gentlemen.”
    Ada was so relieved she held her hand out to shake the smuggler’s, but he raised hers to his lips, the scoundrel. Blushing again, or still, Ada recaptured her hand and fled through the door to Lulu and the waiting cart.
    Leo tossed the pouch, the familiar pouch—for hadn’t he seen it just recently?—in the air, whistling. “Ah, Charlie, my boy, I can see why you’re so smitten. It’s a merry dance that little minx will lead you.”
     

Chapter Six
     
    When Chas returned to the Meadows, a red phaeton with gold wheels was drawn up by the stables, where the grooms were rubbing down a pair of showy but