Free Amanda Scott by Madcap Marchioness

smile to add for Adriana’s benefit, “No one knows the riding officer’s habits better than the men he’s trying to catch.”
    “There’s only one officer?”
    “One for each five miles of coastline. Even if the Gentlemen didn’t make it their business to know his schedule, keeping him under observation would be easy enough.”
    “But how can they know before they land where he will be?”
    “Bless you, sweetheart, our local smugglers aren’t seamen. They keep their feet firmly on dry earth. The ships come in from France or Holland, and they don’t sail into harbor without a signal from shore telling them it’s safe to do so.”
    “There are no English ships involved in the smuggling?”
    “Oh, no, a good many of them are English. I just meant the sailors generally stay aboard ship and the landsmen deal with the goods that come ashore. Once they disappear into Romney Marsh, I’d defy any man, alone, to follow them. I told you what a maze it is of roads, dykes, ditches, and hedges, and since it’s impossible to find anyone in Kent or Sussex who will agree to act as riding officer, the men in that position are at a great disadvantage from the outset in knowing so little of the countryside. Our present man is from Berkshire. Even if he did know Kent well, one man would stand no chance against so many.”
    “They would kill him?” Her eyes were rounder yet.
    He shrugged. “That has certainly been known to happen, but it is unlikely nowadays, since the Gentlemen have only to intercept the officer and render him helpless long enough to get the goods to safety. There is no need to kill him.”
    Lady Henrietta said firmly, “I am persuaded that no one could be so degraded as to wish harm to Mr. Petticrow, who has always been all that is kind. Why, when the Payton child in Lydd was injured falling from the roof of his cottage—where he’d no business to be in the first place—it was Mr. Petticrow who rode his horse all the way to Hythe to fetch Dr. Simmons, who knows more than Dr. Bailey in—”
    “Yes, Aunt Hetta, to be sure,” Chalford cut in gently. “Mr. Petticrow is a kind man, as anyone will agree, but if he has made any significant progress against the local Gentlemen, I for one will be surprised to learn of it.”
    Lady Hetta frowned, then said with dignity, “’Tis a very difficult job, Joshua, and he is not, perhaps, a very clever thinker, but he is a vast improvement over that dreadful Mr. Hensby, who preceded him here. Remember how shocked we all were when he ordered a patrol to search the church during Sunday service? The very idea! Marching right up the center aisle, even into our private chapel. Desecration!”
    “The church,” exclaimed Adriana, looking from one to the other. “Surely not!”
    Chalford looked at her, dark eyes atwinkle. “Not very wise of him, certainly. That was Hensby’s last official act, over six months ago. We have had Mr. Petticrow since then. I rather think Hensby was a young man more to be pitied than otherwise.”
    “Joshua, how can you say so?” Lady Henrietta demanded indignantly. “Our very own church!”
    “And the first time within memory, I daresay, that there was nothing in its cellars or belfry that did not belong there,” retorted her nephew. “Really, Aunt Hetta, can you doubt for one moment that someone slipped the information to poor Hensby with the intention of causing just such an incident as that raid? There was nothing his superiors could do once the members of the congregation were roused to fury, as they were, other than to send Hensby packing.” He smiled at Adriana. “Hensby, I might add, was a zealous young officer with a persistent curiosity, who annoyed the Gentlemen much more than does Mr. Petticrow.” He glanced at Lady Henrietta, surprising her in the act of covering a large yawn. “Back to bed for you, ma’am. I daresay there will be no more alarms tonight.”
    “I shall sleep all day tomorrow,” declared Lady