Free The Rake Revealed by Kate Harper Page A

Not that it should be difficult; he had made himself as charming as possible to any number of people and he had high hopes of an invitation if and when the need arose.
    It was the opportunity to have free reign in the Keep that had kept him past his welcome. He had been counting on Morosett absenting himself from home some time. All he needed to do was to avoid the man’s servants, a job in itself as they were a nosy lot, and he could perform the kind of search he had been itching to make. It was why he had come to this part of Kent in the first place.
    He needed to focus on what lay ahead, not on what lay behind; specifically the absurdly alluring young widow who was becoming more and more of a distraction.
    Clearly the best thing he could do was to avoid her completely.
    Clearly.
    Tapscott sighed and shook his head, wishing he had found another house in which to take shelter four nights ago. It would have avoided a world of complications he didn’t need. I can’t have Camille Durham in my life right now, he thought in exasperation. Another time, another place, perhaps, but not right now.
    He would have to find the strength to stay away from her.
     
    During the night, a sound woke Camille and she sat up, completely awake, eyes wide as she stared through the shadows in her bedroom. Thanks to the curtains that never quite closed, the moonlight spilled through, throwing cold silver light onto the ancient rug by the bed. A few coals still glowed dully in the hearth, but the fire had nearly died.
    What had woken her?
    Had he returned?
    The thought that Lord Tapscott might have come back sent a shiver rippling through her, but she refused to think about why her heart beat a little faster at the prospect. If it was him, then she would tell him exactly what she thought of men who took advantage of others, both their houses and their lips. She threw back the covers and slid out of the bed, wrapping herself in her robe and pushing her feet into her slippers. This time, she did not light a candle. Instead, she slipped quietly from the room, ears straining, listening for something more. Had she dreamed that sound? There were a few times, in the intervening nights, when she had thought that she heard something, but this had been different, she was sure of it.
    She was convinced that somebody was moving around in the house.
    From somewhere below, came another thud, muffled, but clearly discernible. Somewhere below. Was his lordship back again, off-loading illegal brandy in her cellar? She had not been down there yet, there was really no need, but she would not have been surprised to discover that it was full of bottles in which the local excise men would be very interested. Further, it would not have surprised her that the Hibberts were well aware of what took place or, indeed, were actively involved. Smuggling seemed just the kind of thing the rat like Hibbert would excel at. He was certainly a useless gardener.
    Moving into the main hallway, she paused. There was nothing but silence. She checked out the main rooms, but all lay quiet and dark. Whoever was about was definitely down in the cellar.
    Should she go and investigate? Camille hesitated. She was not by nature a timid person, but it did occur to her that it might be smugglers she encountered down there, not some amiable nobleman with a propensity to flirt. And she wasn’t sure that she was up to facing real smugglers all by herself. Besides, the noises had stopped. Now all she could hear was the soft sigh of the wind and, more faintly, the wash of water up onto the sand from the ocean below. The night seemed quite abandoned, but for herself.
    Camille shrugged and headed back up the stairs. There hardly seemed any point in asking Hibbert to check the cellar for strangers. If he were participating in the smuggling, then he was probably down there himself. Perhaps a carpenter from Kingsdown might come and see to those entrances? Although she supposed that there was nothing to