He grinned. “Indeed it is. A preventive is an officer of the law, employed to prevent smuggling.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh. So, don’t you think it’s time to tell me what sort of trouble you’re in? Respectable, married ladies, or even young widows of a year’s duration do not commonly hire smugglers.”
Callie bit her lip. “No, I’m sorry, but it’s better for you—safer, I mean—if you don’t know anything about me.”
He gave her a long look. “I don’t know what country you’ve come from, but you’ve got things confused about how it is here. Things have come to a pretty pass when a woman and child must see to the protection of a grown man.”
He folded his napkin and put it to one side. “So, who’s the friend at Lulworth?”
Callie gave him a troubled look. “I’m not sure if I should tell you.”
He frowned. “So, it’s a man.”
She gave him an indignant look. “No, it certainly is not! Tibby, Miss Tibthorpe, is my old governess.”
“In that case you’re definitely not going.”
Callie’s jaw dropped at the high-handedness of it. “Indeed I am! Where I go has nothing to do with you.”
“You’re a fugitive and believe yourself and Nicky to be in danger. An elderly governess cannot protect you. I can. You’ll remain here.”
His calm assumption of authority irked her. All her life she’d been ordered around, her wishes and feelings ignored.
She put her own napkin aside. “Thank you, but no,” she said crisply. “I have made my plans and Tibby is expecting me. Nobody knows I am going to Tibby.”
“Except Tibby, presumably. I suppose you arranged this visit by letter?”
She knew what he was implying, but she was not as naive as he supposed. “Yes, but the letters were sent secretly through an intermediary.”
He looked skeptical. “Napoleon got some of his best information from letters sent secretly through an intermediary.”
“I know it was a risk, but sometimes one has no choi—”
“Exactly! You have no choice. You must stay here.” He stood up. “I will have a message sent to Miss Tibthorpe—”
“No, you won’t.” Callie was getting annoyed. “It is my life and my son, and I need to do what I think is best. You have been very kind, but it is not for you to tell me what I may or may not do. I never met you before last night; you are neither my father nor my husband. You have no authority over me. It would be utterly scandalous of me to take up residence in the house of an unmarried man unrelated to me, and I won’t do it.”
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, clearly displeased with this summation. “Nonsense! You forget Mrs. Barrow. She would lend the situation respectability.”
“A cook, however kind and respectable, is not sufficient.”
“Yes, but she’s also filling the place with maidservants.” He tucked his chair back under the table and moved to assist her to rise. “It is the most sensible alternative. Nicky will be happy playing with Jim, Mrs. Barrow is in seventh heaven with two young boys to feed and nag. You will remain here.”
“No, I—”
“You are safe here,” he added. “You and Nicky. Nobody else knows you are here. And if they do, I can and will protect you.”
She swallowed. “No, you don’t know—”
“I don’t care who or what the danger is. I am—I was—a soldier and I can call on my friends to help, if necessary.” His voice deepened. “I promise you I can and will stand between whatever or whoever has made you and Nicky so frightened. You are not alone.”
She blinked as her eyes swelled with sudden tears. Such kindness from a stranger…Who was he, this man? One minute outrageous flirt and the next, masterful protector. And he didn’t even know who she was.
That was the trouble. She couldn’t tell him, for if he knew, he would be in danger, and so would everyone in this house. People had died already for the sake of Callie and her son. She could not bear the guilt of any more.
It had been against her better judgment to go to Tibby, but Tibby had written that she knew the risks and would never forgive Callie if she didn’t come. Tibby had known and loved her since she was a child, the closest thing Callie now had to family.
