Page 21 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

Once Gert had closed her door, Vincent headed down the hall to his room.

His guest chamber, as his real room was occupied by Miss Walden.

He paused outside her door, listening. He had no real reason for doing so.

No expectation. And it would certainly be awkward if for some reason she were to open the door just now.

He dropped his chin to his chest. Yes, he did have a reason.

Did she sing to herself or hum under breath as she prepared for bed, as he so often did?

When they all lived at the family estate, his siblings had teased him about how often he hummed or sang, just making noise.

It had been a relief to find friends at school like Matthew who liked to make the same kind of noise with the same degree of frequency.

No sound emanated from the bedchamber, though. Given the length of his conversation with Gert and how long he’d been in his chamber before going down to join her on the terrace, Miss Walden was probably already in bed, perhaps asleep.

In the same bed he’d occupied dozens if not hundreds of nights.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, then strode for his currently assigned room. He had no business imagining Miss Walden in his bed. Her bed. Any bed.

And he definitely was not going to contemplate the idea of her marrying his best friend.

* * *

Dawn was barely peeking above the horizon when Sophia went downstairs, trying to walk confidently in case any staff spotted her, yet quietly enough she wouldn’t be spotted.

She had to know that Mildred had returned to the cave safely after dinner last night, and that she had enough candles.

She would hate for the girl to run out. The very idea of being in the cavern without light made Sophia shudder.

With any luck, Ruby and the other maids did not notice how quickly the candles “burned out” in Sophia’s chamber.

Feeling guilty at how many she was giving away, she blew out all but one as soon as Ruby left her each night.

The morning breeze tried to fling the door back on its hinges but Sophia held tight.

She had wanted to take the shortcut through the kitchen to the tunnel.

Mrs. Bickford was already banging pots and giving orders to the scullery maid, and delicious scents wafted from the kitchen, so Sophia took the zigzag path down the bluff.

Once outdoors, she began humming as she walked.

Inspired from hearing the men sing last night, she had decided the song she’d been working on would definitely benefit from a basso continuo part in addition to the tenor, to balance the top-heavy alto and soprano.

Naturally the tones she heard in her head were Mr. Huntley’s tenor and Lord Fairfax’s bass voice, rather than a violincello and double bass.

Out of habit she glanced at Theo’s excavation site by the bluff, even though she certainly didn’t expect to see her this early.

No one else seemed to be about other than a couple of fishing smacks just setting sail.

Sophia lit a candle when she got far enough into the cave to shelter the flame from the breeze.

She expected to be able to blow it out after the first few turns, and follow the light from the torch or candle Mildred would have in the cavern.

Odd. No light shone up ahead.

Holding the candle high enough to see the markings on the cave walls, Sophia found the cavern entrance. Totally dark.

She ventured further in and found Mildred snug under a thick wool blanket, curled up on the same ledge where Sophia had found the toy soldiers.

“Mildred?” Sophia stepped closer and raised her voice. “Mildred!” When there was still no response, Sophia gently shook the girl’s shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered open, then she abruptly sat up, hands clutching a candlestick, ready to swing it like a bat.

Sophia jumped back.

Mildred blinked a few times, then slowly lowered the candlestick. “Oh. It’s you.” She swung her legs and planted her feet on the floor, still wearing the gown and shoes she’d worn to dinner last night. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, which had dark circles beneath them.

“Is something wrong?” Sophia glanced around the cavern.

Though Mildred had been staying here for several days and nights—a decision beyond Sophia’s comprehension—everything was packed away in her valise save her blanket and the pallet on which she slept.

It would take only moments to remove any sign that someone had been here.

Two torches leaned against the wall, conspicuously unlit, along with the stubs of several candles.

The little kit with flint and steel was right beside them.

“I am not sure.” She threw back the blanket, stood, and stretched. “Just after I came back from dinner last night and finished using the privy, I heard voices. That’s not unusual. The waves often sound like human voices. But there was a light moving in the tunnel. Footsteps.”

Sophia’s heart pounded. She was suddenly glad of the teachers’ decision to teach the girls how to wield a candlestick, or other object, to use as a weapon if needed. Mildred already knew how to swing a cricket bat with great efficacy, courtesy of her brothers.

“I blew out my candle and stayed perfectly still. It sounded like an entire army marching through for a few minutes, but not much talking. I couldn’t make out the voices enough to tell how many speakers or even what language.

” While she spoke, Mildred tidied her hair and traded her shoes for half boots, while Sophia’s heart still pounded.

How could the girl be this calm? Sophia would have been a quivering mess all night.

“It took me a long time to fall asleep after they left. I didn’t dare light a candle.

I feel like I’ve only had an hour or two of rest.”

“Any idea what they were doing?”

She shook her head. “Did you see anything out of the ordinary? Did you take the path from the house or the beach?”

Sophia’s turn to shake her head. “The beach. Shall we go take a look around?”

Mildred lit a torch, Sophia traded her candle for a torch, and they set out.

They went all the way to the beach entrance of the cave, where Mildred used her make-shift privy that was hidden behind some large boulders, then washed her face and hands in the little waterfall, before they began methodically exploring the tunnel.

They looked into each cavern that was large enough to duck into, only briefly peeking over the rubble that partially blocked some caverns, until they reached the cavern that Enid had erroneously said filled up at high tide.

It was indeed full.

Not with water.

“Holy buckets!” Mildred’s voice was barely above a whisper as the two of them stared at the casks and crates stacked from floor to ceiling, with only a footpath the width of a man’s shoulders between the rows.

“Brandy. Port wine.” Sophia tiptoed forward, holding her torch close to read the labels. “Tea.”

Mildred inspected a different section, which had large sacks piled in stacks taller than Sophia. “I think these are flour. And these are potatoes. From Guernsey.”

They stared at each other. “Smugglers!” they said in unison.

“Do you think Mrs. Digby knows they’re using her property?” Mildred’s eyebrows climbed high toward her hairline and her eyes grew round. “Do you think she’s involved in it?”

Sophia shook her head. “Mrs. Digby leading a smuggling ring? I don’t think so.

” She held the torch higher to see more of the cave’s contents.

“Though she is certainly capable of leading such an enterprise, I’m of the opinion her sense of justice and her patriotism would not allow her to do such a thing.

Remember, she followed the drum for over a quarter century, fighting for king and country.

I don’t think she’d resort to these means just to avoid the stamp tax.

” A tiny voice in Sophia’s head argued that Mrs. Digby might justify it as reparations for those many times the government had failed to provide sufficient rations to the troops.

Gesturing over her shoulder for Mildred to follow her, Sophia set about looking at the remaining caverns. “I wonder if the ghostly figure on the beach is related to the smuggling operation. Perhaps a distraction?”

“Did you see the ghost from your bedchamber last night?”

“I had my window open so I could hear the waves, but I was working on a composition, not looking outside.” No one else had seen anything either, or Sophia was certain she would have heard a commotion like when Enid saw the ghost the first time.

Or at least, Enid had claimed to see the ghost. No one else seemed to think it was a ghostly apparition.

“I wonder if the smugglers want people to see the ghost farther down the beach so no one pays attention to what they are doing over here at the tunnel.”

They had nearly reached the room outside the kitchen door without seeing any other signs of activity.

“That would be my guess as well.” Sophia checked her father’s pocket watch that she had taken to carrying since she had become distressingly prone to losing track of time.

At the Academy, her internal clock had been as accurate—and strident—as the clocks that ruled the school’s schedule.

“Oh, dear. I have to go.” She turned to Miss Ebrington.

“It is not safe for you here. Please tell me you are now willing to come into the house and be a guest of Mrs. Digby.”

The girl shook her head, her blonde curls bobbing. “Why would I come stay with Mrs. Digby instead of my ‘cousins’ the Burrells?”

Sophia wanted to bang her forehead against the rock wall. “We have dug ourselves a hole with our deceit, haven’t we?”

Mildred shrugged. “Go, so you do not jeopardize your employment with Mrs. Digby. I will be fine.”