Page 24 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)
“And have you seen any unusual activity in the area?”
Theo fidgeted with her chisel in her hands as she glanced up and down the beach.
“There are always people out for a stroll when the weather is nice. I haven’t really seen anyone pay attention to the cave, and I have not explored any of them since I found this.
” She indicated the fossil on the bluff she’d been working to extricate.
Her head snapped up. “There is, however, one new person who I have seen multiple times.”
Everyone leaned in close, the better to hear her.
“Lady Lyttleton’s heir. Mr. Thorpe.”
Mildred gasped.
“He seemed like a nice chap at supper last night.” Mr. Huntley ran his fingers through his auburn hair, sending the waves into disarray.
“What do we know about him? Did he inherit enough blunt to run the estate she left him?” He shook his head, settling his hair more or less back into place.
“An estate is more trouble than it’s worth if its previous owner let it go to wrack and ruin. ”
“I was not privy to the state of Lady Lyttleton’s finances,” Theo began, “but I do not recall her ever mentioning nor showing signs of financial difficulties. She was most generous in granting me in her will the rights to whatever fossils I find on her property.”
“But what do we know of him?” Sophia smoothed her skirt down as the breeze picked up. “What did Mr. Thorpe do before he inherited the estate? His hands are not that of an idle gentleman.”
Fairfax looked at her sideways.
“Calluses.” Sophia held her hands palm up.
Fairfax nodded. “A man who has labored.”
“Perhaps he was in debt and needed even more than what he inherited,” Mr. Huntley tossed out.
“Perhaps he is indebted to someone of nefarious character, and they are blackmailing him,” Mildred said, leaning forward in her excitement. “Either to do the smuggling himself, or—”
“But the smuggled goods are not on Mr. Thorpe’s land.” Fairfax shook his head.
“Are there caves on Mr. Thorpe’s section of the beach?” Sophia turned so she could get a better look at the bluff, and squinted. Were there any openings she had missed? She had not noticed the opening to the tunnel on Mrs. Digby’s property at first.
Theo waved her hand dismissively. “The geological formations differ. The bluff starts to descend and smooth out, until you get to the flat beach down by the inns and hotels in Sidmouth proper, before it rises again on the far side.”
“So if he did need a cave to hide smuggled goods, he would have to use the one on Aunt Gertrude’s property.” Fairfax grimaced. “Miss Burrell, under the circumstances, I think it best if you paused work on your excavation site. At least until we find out what is going on.”
Theo looked like she was going to argue, but then her shoulders sagged and she let out a deep breath. “Much as it pains me, you are probably right.”
Sophia wasn’t sure if it pained Theo more for Fairfax to be correct, or to pause her work.
“I know Lady Lyttleton was a patron of yours of sorts,” Fairfax continued, “but she would not want any harm to come to you. Especially on her property.”
Theo’s mouth tightened. “Reluctantly, I must agree.” She gave Mildred and Sophia a significant look. “On the bright side, this will give me time to work on a different project.”
* * *
Once up in her room after Mrs. Digby and Mrs. Royston retired for the night, Sophia stared out at the beach, too agitated to think about going to sleep.
Would Mildred be discovered in her cave? Was she struggling to stay awake, waiting for the moment she would need to flee? Was she trying to sleep on the beach?
The girl was too adventurous for her own good. Not to mention Sophia’s peace of mind.
Sophia wouldn’t get any sleep until she assured herself Mildred was safe.
After minor clothing changes suitable for a late-night trip to the beach, Sophie tiptoed down the stairs.
The senior staff were having a drink together in the kitchen, so she exited via the drawing room terrace and walked down to the beach.
She’d find the girl and bring her through the tunnels to the stables, then they’d use the secret passage that Fairfax had used that first night to reach her bedchamber.
Within the hour, she and Mildred would both be sound asleep.
Sophia’s big bed, or at least a cot in her dressing room, would be more comfortable for Mildred and certainly safer than whatever was available in the caves, what with the smugglers coming and going.
If Ruby arrived too early in the morning, before Mildred hid elsewhere, Sophia was confident she could win the maid’s silence.
Carefully setting each foot so as not to trip in the faint light from the moon, she picked her way through the shale close to the base of the bluff. She was almost at the tunnel entrance when she heard footsteps approaching on the beach.
Two sets.
Blast! Had the smugglers returned already?
* * *
The household settled in for the night. Aunt Gertrude, Aunt Agnes, and Miss Walden had gone up to bed an hour ago. Vincent met Matthew by the back door, buttoning up his coat. He handed a pistol to Matthew, along with a bag of extra shot and powder.
“I do hope we don’t need this,” Matthew quietly said. He tucked the pistol into one pocket, the pouch into another.
“Would much rather have it and not need it than the other way around.” Vincent patted his pocket, checking his own pistol and pouch were in place, then opened the door and led the way out into the night.
With only a quarter moon to guide them, Vincent relied more on memory than his vision.
He had several candle stubs in his pockets along with a tinder kit, but would not light them unless absolutely necessary.
He also had coils of thin rope in various pockets, which he hoped he would get a chance to use.
Contraband goods in the cave represented a threat to Aunt Gert.
Vincent was determined to neutralize that threat, as soon as possible.
Even more than he wanted to resolve the mystery of the ghost on the beach who was not Mother Hobart, or uncover what Miss Walden was hiding.
Descending the zigzag path to the beach, he wondered if any of those three things were connected. Perhaps the ghostly apparition was a decoy for the smugglers, drawing attention away from anyone who might notice activity near the tunnel entrance?
As they neared the tunnel, Vincent focused his attention on walking silently and not stumbling.
Sand and pebbles gave way to rocks and boulders at the base of the bluff as they neared the tunnel entrance.
Occasionally he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Matthew followed close behind him and to see if the female “ghost” was out for a walk.
There she was!
Wearing a flowing dress in pale grey, a matching shawl fluttering in the light breeze, her long grey hair hanging loose halfway down her back, she walked the beach near the waves, heading away from them, toward town.
He was about to direct Matthew’s attention to her when his foot caught on something and he lost his balance. He windmilled his arms, to no avail, and came crashing down with a muffled oof .
On a person.
By the curves he felt beneath his hands as he tried to right himself, a female person.
Had he literally just stumbled onto the ghost impersonator? But no. The ghost was back there in grey, and the woman beneath him was dressed in dark brown, with a black scarf concealing her face and hair.
He rolled to the side, ignoring the rocks poking his ribs and elbow, and tried to find a hand or arm to keep her from escaping.
“Unhand me,” the quiet but intense voice demanded, “ now .” Female, as he expected. With a familiar confidence. The same quiet confidence that had evicted him from his bedchamber the night he arrived at Aunt Gert’s.
“Miss Walden?” he replied just as quietly, trying to hide his surprise.
“Lord Fairfax?”
“What are you—” they said in unison, before breaking off in stunned silence.
Vincent let go, and she swiped the scarf from her face.
“Well, fancy meeting you here,” Matthew softly said, as though they had all just encountered each other on the terrace at a ball.
Belatedly Vincent realized his legs were still covering Miss Walden’s lower half. He sat up, then stood and reached a hand down to help her to her feet. He gave her a moment to dust herself off, as he did the same. “You aren’t out for an evening stroll.”
“Neither are you,” she replied, gesturing at them. Vincent and Matthew were both dressed all in black, including their shirts and neckcloths.
“I imagine she’s trying to do the same thing we are,” Matthew said, still conversing as though they were attending a ball rather than hiding on a beach late at night. Though at least he kept his voice low. “Catch smugglers in the act.”
“The question remains, why?” Vincent folded his arms over his chest. “This in no way comes under the heading of anything Aunt Gertrude hired you for.” Could she be part of whatever was going on with the fake ghost? It had not appeared until after her arrival at Hobart Grange.
And now it had disappeared. No one else was on the beach but the three of them. He’d lost his chance to catch whatever mortal was impersonating the ghost.
This time.
“True.” Miss Walden mimicked his posture. With her scarf dangling loose over one shoulder, her folded arms pressed her breasts upward, peeking over the neckline of her dress, the top curves just visible in the moonlight. “I am not here for Mrs. Digby, nor for myself.”
Vincent struggled to focus on her words and not the tantalizing strip of creamy skin on display. With great effort he raised his gaze to her face. “Then—”