Page 38 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

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Vincent repressed a shudder when they walked past the rocks that had tumbled into the tunnel from the cave-in. His head still ached at random times, and Lawrence had to exercise care so as not to open the wound on his scalp when he washed or brushed Vincent’s hair.

Another ache filled him, a potentially embarrassing one, when Vincent thought of those stolen moments when he’d held Miss Walden on his lap while they were trapped in the cave.

“You’re certain smugglers stashed contraband in here?” Wallace said, looking around the empty cavern. Vincent found his brother’s disappointment illogical, as they all knew in advance that the contraband had been removed.

“Saw it with my own eyes,” Matthew assured him.

As there was a whole lot of nothing to see, they exited the tunnel to the beach so Matthew could point out where the ghost had been spotted. Wallace came up beside Vincent as they walked along the sand at the water’s edge.

“Miss Walden is a pretty Pocket Venus,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the crashing surf. “You’ve been rusticating here with her for a week?”

Vincent squinted at him. “Yes.”

“Are you making sport with her, or is she free to choose a protector?”

Vincent stopped.

Wallace looked back at him, eyebrows raised in query, his expression bland.

Without conscious thought, Vincent slammed his fist into Wallace’s face.

Wallace went down, sprawled on the wet sand.

Vincent’s vision gone red around the edges, he leaned over his brother. “You’re not worthy to speak her name,” he growled.

Face twisted in fury, Wallace sprang up and lunged at Vincent.

Xavier stepped between them, pushing Wallace away, muttering nonsense about turning the other cheek, even as Vincent vaguely noted Matthew grabbing his shoulders and trying to pull him back.

How many times had the four of them been in this exact situation? Vincent shook out his stinging left hand even as he flexed his right, curling and uncurling his fist.

“What a beautiful day!” called a feminine voice.

As one, the men all turned to look back at the tunnel entrance in time to see Miss Burrell, Miss Ebrington, and Miss Walden step into the sunshine.

The blood that had been pounding through Vincent’s veins now rushed for a different reason. He stepped back from his brothers, tugging his coat and waistcoat back into place, and swiped his fingers through his hair to shove it out of his eyes.

“You changed your mind!” Matthew cheerfully called as though the events of the last minute had not happened, striding over to Miss Ebrington. “How delightful!” He held out his arm, she tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow, and they began to stroll.

Wallace gave Vincent a scorching look before plastering an idiotic grin on his face as he called a greeting to the women.

The group walked along the beach, discussing various sightings of ghosts over the years that the Hobart brothers knew of and that Miss Walden had seen.

She was surprisingly reticent in discussing the topic, Vincent thought, then realized that Miss Ebrington and Miss Burrell had not added much or asked many questions, either. Perhaps they were frightened?

A vision flashed in Vincent’s mind, a memory of Miss Walden flinging rocks in the dark cave, working steadfastly to rescue herself.

He doubted she was frightened of ghosts, real or imagined.

As if she felt his gaze upon her, her cheeks flushed.

Without meeting his stare, she pulled a watch out of her skirt pocket and consulted it. “This walk has been most enjoyable, but I need to return to work. Mrs. Digby is probably waiting for me in the library by now.”

“Agreed,” Wallace said. “It’s not wise to keep Aunt Gert waiting.” He held out his arm as he rushed to Miss Walden’s side.

It was barely noticeable, but Vincent was noticing everything about her, and saw her infinitesimal hesitation at taking Wallace’s arm.

“I’m going to fetch my workbasket and come back down to the beach while the weather is still good,” Miss Burrell said, casting a glance at the dark clouds roiling several miles offshore. The breeze indicated the storm headed inland.

“Allow me,” Xavier said, offering her his arm.

Wallace steered them to the path through the tunnel rather than up the side of the bluff. Vincent hung at the back of the group, watching the three couples, his jaw clenched.

The torch the ladies had used still burned, stuck in a sconce on the rock wall. They collected it, lit two more, and carried on.

“I remember this cave,” Xavier said with a hint of wonder as they passed an opening. “We used to play in here when the weather was stormy.” He veered into the cave entrance, and they all trooped in with him.

“We brought our tin soldiers and enacted battles in here,” Wallace said slowly, his gaze traveling around the space. “I’d almost forgotten. It’s been so long since I was here.”

Vincent stepped close to the ledge where’d he’d recently retrieved his tin soldiers, left behind so long ago.

The tattered wool blanket was still there.

Bunched up now, instead of spread flat, the way he’d left it.

And what was that on the ground beside the ledge?

It hadn’t been there before. It almost looked like a puddle of melted wax.

He’d always brought torches with him, not candles.

Had Davey and his cohorts been in here? To what purpose?

Surely the smugglers wouldn’t be using another cave on Gert’s property so soon.

Before he could get a closer look, Miss Walden walked over to the ledge and pointed at the blanket. Her skirts hid whatever interesting bit was on the ground. “Did you leave this blanket behind as lads? Or do you think maybe the smugglers recently brought it and forgot it?”

While Wallace and Xavier debated if it was theirs or not, Vincent kept silent, knowing it was his and this was not the position he’d last left it.

“I really must be going,” Miss Burrell said, glancing toward the cave entrance.

“Yes,” Miss Ebrington agreed, passing her and going out into the tunnel. “We want to, ah, do some excavating before the day passes.”

Miss Burrell nodded vigorously. “Yes. Excavating. Exactly.” They began walking, heedless of not having one of the torches.

Matthew, Wallace, and Xavier rushed to join them.

Only now did Miss Walden reach for Vincent’s arm, and definitely led him out of the cave. Gently, subtly, but her intent was clear.

She was just in a hurry to get back to work with Aunt Gert. Right?

Vinent cast a look over his shoulder into the cave, but could see nothing in the Stygian darkness as the other three men carried the only lit torches and were already nearing the bend in the tunnel.

Aunt Gert was in the kitchen when the group emerged from the tunnel, seated at the worktable with Mrs. Bickford. Gert beamed at them as she stood.

“You’re all back! Lovely! I’ve had the most marvelous idea.

Miss Burrell, Miss Ebrington, please say you’ll come to dinner tonight.

Or just stay. I’ll write a note and have Bickford deliver it to your parents, letting them know you’re both still here.

” Her broad smile took half a decade off her face.

The three young women exchanged worried glances.

“Unless you have a prior engagement?” Some of Gert’s joy faded.

“No, no, it’s just…” Miss Burrell bit her bottom lip. “After not being able to work on the dig for a day, I was really hoping to make some progress this afternoon before the weather turns.” She gestured at her simple day gown. “I’m probably going to get dirty.”

Gert brightened. “Then it’s settled! You excavate, and then come up for supper and music in the drawing room after, and Bickford will drive you home afterwards.

” She waved her hand airily. “You can freshen up in a guest room. As for your dress, you know we don’t stand on ceremony here at the Grange. ”

Miss Ebrington sent a pleading glance to the other two.

“Yes, thank you. We’d be delighted,” Miss Burrell said after a tiny sigh.

“Yes, delighted,” Miss Ebrington echoed, smiling at Matthew, who gazed back at her adoringly.

“I’ll write the note, so my mother does not become concerned about us,” Miss Burrell quickly added, gesturing between herself and Mildred.

“Of course,” Gert said. She turned to Miss Walden. “I’ll see you in the library soon.” She asked the cook to send up a tea tray and left.

“I’m going to join Agnes in her studio,” Wallace said. He said his farewells to the ladies without looking at Xavier or Vincent, and departed.

“I’ll show you where there’s paper and ink,” Miss Walden said. The other two women trailed her out of the kitchen.

Vincent watched them go, confident now that whatever Miss Walden was hiding, the other two women were in on it. Or at least knew about it.

“If we’re going to have company after supper, I’d like to play from your new Rossini score,” Xavier said, interrupting Vincent’s conspiracy ruminations.

“We’ll need to make copies,” Matthew said. “If both of you work on it, it will take us no time at all and we can get back to rehearsing.”

Soon they had set up to work at the large dining table, the pages of the score carefully numbered before separating them, and they worked out their system to copy the overture.

Within an hour, they had used up all the blank music sheets. “I’ll have to order more,” Vincent said, tossing one pencil onto the table and tucking the other behind one ear. “Should be plenty of plain paper in the library we can make do with. I’ll just go get it.”

“Are you sure one of us shouldn’t fetch it?” Matthew said, elbowing Xavier in the side.

“No, I—” Vincent cut himself off at the knowing grin between Xavier and Matthew. “Shut up,” he growled on his way out the door, the sound of their laughter following him down the hall.

He slowed his steps as he approached the library, listening to Aunt Gert describe winter life at camp, breaking the ice in the water bucket each morning before she could make tea.