Page 50 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

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“You’re sure about this?” Vincent quizzed Matthew the next afternoon in the kitchen. Aunt Gert was having her nap and Miss Walden had disappeared, as usual. Matthew and Vincent were gambling that she had gone to the beach to meet up with Miss Burrell and Miss Ebrington.

“Absolutely.” Matthew peeked under the checkered cloth covering the picnic meal, added another half-dozen tea cakes, and covered it again.

“I cannot wait another day.” His arm tucked through the basket handle, he nodded his thanks to Mrs. Bickford for providing the food, and opened the kitchen door to the tunnel.

Vincent lit a torch and led the way. He hardly stumbled when they passed the cave-in.

His headaches had abated, though Lawrence still had to be careful not to open the healing wound when he dressed Vincent’s hair.

Miss Ebrington would probably forgive Matthew quickly for his part in their subterfuge.

Miss Walden, though… he wouldn’t put it past her to part his hair with a chair.

But she had also been engaging in subterfuge. Hadn’t she?

They’d know soon enough, as the three women were indeed seated on boulders at the base of the bluff near Miss Burrell’s dig site.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Matthew called with forced cheerfulness.

All three stood, then dipped into a curtsy as Matthew and Vincent bowed.

They exchanged pleasantries, then the women sat again, making room for the men. Vincent chafed at the delay of having to go through meaningless social platitudes like the state of the weather.

Matthew untucked the cloth on the basket, revealing the wealth of food inside.

“I brought a little something to share.” He locked gazes with Miss Ebrington.

“In case you might feel a bit peckish.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached into the basket, found a meat pie, and handed it to the wide-eyed blonde.

“Th-thank you, Mr. Huntley.” Miss Ebrington seemed bewildered, as though she didn’t quite know what to do with the food in her hand.

“Eat up,” Vincent said, helping himself to a tea cake. “Mrs. Bickford is likely to be insulted if we bring the basket back with anything more than crumbs and the cloth.”

Only after Miss Walden gave the girl a reassuring nod and selected a slice of honey cake for herself did Miss Ebrington begin to eat.

After they had all selected something, Matthew nudged the basket closer to her. In unspoken accord, everyone else ate slowly, allowing Miss Ebrington to consume most of the contents without seeming indecorous.

“How is your dig going, Miss Burrell?” Matthew asked.

“Quite well,” she replied, her tone indicating puzzlement at his interest. “I’ve uncovered what I believe to be the head of something distantly related to crocodiles or lizards, but that swam in the sea.”

“I shudder to think what a fish or lizard that large would look like,” Miss Walden said. “Having seen what you’ve uncovered so far, it would have been as big as a horse!”

They continued in that vein, discussing fiendishly large water creatures, until Vincent was ready to smash something. Even staring at Miss Walden’s bare toes, peeping out from her skirts in her Grecian sandals, proved to be little distraction.

“Pop the blister already,” he growled to Matthew when at last there was a lull in the conversation.

Miss Ebrington and Miss Burrell looked mildly surprised, while Sophia looked ready to bolt.

Hoping to shock her into not moving, Vincent edged closer on his rock and took her hand in his.

After a moment while he dared not breathe, she curled her fingers around his.

He tried not to crow in triumph like a schoolboy stealing his first kiss.

“The thing is…” Matthew cleared his throat. “You see…” He ran a finger between his neck and neckcloth.

“Get on with it, or I’ll tell her.” Vincent tried not to growl, though his voice may have been deep and rough. He gave Sophia a reassuring squeeze. Well, he hoped she interpreted it as reassuring.

Matthew spoke in such a rush it was hard to distinguish one word from the next. “I know you were engaged to my cousin, the Earl of Wingfield.” He took Miss Ebrington’s hands in his. “The thing is…” He cleared his throat again. “He died. About a month ago. Which means—”

“You’re the new Earl of Wingfield?” Miss Ebrington seemed unfazed.

Miss Burrell and Sophia exchanged apprehensive glances.

“Er, yes.” Matthew plunged ahead, though he was the one who now looked puzzled. “I’ve discovered that the marriage agreement signed by my cousin and your father named you by your given and family name, but my cousin only by his title. Which means—”

Miss Ebrington let out a joyous squeal and launched herself at Matthew.

Caught off-guard, Matthew tumbled backward off his boulder onto the sand, Miss Ebrington landing on top of him.

She lifted herself up on her arms high enough to look Matthew in the face. “Which means you’re my Mr. Huntley?”

Matthew nodded. “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” she muttered, and kissed him.

Matthew cupped her cheeks and responded to her kiss with such enthusiasm, Vincent averted his gaze.

Which left him looking directly at Sophia. At her luscious mouth. She was biting the corner of her bottom lip.

Had Miss Burrell not been present, Vincent would happily kiss Sophia.

But they still had other obstacles to overcome, more secrets to resolve.

Miss Burrell loudly cleared her throat, even as she stared out at the waves rolling ashore.

After a moment, Matthew got up, assisted his fiancée to her feet, and dusted both of them off before they sat again, holding hands, looking as pleased as cats who’d got into the cream pot.

“I’ve been trying to locate your father, so we can have the banns read as soon as possible.” Matthew caressed her hand. “But not even the vicar knows where he lives.”

Miss Ebrington’s face fell. “Oh. About that…” She gave a beseeching look to both of her former teachers.

“The Ebrington family does not reside in Sidmouth,” Sophia admitted.

“She ran away rather than wed your cousin,” Miss Burrell added.

“Just as I thought,” Vincent said. Everything made sense now.

The ghostly figure walking on the beach.

Seeing Sophia and Miss Ebrington running in the storm.

Faint footsteps behind him when he escorted Sophia through the passageway back to her chamber.

Melted wax on the cave floor. The disturbed blanket on the outcropping.

Good heavens, what an adventurous bride his friend was acquiring!

“You knew?” Matthew accused him. “And didn’t tell me?”

“I suspected.” Vincent squeezed Sophia’s hand. “For such a petite person, Miss Walden demonstrates a prodigious appetite, yet always seems underfed.”

She gasped in outrage. Good thing there were no candlesticks nearby.

“But what made you connect that to procuring food for a runaway?” When Miss Ebrington also gasped in outrage, Matthew kissed her cheek. “That is what you are, my dear.” He raised their joined hands to kiss her knuckles, and her expression softened to one of adoration.

Vincent flashed back to when they were about to be rescued from the cave-in. “I did not safeguard my reputation this long only to ruin it protecting a foolish former student.” He could hardly share that she had let that slip, as it would not reflect well on Sophia or Miss Ebrington.

Or himself. He wanted Sophia as his wife, but their marriage would have a rocky start if she felt forced into it, if anyone but Matthew suspected Vincent had been awake rather than unconscious while they had been trapped together all night.

So far they’d even managed to hide Sophia’s presence in the cave from Aunt Gert.

“What we need to do now,” Miss Burrell said, blessedly changing the subject, “is figure out how to alert Mr. Ebrington that Mildred is now amenable to the marriage he arranged for her, without ruining her reputation in the process.”

“He thought he was marrying me off to a wealthy earl,” Miss Ebrington said, gazing at Matthew. “Is he? Are you?”

“No, and yes.” Matthew kissed her hand again.

“My cousin Giles was on the brink of ruin from his gambling debts and excessive lifestyle, and counted on his bride’s dowry to rescue him and his estates.

The steward I hired is helping me rescue the estates, a project that is coming along nicely without Giles draining them dry for his gaming and wenching.

” He plowed his fingers through his hair.

“Unlike my cousin, I invested most of the inheritance I received from my grandmother and live a much more modest lifestyle, so I am free to choose a bride without consideration for the size of her dowry.”

“Except that, as the new earl, you’re locked into the arranged marriage to which your cousin agreed,” Vincent reminded him.

Matthew nodded, still gazing adoringly at Miss Ebrington. “Throw away the key.”

The girl sighed and melted against Matthew, clinging to his arm, their fingers intertwined.

“We could write to your parents,” Sophia said. “Explain that you’ve been a guest of Mrs. Digby—”

“Or my parents,” Miss Burrell interjected.

“—and let them know to have your vicar begin reading the banns.” Sophia turned to Matthew. “And you can let your parish vicar know.”

Matthew shook his head. “I don’t want to wait three weeks or more. Let’s just invite your parents to the wedding. I’ll procure a special license.” He stroked the back of his fingers along Miss Ebrington’s cheek. “Where would you like to get married, my darling? At your parents’ home, or—”

“Here.”

“I’m sure Aunt Gert and Aunt Agnes would be thrilled to host a wedding breakfast,” Vincent said. “And Mr. Middlebrook would officiate in the village church.”

Miss Ebrington pointed at the sand beneath her feet. “Right here. On the beach.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, Sophia set aside a completed sheet to dry, grabbed a blank sheet of vellum, and continued transcribing Major Digby’s latest act of heroism.