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 hewouldget 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 muffledoof.
On a person.
By the curves he felt beneath his hands as he tried to right himself, afemaleperson.
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?”
