by Regina Scott
“Then they are fools,” he said.
Another man with a pointed nose came forward to cut the bonds on Linus and Denby, and they all piled into the coach, where Howland was waiting, hand pressed to one arm. Blood seeped through his fingers.
“I very much fear your betrothed shot me,” he told Linus. “I suppose turnabout is fair play.”
~~~
They were safe.
Abigail breathed out a prayer of thanksgiving as the coach started for the village. She wanted to hold Linus close, not let go. She contented herself with sitting as close to him as she could.
It wasn’t a difficult feat. Besides the staff on the roof, the interior, designed to hold four in comfort, now squeezed in six. Jesslyn perched herself on Lark’s lap. Eva looked as if she would have liked to do the same with her husband, but the magistrate was pale, and blood continued to leak past his fingers. After they’d put a little distance between them and the press gang, Linus insisted that they stop so he could tend the wound.
“I was aiming for just in front of your captor’s foot,” Abigail told the magistrate. “Perhaps I should participate in musket drills myself.”
Howland gamely smiled. “A dueling pistol wasn’t intended for long-distance shots. I’m surprised you hit anything.”
“At least it was a glancing blow,” Linus said as he tied it up with his own cravat. “We’ll want to remove any impurities when we reach the village to make sure it doesn’t fester.”
“Thank you,” Eva said as he shifted across the coach so she could sit beside her husband and he could sit next to Abigail. Then she thumped on the roof of the carriage. “Take us home, Mr. Connors. We’ll return the coach and horses in the morning.”
Lark peered out the window. “I think it’s already morning.”
Indeed, a golden light spread across the eastern horizon. It brightened tree and grass, set the Channel to sparkling like a gem. Abigail could just envision the painting. Perhaps she could start it tomorrow.
For now, she leaned her head against Linus’s shoulder. “I could sleep for a week.”
“Not me,” Eva declared. “I want to know what happened.”
Abigail raised her head to meet Linus’s gaze. “Yes, Linus. You went to capture a French agent, and you ended up captured instead.”
“It was a trap,” the magistrate put in. “Bennett feared as much, but I thought we’d be a match for them.”
“And so we would have been,” Lark said, “if they had actually shown their faces.”
“Instead, they showed their hand,” Mr. Howland said.
“We had heard a press gang was in the area,” Linus reminded Abigail. “Someone alerted them to a prime catch at the public house tonight.”
“Including a physician,” Lark put in. “They couldn’t pass that up.”
She felt the shudder go through Linus. To think she might have lost him to the sea, for years. She scooted closer still.
“It was Doctor Owens,” Mr. Howland said, the name like a curse on his lips. “Bennett suggested as much. He must be their leader, the one from whom Harris received orders.”
“Then you must bring him to justice,” Jesslyn said, normally sweet voice surprisingly hard.
“This very day,” the magistrate vowed.
Abigail lay her head back on Linus’s shoulder. His hand cradled hers. Once they had Owens, surely they could find the others, and all this would be over.
Mr. Connors dropped Eva, her husband, and most of her staff off first at Butterfly Manor, and Eva promised to treat the magistrate’s wound exactly as Linus ordered.
“I’ll come by later this morning to check on him,” he told her.
“We’ll let you know when Owens is in custody,” Mr. Howland put in before allowing Eva and Mr. Pym to help him into the house.
The coachman stopped at Shell Cottage, the Denby home, next.
“I’ll open the spa at eight,” Jess told Linus as Lark helped her to alight. “Sleep if you can.”
“I should be the one telling you that,” Linus said, “but I am learning that the women of Grace-by-the-Sea are a fearsome lot.”
“Indeed we are,” Jess said with her usual smile before Lark closed the carriage door.
“Where to, Miss Archer?” Mr. Connors asked.
“The shop called All the Colors of the Sea on High Street,” Abigail told him, and he clucked to the horses once more.
“You are redoubtable,” Linus said, slipping an arm about her shoulders and pressing a kiss against her temple. “I begin to understand why you rush to help. It’s impossible to ignore when someone you love is in danger.”
“Of any kind,” she assured him. “And I do love you, Linus. Make no mistake about it.”
His hand trailed along her cheek, leaving her trembling. “I love you too, Abigail. You risked much tonight, but you saved my life.”
“So you are willing to admit that having an unconventional bride might come in handy,” she teased, hope brightening with the day.
“I would change nothing about you,” he insisted. “Except perhaps one thing.”
Abigail frowned. “What?”
“Your seating position at the moment.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, and she could not find the least fault with him either.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Linus had never felt more thankful. He and the others were safe, and he was set to marry the most remarkable woman of his acquaintance. Together, there was nothing they could not do.
Including capture a French agent.
Mother Archer was awake when they returned, and she encouraged Linus to sleep a few hours in her bed. Abigail took to her own bed. She woke him at nine.
“Sorry,” she said as he sat up, still fully clothed in the rough shirt and breeches he’d borrowed. She had changed into a green sprigged-muslin gown, the sort the ladies favored these days, and her ginger hair was curled about her face.
“Did you sleep?” he asked, rising.
“A little.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He held her close a moment, breathing in the scent of peaches. He would never think of the fruit the same way again.
Then he released her to run a hand back through his hair. “I’m in poor shape to be manning the spa today, but I don’t want our guests to be concerned. How many will have heard about our adventures last night?”
“This is Grace-by-the-Sea, sir,” she reminded him, sparkle in her green eyes. “Everyone will have heard about our adventures last night.”
She was right. Mother Archer had gone to his house with Ethan, after asking Mrs. Kirby to let them in, and brought him back clean clothes, so at least he looked like a competent spa physician when he walked in an hour later, Abigail at his side.
The guests stood and applauded. Lord Featherstone offered him a bow. The Admiral stumped over to shake his hand. The rest of Mrs. Harding’s set surrounded him with congratulations. Even tiny Mrs. Rand joined them.
“I had no idea you could perform such manly feats,” she said admiringly.
Linus looked to Abigail. “Thank you for your kind words, but it wasn’t manly in the slightest. I don’t know how I might have fared if Miss Archer hadn’t intervened.”
Mrs. Rand raised her silvery brows, but Miss Turnpeth beamed at Abigail.
“I only wish that scurrilous Doctor Owens had been found,” Mr. Crabapple said. “Imagine having the temerity to impersonate a physician.” He positively trembled with indignation.
“Unforgiveable,” Mrs. Harding agreed.
Mrs. Rand sniffed. “I knew he was a charlatan. He never once asked me to cough.”
“I told you he was a troll,” Mrs. Tully reminded them.
Mrs. Denby took pity on him. “Perhaps a glass of our marvelous waters is called for,” she suggested, and they obediently turned for the fountain.
“Then the magistrate wasn’t successful?” Linus asked her before she could move away as well.
“Eva ordered the militia
out first thing,” she told them. “But there was no sign of that Owens fellow at the Swan this morning. Lark was disappointed at the result as well. The magistrate sent word he is delaying the races one more day, but I don’t know how many will remain.”
Abigail frowned at her. “Surely we can determine where Owens went. Did Mr. Truant at the Swan see him leave?”
“No,” she admitted. “Nor did the stable hands.”
“The maids, then,” Abigail said. “Stay with the spa, Linus. We’ll sort this out.”
Linus caught her hand and tucked it in his arm. “Mrs. Denby, please reschedule my appointments this morning. I’ll be assisting my beloved, though I doubt she’ll need it.”
Mrs. Denby smiled. “Of course. And good luck!”
Abigail waited only until they had left the spa before giving his arm a squeeze. “Sorry. I’ll do better at remembering we are partners. I promise.”
“You’ve learned to trust only yourself,” Linus allowed as they started up the hill for the coaching inn. “I understand. I fell into the same trap. But we aren’t alone, Abigail. We can rely on each other. I hope you know I would never let you down.”
“I do, Linus,” she said. “I love you, and I trust you to do what’s best for us both.”
Love. He had feared to feel the emotion again, doubted his ability to truly recognize it. Looking into her face, feeling her touch, he knew he had made the right choice this time.
He took her hand and kissed it. “I love you, Abigail Archer. Let’s catch a spy.”
~~~
He loved her. She could feel it in his touch, hear it in his voice. She could almost see it shining in the brine-scented air. Though they were tracking danger, she wanted to skip up the hill, throw flower petals into the sky.
They would think her as whimsical as Mrs. Tully.
She didn’t care.
But she did care about locating the French spy calling himself Doctor Owens. She would not allow him to endanger the man she loved again.
Nancy Haughsby at the Swan offered the first clue. The chambermaid nodded as Abigail asked her about the morning.
“Yeah, I seen him,” she said, hands on her ample hips. “Bag in hand and strutting out the door, bold as you please. I wondered at the time if he’d paid his shot, but it’s not my place to question a fine fellow like him.”
“Did he turn left or right out the door?” Abigail asked.
She wiggled her lips a moment before answering. “Left. Down toward the village.”
Abigail thanked her, then led Linus out onto High Street.
“Mr. Ellison is up early to make his bread,” he mused. “Perhaps he saw someone.”
“And if he didn’t, we might be able to rule out the shore,” Abigail agreed.
Mr. Ellison had been working, but his son had been out in front of the shop, watching for early customers. He could vouch for the fact that Doctor Owens had not passed that way.
“But I’d like a word with the good doctor,” the baker said, rolling up the sleeves on his burly arms. “Mrs. Archer told me what happened last night. No one accosts our magistrate, our Riding Surveyor, or our physician.”
He insisted on following them back up the street, leaving his son in charge of the bakery.
One by one, here and there, they gathered more clues. Mr. Carroll had not seen Owens, though he had been up as well, preparing to accept a shipment from London. He too joined their train. Mrs. Kirby had seen Owens after returning from Linus’s new home with the key and had noticed him heading toward Castle Walk. Mr. Lawrence had recently taken a house on that street. His wife had come upon the sham physician passing when she’d gone out to her garden to snip chives to go on the eggs. The jeweler was at work, but his son, the militia drummer, ran to fetch the magistrate at Abigail’s request.
“He’s making for the castle,” she told Linus and their followers as they waited at the end of Castle Walk. “The French boat was still in the caves beneath the headland, last time I heard. Perhaps he’ll attempt to sail it himself.”
“But the earl already took up residence,” Mr. Ellison protested. “He can’t just wander into the castle and expect a welcome.”
“A fine physician from Scarborough?” Abigail countered. “He may not receive an audience with the earl, but he could request a tour. Visitors often do that at the great houses. Mrs. Kirby will tell you how many times she’s had to fend off requests to visit the Lodge.”
“We should wait for the magistrate,” Mr. Carroll said with a glance up the headland. “He’ll know what to do.”
“We can’t wait,” Mr. Ellison argued. “We have to catch him now. They might not grant tours to the likes of us, Carroll, but we could come in through the kitchen. My Jenny has a job there now. She’d let us in.”
Linus shook his head. “We must do nothing to make him feel threatened. We don’t know whether he’s armed. And we cannot allow him to take the earl or his daughter hostage.”
“Then perhaps,” Abigail said with a look to him, “we should request a tour too. Surely the earl could spare a moment for the physician who treated his father.”
Linus smiled. “He might at that.”
In the end, they divided to conquer. Mr. Ellison and Mr. Carroll went to the back of the castle and the kitchen door; Abigail and Linus knocked at the front. She had hoped the earl had requested help from Mrs. Catchpole and she would recognize the staff, but the tall, slender footman who answered the door was a stranger to her.
“Doctor Bennett and Miss Archer, calling to welcome the earl to the area,” Linus told him. “I had the honor of attending his father, the late earl. I believe you came with him when he was last with us.”
The dark-haired footman colored. “I did, sir. Thank you for remembering me. We’re a bit busy at present. The earl refused to see the other fellow who called this morning.”
“Slight fellow, ingratiating smile?” Abigail guessed.
“Yes, miss,” he said.
“Did you send him away then?” Linus asked.
“No. He asked to wait. Mr. Jonas, our butler, put him in the downstairs withdrawing room. Is he a friend?”
“An acquaintance,” Abigail hedged. “Perhaps we could wait as well?”
He shifted. “Mr. Jonas will have my hide, but I do think his lordship will want to speak to you.” He opened the door wider. “Welcome to Castle How.”
They ventured in.
Things had certainly changed since the last time Abigail had visited. Then, holland covers had obscured most of the furnishings. Now all the woodwork—from the dark flooring to the stairway climbing one of the tall walls—gleamed with a fresh coat of polish, and the twin stone statues flanking the hearth were visible, the graceful ladies balancing baskets on their heads.
The biggest difference, however, was in the amount of noise. From every quarter, doors slammed, and voices called.
“Miranda!”
“Lady Miranda!”
“Has the earl’s daughter gone missing?” Linus asked, and Abigail was likely the only one who knew the reason for the sudden tension in his voice.
The footman grimaced. “She likes to play her games, she does. It wasn’t difficult to find her in the London house, where everyone knew her hidey-holes. But here?” He spread his hands.
“Perhaps we could help,” Abigail ventured.
“After we speak to Doctor Owens,” Linus put in.
Of course. The French spy could not be allowed to escape again.
But when the footman led them to the withdrawing room off the grand entry hall, they discovered that the earl’s daughter wasn’t the only one missing.
Owens had vanished as well.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“We must alert Mr. Ellison and Mr. Carroll,” Abigail told Linus before dashing past the footman.
The fellow looked from her to Linus.
“Miss Archer thinks quickly,” Linus explained, edging after her. “You’ll become accustomed to it and be glad for
it. I’ll assist her. You’ll want to help find Lady Miranda.”
He slumped. “Yes, sir. And thank you.” He hurried off.
Linus followed Abigail.
He had been in the castle before to tend the previous earl, but he wasn’t entirely sure of the location of the kitchen. Both the scent of something savory and the sound of more raised voices led him down a corridor on the opposite side of the grand entry hall, where he found Abigail in the midst of turmoil.
Mr. Carroll was apparently attempting to calm an agitated cook, while Abigail tried to make sense of a younger assistant. Both women were talking loudly and over each other.
“I’ve never had such doings in my kitchen,” the cook blustered.
“Of course I let my da in,” the younger woman protested.
“That other fellow went past me like I wasn’t standing right there,” the cook complained.
“And what does he do but go thundering down the stairs?” Jenny Ellison asked Abigail.
“I hadn’t even noticed that door before Lady Miranda went traipsing through it the other day,” the cook insisted.
“Why are they so eager to reach the caves?” Jenny demanded.
Abigail met Linus’s gaze over Jenny’s blond head, and he knew she had come to the same conclusion. This was as bad as he’d feared. Both Lady Miranda and Owens must have headed for the caves below the headland, the girl from curiosity and Owens to escape capture. Small wonder Ellison had given chase. Lady Miranda could well stand between Owens and freedom. She had unknowingly put herself in harm’s way.
Linus knew the pain of almost losing a child. He didn’t wait to sort things out in the kitchen. He plunged after Ellison, knowing Abigail would follow.
The stone steps turned down and down, and only a few yards below the kitchen, the light faded. Linus put one hand to the rough stone wall and slowed his movements. Below, a glimmer of light beckoned. He made his way toward it.
Soon voices drifted up. How many were in the caves? Had the French landed after all? No, it seemed only one or two voices, repeating. An echo, perhaps?
The glimmer grew until he stepped down into a cavern that stretched into the distance. A lantern sat crookedly on the rocks fallen from the ceiling that lay somewhere in the darkness above him. Ahead, Ellison stood, hands outstretched, with Owens before him, back against the lapping sea and one arm around the neck of a dark-haired girl about Ethan’s age. The so-called doctor was short enough, Lady Miranda tall enough, that the crown of her blond head reached his chin.