by Brenda Hiatt
Taken aback, Kit lifted his good arm in a gesture of defense. “I did not mean to—”
“Perhaps not. But you were making excuses for him, like one man defending another in some sort of male brotherhood. You were not listening to me. He never admired me. He set out to buy me for purposes of his own. They must have been compelling, for when I was no longer beautiful, he persisted in his suit. Don’t think it was because he could look past this disfigurement and love me for what I am. Even I do not know what that is. I used to be a spoiled child, relying on my beauty and good breeding and large fortune to carry me through life. Now I am nothing.”
Heat scalded his face. She was exactly right, until the last sentence she spoke. He had leaped to Sir Basil’s defense for no reason whatsoever, except that he knew men often behaved foolishly when they tumbled unexpectedly into love. His brother had been a prime example, nearly losing the woman who was now his greatest joy. And Kit was feeling none too certain about his own prospects with Lucy after the poor start they had made together, although he was fairly sure he’d be able to turn things around.
The fact remained that he was a man, which meant he thought like a man, and he definitely relied overmuch on his success at winning over most every female who caught his eye. He was too confident. He assumed he understood women when that was patently impossible. But one reason he adored them was their very complexity, and he was currently being given a hard lesson about the danger of jumping to conclusions. About being smug and patronizing, which he hadn’t known he was being until Diana took him to task in no uncertain terms.
Were he not already in love with Lucy, he could very easily fall in love with Miss Diana Whitney.
“Have you nothing to say?” she demanded.
He gazed steadily into her eyes. “A litany of apologies, if you wish to hear it. I assure you that I would mean every word from my heart. But what I most want to say is that you are splendid, Diana. I well understand why Lucy chose you as her friend.”
“Don’t be that way, Kit. I shall cry again if you are.”
“Very well. I think I understand, but most probably I don’t.” She sank back onto the rock beside him, making no objection when he wrapped his arm across her back. “I wish Lucy had been here to see this display of temper,” Diana said. “She tells me I am passive and weepy and despairing, which is all true. Since writing her the letter that brought her here, which seems to have used up the last of my courage, I have left her to do everything while I float behind her like a leaf on a strong current.”
He nearly assured her that that wasn’t the case, but stopped just in time. What did he know of it, after all? And in his experience, Lucy took charge and snapped out orders like a field marshal. It would take a strong will to match hers under any circumstances. “You haven’t told me how you were injured, butterfly,” he said softly. “Have we come to that point in your story?”
“Near enough. I keep thinking of small things that added up to big ones, but there is no explaining them. And always I am guessing at my uncle’s motives, not to mention Sir Basil’s. He has some hold on the new Lord Whitney, that is certain. The last time he came to call, I declined his offer and made it clear I would not change my mind. Then they were closeted together for nearly half an hour before Sir Basil took his leave. I watched him go from the window of my bedchamber. A few minutes later Lord Whitney barreled into the room. He had been drinking, and he stormed around knocking things off my dressing table and the other furniture while he shouted at me.”
She rested her head against Kit’s shoulder. “I had to marry Sir Basil, he said, or he would be ruined. I told him I’d sooner die. Then he struck me, hard across the face. It was the first time anyone had ever raised a hand to me, and the blow took me off guard. I remember the stunned look in his eyes just before I fell. By ill fortune, my cheek landed against a fragile bit of ornamental glass, a small flat piece that failed to break when he knocked it onto the carpet. It shattered well enough when I landed directly atop it, though, and the doctor was a long time picking the splinters from my face.”
They sat quietly. Kit stretched out his legs and examined his bare feet, knowing he must not push for answers to his many questions until Diana was ready to proceed.
She ought to have reported the incident to the magistrate, of course. Evidence of physical injury would be grounds for petitioning the court to remove her from her uncle’s guardianship. But even if she were aware of that, which he doubted, she could not have been thinking clearly at the time. He wondered what explanation Lord Whitney had given the doctor who tended her.
“A few days later, when I learned that Sir Basil was persisting in his suit, I wrote to Lucy. My uncle had long since dismissed most of the household staff, including my maid, but the gardener smuggled the letter out and acted as a go-between when Lucy arrived. I was in the habit of walking on the grounds, so it was a simple matter to arrange meetings where we would not be seen. Each time I wore several layers of clothing under my cloak and carried a few possessions in a picnic basket for Lucy to take away with her. She was also searching for a place to hide me, and when she located this cottage, I contrived to escape.”
She sighed. “There was a great deal more to it, you may be sure. The entire process required the better part of a month, and even I don’t know the half of what Lucy was up to during that time. Until she met Robbie MacNab, who encountered her walking along the road and offered her a ride in his wagon, she was proceeding entirely on her own.”
“And she found you an excellent refuge, I must say. But you cannot be comfortable here for any extended period of time.”
“No. The cottage is too near my uncle’s estate, for one thing, and I know he is looking for me. Indeed, he has posted a considerable reward for my return. Eventually someone will think to look here. We must leave as soon as may be, but we’ve nowhere to go and very little money to sustain us. I have no access to my inheritance, and Lucy has already spent most of her savings to bring us this far. She has written to Miss Wetherwood, the headmistress at the school where we met, and we have some hope that she will assist us. I can pay her back when I come of age, and she was always fond of me.”
Kit had no great liking for this uncertain solution to their problems. He could do far better. But now was not the time to say so. “Where did Mrs. Preston run off to this morning, by the by?”
“Lancaster. Miss Wetherwood was asked to send her reply to the inn where Lucy stayed when she first arrived. We had no idea where we’d wind up, you see. Perhaps we’ll have an answer today. And she has other business there, but I think she would not approve if I spoke of it.”
Diana gave a short laugh. “As if she won’t be furious enough when she returns to find that you have discovered the cave. And me.”
“You mustn’t worry, butterfly. I can handle Lucy.” He managed to say that with a straight face. “Need I tell you again that you may safely trust me, or have you begun to believe it?”
She twined her fingers through his. “In fact, sir, I am convinced of it. Persuading Lucy will not be easy, but we are two against one. We must take care not to offend her, though. She has—”
“I understand completely,” he said, squeezing Diana’s hand. “Leave her to me. Meantime you are growing goose bumps, m’dear, and I rather expect you haven’t had your breakfast. Shall we go upstairs, build ourselves a fire, and get better acquainted?”
Her eyes widened. “I nearly forgot, Kit. Robbie is coming here this morning.”
“Ah. To make certain that I keep out of trouble, no doubt.” He stood, still holding her hand, and drew her up.
“Too late for that!” she said with the first real smile he’d seen from her. “He will be vastly surprised to find us together.”
Kit led her in the direction of his horse. “Jason looks to be in fine fettle, if a trifle bored.” He rubbed the muzzle that pushed at his shoulder. “Don’t care for being tethered in a cave, do you? I can’t blame you a bit.”
; “I’ve gone out to cut grass for him with my scissors,” Diana said, “and Robbie brought a sack of oats. Those must be parceled out, though. Oats are too rich for him to eat a great many at any one time without becoming ill.”
“You know about horses, I take it.”
“A little. I do love them. More than anything else I have left behind, I miss Sparkles. She’s a pretty chestnut mare with lots of spirit. I do hope my uncle doesn’t sell her off.”
“If he does, we’ll see you get her back.” He resolved to make sure of it. Diana had little enough to cling to, after all.
When they came to the stairs that led up to the cottage, Kit sent her ahead of him and took time to study the trapdoor and what lay below it. If he had found the entrance to the cave, so could anyone else.
Something must be done about that.
Chapter Seven
Lucy was unsurprised when the Lancaster-to-Lakeland coach turned up at the posthouse already chock-full of passengers. The entire day had been one disappointment after another.
A light rain had begun to fall, and she had left her umbrella at the solicitor’s office. She realized that she had forgot it when she was only a short distance away, but wild horses could not have dragged her back to reclaim it.
“You’ll have to ride up here,” the driver told her impatiently. “Hurry it up, ma’am. We are running late as ’tis.”
“I’ll help you mount,” the postilion said. “How far will you be going?”
“Warton.” She gave him the coins she had already counted out and let herself be pushed from below and pulled from above until she was balanced precariously atop the Lakeland Flyer. Scrambling to a spot between two large portmanteaus tied to the coach with ropes, she had barely settled herself when the horses sprang forward.
Two men in rustic garb were seated at the rear, passing a bottle back and forth. One caught her eye and held the bottle in her direction. “A tot of whisky, ma’am? It’ll warm your innards on this cold afternoon.”
For a moment she was tempted. A little oblivion would be welcome right about now. But it was a long walk from Warton to the cottage, and the merest swallow of hard spirits invariably rendered her tipsy. She smiled at him. “Thank you, sir, but no. I appreciate your kindness.”
And she did. Of late, what with Kit and the smugglers and the repellent solicitor, she was grateful for the slightest favor. Almost as unwelcome as Kit’s presence in the cottage was the crumpled letter in her satchel. It had been waiting for her at the Anchor Inn that morning, a few lines of terrible news that multiplied the problems she already confronted.
The new headmistress at the Wetherwood Academy apologized for opening Miss Preston’s letter, but she was unable to forward it. Miss Wetherwood had died a few months earlier, and since her fellow teachers served as her only family, they had taken it upon themselves to respond to any correspondence directed to her. Naturally they were sorry for their former student’s plight. Miss Whitney’s uncle had already made inquiries regarding her current location, and the headmistress promised to say nothing about Miss Preston’s letter if approached with further questions. She conveyed her best wishes and her regrets that she could be of no help finding a safe place for Miss Whitney to reside.
It had been a mistake, Lucy reflected, placing all her hopes on Miss Wetherwood—God rest her soul. But who else was there? She could leave her employment, of course, and find a place far from Lancashire to hide out with Diana. For a few months they could scrape by in frugal lodgings, but then her savings would run out. More than half had already been spent to get them where they now were.
But the cottage at Cow’s Mouth was no longer secure. She had purchased a copy of the Lancaster newspaper, and sure enough it carried a notice of a reward being offered for the missing heiress. That notice would continue to run, she would wager, until someone tracked Diana down and claimed the five hundred pounds.
The steady rain, little more than a drizzle, seeped through her black kerseymere dress. Beneath the felt bonnet and veil, her brown wig was already sodden.
When Diana wrote of her troubles, Lucy had thought herself capable of handling the situation. Indeed, she had felt an uncommon surge of anticipation at the prospect of a genuine adventure. Were the stakes not so high, she might have enjoyed the challenge and the chance to escape her humdrum existence for a short time. Indeed, she thought with a pang of remorse, there was a brief period in the beginning when she had actually enjoyed putting her imagination and wits to the test. She had felt positively exhilarated at her successes.
But in the end she had failed. Or was so near to failing that it made no difference.
The two men who shared the top of the coach with her had turned their backs, dangling their legs over the side and occasionally swigging from the bottle. While they were paying her no attention she raised the veil and tilted her head to the oyster-colored sky, letting the rain cool her face.
It was Diana who would pay the price for her failure. Why had she been so sure of herself? What might she have done that she failed to do?
Well, it never paid to look back, she supposed. Regrets could suck all the life and hope from a body. And it wasn’t as if she could give up, call it a day, and retreat to Dorset. She had taken responsibility for Diana. She was stuck with that decision for the next two years. And she’d make the same decision if she had it to do again, so what was the point of gnashing her teeth about it?
She leaned back against a portmanteau, closed her eyes, and prayed wordlessly for divine help.
“Warton!” the driver called, jolting her from a restless half sleep.
Lucy rubbed rainwater from her lashes and peered through the heavy drizzle. Good heavens, was that Robbie standing beside the coach, his arms raised to help her alight? But why in blazes was he here? He was supposed to be at the cottage, standing watch over Kit.
“Whatever has happened?” she asked as he set her on her feet
“The cat’s from the bag,” he replied laconically. “Come along, lass. The wagon’s in the stable. I’ll tell you the rest when we’re on our way.”
Knowing that he would speak when he’d a mind to and not before, she waited until he had steered the pony onto the muddy road before plucking at his sleeve. “I cannot endure this a moment longer, Robbie.”
“Aye. Well, ’tis a brief tale. Your smuggler found the trapdoor this morning. Miss Whitney has told him the whole, or enough so as he knows who she is and why she’s gone to ground.”
And so much for the efficacy of prayer, she thought glumly. “Where is he now?”
“Still to the cottage when I left. He was building something or t’other. Sent me off to Silverdale for planks and hammer and nails. When I got back, he told me to fetch you so as you wouldn’t have to walk.” Robbie chuckled. “The laddie likes to snap out the orders, he does.”
“And you took them like a sheep? By now he may have hauled Diana away and turned her over to the magistrate.”
“If I thought he’d a mind to that, I wouldna left him alone with her.”
Lucy swallowed her first several reactions and released only a sigh. What was done was done. At length she patted Robbie’s hand. “There was a letter at the Anchor Inn, but the news isn’t good. The lady I applied to for assistance has gone to her heavenly reward, I’m afraid, so there will be no help from that quarter.”
“And from a solicitor?”
“Nothing. It was a disaster from beginning to end. The first three I approached turned me away, because I look poor, I suppose. And the fourth was a horrid little man, with greasy hair sleeked back like paint and dirty fingernails. I disliked him on sight, but he agreed to answer questions for ten minutes at no charge, and I was growing desperate.”
She grabbed Robbie’s arm as he made the turn onto the rough track that led to the cottage. “I made up a story, of course, to explain why I was in search of information about the rights of a legal guardian over his ward. The solicitor appeared to know little of such matters.
Practically nothing, in fact. Instead of giving me answers, he kept asking more questions about my mythical younger brother. Specifically, he wanted to know where my brother lived and prodded me to bring him to the office so that he could take up his case. By then I knew he was useless, if not dangerous, and took my leave.”
“Well, lassie, it’s been a busy day all ’round. Now we’ve your smuggler to deal with. You want me to take him into Silverdale?”
“I must speak with him, of course. But when he learns about the reward, he will almost certainly try to claim the money. We dare not risk turning him loose until Diana and I are gone. Could you hold him at the cottage for perhaps twenty-four hours? That will give us time to catch a mail coach and be miles away before he finds a constable.”
“Away to where?”
“It doesn’t matter. The point is, we must leave here immediately.”
Robbie frowned. “I can shackle him for a time, but I expect Miss Diana won’t like it.”
“He has charmed her, I can readily believe. He’s a knack for it, and she knows nothing of the world, let alone worldly men.”
“I ken she had a hard lesson from her uncle,” Robbie said. “As for the smuggler, hauling a load of spirits across the sands don’t make him the devil.”
“Nonetheless, he is assuredly a thief, a liar, and a lecher. He cannot be trusted. The pattern is unmistakable. When we arrive, please conceal yourself until I give you a signal. He won’t be suspicious if he thinks you gone and himself alone with two helpless females.”
Robbie subsided into a dour silence.
She’d a fairly good idea what he was thinking, though. For all that she was eight years Diana’s senior, she knew little more about men of the world.