In other circumstances, he might enjoy a pretty miss clinging to his arm, staring up at him in breathless wonder.Even if he couldn’t see her expression in the darkness that now engulfed them.As he patted her arm again to reassure her, he brushed against his pocket which held the folded page of secret code.The paper made a soft crinkling sound, reminding him that she was hiding something.Perhaps more than one thing.
What could it be?Something to do with the friend she was meeting on the beach, perhaps?Idly he wondered how long it would take the footman to notice Miss Walden was no longer on the beach, and how he’d react.
The closer they got to the cellar outside the kitchen, the more her grip loosened, until she let go completely when they saw light under the door.
Mrs.Bickford did not bat an eyelash when they entered her kitchen from the tunnel.“Mrs.Digby has just requested tea in the library, Miss.”
Miss Walden snatched one of the tiny rout cakes from the tray Mrs.Bickford was arranging and popped it in her mouth.When she closed her eyes and gave a quiet moan of delight, Vincent had to stare at the pans hanging from hooks to control his unruly thoughts.“I’ll put my cloak away and join her.”Without glancing at Vincent, she snatched another cake on her way out.
Mrs.Bickford faced Vincent, a large spatula in one hand, her other propped on her hip.“I suppose you want to snitch one of your aunt’s favorite cakes, too?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”He leaned down to kiss her weathered cheek.“I’m a growing boy.I need at least three.”He grabbed three of the sweet, rich rout cakes, gave her a bow, and climbed the stairs to the main hall, the sound of her chuckle following him.
Another subject in which he and Aunt Gertrude were in perfect harmony: the best part about crowded and stuffy London routs were these little desserts.
Busy tossing the cakes in the air and catching them in his mouth, he almost missed the last one when he heard Kendall greet someone who had just arrived at the front door.
“Matthew?”Vincent stared in disbelief at his friend Matthew Huntley, who was handing over his coat to the butler in the doorway.
“There you are!”Matthew shoved his hat and gloves toward Kendall, shook his head to get the hair from his eyes, and hauled Vincent in for a back-pounding hug.They stepped aside to make room for a footman carrying a trunk toward the back stairs, followed by Matthew’s valet.
“Were you in a race?I did not expect to see you until tomorrow at the earliest.”He led his friend to the drawing room and poured a small glass of brandy for each of them.
“My trunks were already packed and loaded on the coach when your invitation arrived,” Matthew said.“I was minutes away from leaving Town.Since it didn’t matter where I went to escape the gossip, I came to Sidmouth.”He drained his glass.“Where are your aunts?Doing well, I hope?”
“They will both be very happy to see you.What gossip?What have I missed?”
They continued catching up as Mrs.Nelson showed them to the bedchamber where Matthew’s things had been taken.Vincent tried not to be annoyed by the fact it was the same bedchamber Matthew had stayed in many times before, while Vincent was currently relegated to a room at the end of the hall.If he wanted to see the Channel instead of the stables, he had to lean out the window and turn his head.He had been away too long indeed for Gert to assign him this room.Did Miss Walden stare out at the waves before falling asleep in his usual room, as he so often did?
He pictured her in the same flannel night rail she’d been wearing the night he surprised her with his arrival.The stripes had faded to almost nothing, and the fabric looked soft from being washed a thousand times.Still couldn’t be as soft as her skin.Did she ever leave her hair loose, or was it always neatly braided?He tried to picture her with that thick, dark brown hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back, to no avail.
Vincent finally realized Matthew was snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Am I boring you?You looked like you were a hundred miles away.”
Not a hundred miles, or even one mile.Just thirty feet down the hall.
Vincent forced his attention back to his friend and his newfound circumstances.
* * *
Everyone gathered in the drawing room before dinner.
“It is so good to see you again, Mrs.Digby,” Matthew said, bowing and dropping a kiss on Aunt Gert’s hand.“I vow, you seem to be aging in reverse.”
Instead of letting Matthew go, Aunt Gert tugged him closer and knitted her brows together in a frown.“How many times do I have to tell you, young man?”
Matthew grinned and dropped a kiss on her cheek.“It is good to see you, Aunt Gertrude.”
“Much better.”
Aunt Agnes cleared her throat.“And what am I over here, yesterday’s fish?”
Matthew hustled over to kiss Aunt Agnes on the cheek.“You appear to also be in the pink of health, madam.”
She gave him a light slap on his forearm.“You’re a liar, but a handsome one, so I’ll let it go.”Was that a blush stealing across the old gel’s cheeks?
Vincent noticed Miss Walden in the doorway, looking uncertain.As she began to turn away, he called to her, and drew her farther into the room by the expedient measure of tucking her arm through his.“Matthew, I don’t think you’ve met Aunt Gertrude’s scribe, Miss Sophia Walden.”Vincent watched for her reaction.Womenalwaysreacted to Matthew, from the greenest girls to jaded widows.“Miss Walden, this is Mr.Matthew Huntley.We’ve been friends since Eton.”
