“Perhaps,” Gabriel said, though the word sat uneasily. His gaze lingered, measuring distance as if deciding which consequence to accept. “The tide will be high within the hour.”
“And the storm sooner,” Lady Eastbury said. “We are going in.”
They turned back, wind pressing at their backs now, rain beginning in earnest. The cottage door closed on the weather with a grateful thud. Fire snapped in the grate. The housekeeper set tea and bread on the table, promising a hot stew if the chimney behaved. Lady Eastbury removed her bonnet with a decisive tug.
“Plans,” she said, the word as practical as flint.
They took to the dining table like a council, Lady Eastbury at the head, Leticia and Gabriel opposite each other, a map of the coastline unrolled between them. Raindrops pattered on the slate above, a counterpoint to the crackle of fire. The cottage had seen a hundred such councils before, floods, harvests, and winter aid, and lent its confidence to this one.
“Tomorrow,” Gabriel said, tracing a finger along the cliff line, “I’ll take the upper path at first light and watch the cove from the ridge. Felix should reach us by midday if the roads hold. We’ll speak to the innkeeper, and I’ll see if Jasper Pierce’s name loosens any tongues.” Helooked to Leticia. “You and your aunt will remain here. If anything stirs, send word by the housekeeper’s boy and do not go down to the beach.”
Leticia met his eyes evenly. “We will not go down to the beach.”
He nodded, as if the repetition bound the promise.
Mrs. Benson entered to lay the cloth and set the spoons. Rain found a seam in the window and spattered the glass. The fire offered its ordinary cheer, but it did not settle Leticia. The storm’s voice pressed close against the panes, and beneath it she felt the faint hum of purpose, a wheel beginning to turn.
Gabriel rose and crossed to the window, watching the black seam of the cliff. “He was down there for a reason,” he murmured, more to himself than to them. “And if the storm covers his tracks, we’ll lose them.” He reached for his coat.
Leticia stood. “You mean to go after him now?”
“Not far. Just to see if he’s still there.” He took up a lantern. “If anyone is foolish enough to be on the cove in this, I’d like to know why.”
Lady Eastbury’s tone softened under its reprimand. “Take care. And if the wind shifts, you come back here.”
“I will.”
Leticia tightened her shawl, the words pressing against her teeth. She was not his wife, but they had an arrangement, a partnership neither named yet both honored. “Be quick,” she managed.
He looked at her, truly looked, and it did something complicated to her lungs. “I will,” he said again, and she had to let him go.
The door opened to noise and cold, and the peculiar brightness of a night that intends a spectacle. The lantern’s glow faded into the dark like a swallowed star.
They listened. Waiting could be loud, the pop of a knot in the fire, the faint clatter of a spoon, the tick of the clock’s brass rod. Outside, the storm gave the sea a voice, and the sea roared itself hoarse againstthe headland.
Ten minutes stretched into fifteen.
Lady Eastbury stood. “He is taking longer than a quick check.”
“He is,” Leticia said, and went to the door before deciding to.
They stepped onto the threshold together. The wind whipped the hem of Leticia’s gown against her ankles and flung salt to her lips. Lightning split the eastern sky in a white-hot gasp, and in that instant, the cove became a stage for two figures struggling on the slick lip of rock, one driving the other back, both a slip from death.
The dark closed again. Thunder followed, late and outraged.
“Back,” Lady Eastbury said, already moving. “We will not stand wringing our hands. Do something useful.”
Leticia knew before her aunt spoke what that was. Her father’s room, untouched by time, and the drawers as he’d left them. She had run across those boards as a child and knew exactly where the long case lay at the back of the wardrobe. The oiled cloth. The weight, heavier than a pistol, steadier than panic.
Her body remembered what her mind did not stop to consider. The measure of powder, the tamping of shot, the feel of a weapon balanced for the shoulder. Her father’s voice echoed beside her.You will not be an idiot about danger, Letty. If you must be near it, at least be clever.
In the front room, Lady Eastbury had already set the lantern low to keep its light from betraying them.
Another flare. This one closer. Gabriel reeling as the other’s fist caught his jaw, the cliff edge three steps away. The dark man raised a rock two-handed, taking aim.
Leticia stepped into the doorway, braced the butt to her shoulder, and let the world shrink to sight, breath, and the memory of her father’s steady voice.Squeeze. Don’t pull.
The shot cracked the storm clean in two.
