His mouth tilted, not quite a smile. “I will endeavor to be less foolish.”
“That would be a welcome novelty,” Lady Eastbury said briskly. “Now, I will eat, because storms are best met on a full stomach. Lord Ashcombe, you will sit until that bleeding stops. Leticia, bring another candle. The corners of this room have gone gloomier than I like.”
Leticia lit a second taper. Rain drummed steadily on slate and sill.Beyond the glass, the cove waited, invisible but present, like an audience holding its breath.
She sank into the chair opposite Gabriel. “Tomorrow,” she said again.
He inclined his head, the candle catching the faint outline on his jaw.
“Tomorrow,” he said, and this time it sounded less like a promise and more like a vow.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The storm hadpassed, but the sea moved heavily under its memory. A gray swell rolled in from the horizon, throwing brine into the wind and shoving the small fishing boats against their moorings. The air carried the remnants of thunder, salt and iron, restless and alive. The path to Lammer Cove dipped steeply toward the water, lined with scrub grass and gorse that rattled dry seed pods in each gust. Sea spray beaded on Leticia’s lashes while the tang of it clung to her tongue. Below, gulls wheeled low over the tideline, their cries sharp against the steady boom of surf.
Leticia kept her skirts clear of the damp ground, one gloved hand on Lady Eastbury’s arm. Gabriel walked slightly ahead, his coat collar turned up, the set of his shoulders sharp against the pale sky. He moved with that quiet readiness she had come to recognize—the tension of a man who expected danger but refused to name it. Every few steps, he glanced over his shoulder, whether to check the footing for the ladies or to see if anyone followed, she could not say. The habit steadied her. He noticed things. He always had.
“This is a ridiculous place to arrange a meeting,” Lady Eastbury said. Her hat was pinned against the wind but still tilted. “One would think your Mr. Pierce might choose somewhere indoors. A tearoom, perhaps. With scones.”
“Pierce does not take tea,” Gabriel said without turning. “He’s more comfortable in places where no one listens closely.”
“Which is exactly why we brought Lady Eastbury,” Leticia said,giving her aunt a quick smile. “You can talk loud enough for all of Sommer-by-the-Sea to listen.”
Her aunt’s sniff was drowned by the crash of a wave.
They rounded a rock outcrop, and the cove came into view. The tide had drawn back, leaving slick ribbons of kelp along the sand. A single man stood near the waterline, cap low over his brow, coat flapping open in the wind. He looked worn into the shore, weather-worn, all angles and salt.
A crabber with a creel slung over one shoulder came stumping up the shingle. His boots left dark ovals where the water licked in and withdrew. He tipped his cap at Lady Eastbury, eyes flicking to Gabriel and back. “Storm’s thrown odd things ashore this week,” he said, as if to no one. “Odd folk, too. Strangers askin’ after paths that aren’t their business. Best keep to the upper track when the sea’s got its temper.”
“Sound advice,” Lady Eastbury said crisply. “We brought our tempers with us, but we shall try not to let them meet.”
The crabber’s mouth curved, almost in a smile, as he trudged on. Leticia watched him go, a stitch of dark wool against the pale seam of shore. She had the distinct sense that the land itself was listening, holding its breath between gusts. A prickle lifted along her neck that wasn’t from the wind.
Pierce turned as they approached. His eyes flicked to Gabriel first, narrowing, to Leticia and Lady Eastbury. “You brought company.”
“They insisted,” Gabriel said. “This is Lady Eastbury and her niece, Lady Salisbury.”
Pierce gave a stiff nod. “I remember your father,” he said to Leticia. “He could handle a boat.”
“Do you remember my mother, too?” Leticia asked, searching his weathered face for recognition. “She loved the cove.”
A brief pause. “Aye,” he said at last.
The single word was like a stone dropped in deep water.
“I remember,” he added.
“Reckless to bring a lady here in weather like this,” Pierce muttered, as if speaking to himself.
The wind whipped her skirt, tugging at her shawl. She caught Gabriel watching her before he turned back to Pierce. “You’ve been in and out of town these past weeks,” Gabriel said. “You’ve heard things.”
Pierce hesitated. His gaze drifted toward the far end of the cove where black rock teeth bit into the sea. “Depends on who’s asking.”
Gabriel stepped closer. “The sort of man who doesn’t have time for games.”
Lady Eastbury clucked her tongue. “And the sort of lady who is cold enough to turn back if someone doesn’t start talking.”
Pierce’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “There’s been movement. A man came through two nights ago. Stayed at the Fishman’s Rest. Not his own name. Heavy coat though the evening was warm. Kept one hand covered. Carried something small. Valuable. Never took it out where anyone could see.”
