Page 65 of A Taste of Miss Honey

Mama’s breath hitched as she stroked Angel’s thick black hair. “I know. But he loved you like he never loved another. Not me, certainly,” she added with a soft laugh. “I was a disappointment to him. But you… oh, my dear, he was so very proud of you.”

Angel raised her head, her dark eyes meeting pale blue. They were nothing alike. Black Jack had married their grandmother some years after Jenny had died, and Mama had her looks, with her English rose complexion and light brown hair. Not like Angel. She had Black Jack’s dark, dark eyes, his raven hair, and his spirit too.

“Pirate blood,” she said with a sniff.

Bending to kiss her forehead, Mama gave a little laugh. “Indeed, though don’t ever say that in front of your papa.”

Angel scowled. “He’s pleased,” she said, feeling a swell of anger and resentment.

“Your father fears what society would say if they knew, that’s all. He feels safer now, more secure.”

“He won’t,” she said, her tone rather snide. “Not when he reads the will. There’s nothing left, Pops told me so.”

Angel turned to Mama, who smiled wryly. “I know it. But yes, no doubt it will come as a shock to him. We will have to sell this great, ugly pile and go back to Hampshire where we will settle back into our old home.” Angel laughed, knowing this suited her mama down to the ground. She missed her old friends, had never wanted to live in this lavish house, but had done it to please her father and her husband. For once, Mama might get what she wanted, and Angel was glad for that, at least.

Mama took Angel’s face in her hands. “Don’t mourn the old devil too long, Angel. He won’t thank you for it. He wanted you to live your life to the full. Don’t let him down now.”

She kissed Angel’s cheek, pressing a lavender-scented handkerchief into her hand, and left her with a sweet smile as got up and closed the bedroom door behind her.

Angel wiped her eyes and went to the window, staring out at the sea, spread out in a vivid carpet of blue as a weak glimmer of sun shone for what seemed the first time all year. How Jack had loved to gaze out to sea. His eyes would get that faraway look that told her he was lost in memory, and he would tell her wild tales of the places he had seen and the adventures he’d had. As if he was beside her once more, Pops’ voice whispered in the back of her mind, reminding her of her promise.

Well, you listen good, my pretty little bird. When I’m gone, you’ll fly away from home, and you’ll find where Jenny lies, and there you’ll find my treasure.

Angel smiled, her thumb throbbing as she thought of the knife pricking the tender flesh. A blood oath was sacred, binding; nothing but death could break it. Her breath caught, then she laughed suddenly, her heart leaping with anticipation. Edenbridge, he’d said. That was where Jenny had come from, and that was where Angel must begin.

It was reckless and dangerous, never mind scandalous, for a woman to travel alone, but Angel was not just any woman. She was Black Jack Baxter’s granddaughter, and any villain thinking to get the better of her had better think again.

“All right, you wicked old pirate, I hear you. I’ll keep my promise,” she said aloud, and hurried downstairs to find a map.

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 30th March 1816

Clara’s heart thudded too hard in her chest as she made her way up the imposing driveway that led to Hatherley Hall. She had never got this far before. Four times she had left her aunt’s house, intending to come to the Hall to play the piano, as the duke had told her she might. The first time she had changed her mind before she’d even reached the garden gate and taken Benny for a walk instead. The second she had diverted at the last moment and gone to the Valentine Tearooms, and the last time she had made it to the gates of the grand house before her courage had deserted her.

This time, she would do it. She smiled down at Benny, who, trotting at her heel, gave her courage.

“I don’t know if they like dogs,” she warned him. “You may have to go the stables and wait for me.”

Benny yipped and sneezed vigorously, as if this idea was too appalling to contemplate.

“Well, we shall see.”

Today, she would not be diverted for anything. Not after the terrible realisation that she would have to admit to the duke she had been too afraid to take up his kind offer the next time he visited his grandmother. There would be no prevaricating or denying it, either. The wretched man seemed to know what she was thinking and would certainly call her out on a lie if she tried.

Clara made her way up the steps to the grand front doors but was saved the daunting task of making her presence known, for as if by magic they opened, and the butler appeared.

“Good day to you, Miss Halfpenny. His grace instructed me you might call upon us. Might I take your hat and cloak?”

Fumbling with fingers not entirely steady, Clara handed the articles to him, fervently wishing they were not quite so shabby. Somehow, they seemed uglier than usual, set against the splendour of her surroundings. Howard handed the items to a footman with the same care he might show to a queen’s finery and turned back to her.

“If you would be so good as to follow me, I’ll show you to the music room.”

Clara stammered a word of thanks, a little taken aback by the warmth of his welcome, as she had always found Howard to be an intimidating fellow. He led her across the grand entrance hall, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor. The sound of Benny’s claws tapping on the stone wore upon Clara’s nerves until she bent and picked him up.

“Y-You don’t mind my bringing Benny?” she asked, wondering if Howard had failed to notice him.

The butler turned back to her with a smile. “No, Miss Halfpenny. Her grace adores animals, as does the duke. His grace especially asked me to make the little fellow welcome.”

“He did?” Clara’s voice was a squeal of astonishment.