Page 46 of A Potion for Passion

But this evening, there was a light. It was already cloaked by a grey haze—whether it was the mist of drizzle or a surge of spray, she couldn’t tell at this distance.

“Oh, sir, there looks to be a ship out there!”

“Don’t worry,” Reverend Daniell said as he settled onto his seat and took up the reins. “They look like they’re far enough out to miss the rocks. So long as no one tries to lure them in with false lights, they’ll be fine. I’ll pray for their souls as we go along.”

Mrs. Daniell cleared her throat. “That is a very large cap you’re wearing under your hat, Flora. I assume you plan to remove it when we arrive?”

Flora had no such intention, but her attention was still fixed on the seaward horizon, which was getting darker by the second, reducing the small, swinging light to a mere pinprick in the gloom.

“False lights, sir? Surely, no one would do so horrid a thing?” she asked as the carriage lurched into motion.

Reverend Daniell negotiated the first bend in the road, then looked over his shoulder to say, “I doubt anyone would dare lure a ship in to wreck it. Not with the militia at the fort, on watch for Bonaparte’s invasion fleet. The beach is under constant surveillance, especially after that ring of traitors was caught and dealt with last year. For who can say that Boney won’t send more spies here to find him a safe landing spot?”

Mrs. Daniell made an impatient movement. “Pray watch where you’re going, sir,” she chided, and the clergyman turned back to his driving, muttering under his breath. Whether he was voicing imprecations against his wife or praying for the souls of sailors, Flora couldn’t tell.

With a sigh, she resolutely turned her gaze away from the sea and folded her hands in her lap.

For some time the silence was broken only by the sound of a blackbird battling to make his song heard in the heavy air, and the regular clatter of the horses’ hooves.

“If any sailors or fishermen are hurt in the storm,” Thea pronounced after a few minutes, “Dr. L. E. Campaign will have a cure to make them right again.”

Mrs. Daniell gave a derisive snort.

Flora’s blood went cold. Raising her head, she frowned at Thea, but the girl’s face was all wide-eyed innocence. Forcing a false laugh, Flora asked, “Whatever made you think of him?”

“Because he is back in Fortuneswell. We saw him yesterday, didn’t we, Mama, making all those ridiculous claims. But I do love his dog. It’s very entertaining.”

“I hope he won’t be foolish enough to take the hound out on the heath tonight,” Mrs. Daniell remarked. “Though I doubt such a charlatan can have much common sense.”

Flora fought the urge to fly to Lawrence’s defense. She didn’t care about him anymore, so why should she defend him? And he quite clearly didn’t care about her. She took a deep breath and asked, “Why should he not walk his dog on the heath?” There was no longer any threat from the so-called Horseless Highwayman, who’d turned out to be Lord Beckport, Charlotte’s new husband, in disguise and working for the crown. And with the traitorous smugglers all rounded up, the heath ought to be safe.

“Well, if there’s a shipwreck,” Mrs. Daniell answered, “the heath and the beach will be crawling with soldiers, to stop the common folk plundering the vessel. Armed soldiers. In the dark, they’ll probably shoot at anyone. Even an innocent dog.”

Reverend Daniell looked over his shoulder again. “My dear, you are over-dramatizing the situation. No one who’s attended my sermons is likely to enrich himself at the cost of another. They know it’s against the Lord’s will. If there’s a wreck, the villagers will keep well away.”

“I’ve heard,” said Thea, leaning forward in her seat, “that some people will just watch poor sailors drown and not help them, because if they rescue them, they’d interfere with God’s will. God might then take their lives instead.”

A long discussion ensued about what constituted God’s will, but Flora didn’t join in. All she could think about was Frank’s doomed body, gradually sinking into the depths, taking all her hopes with him.

Suddenly an image of Lawrence’s expressive face replaced the dismal vision. He was flashing her his wicked, feral smile, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. She bit her lip. Lawrence was so full of life, so full of the joy of life. How could she bear it if he were to meet with an accident on the heath tonight? It was as much as she could do not to tell the reverend to turn back at once and take her home.

But what could she do, once there? She’d have to change out of her weighty shepherdess costume and put on something more practical, by which time it would be too late to warn him, anyway. And even if she reached Fortuneswell in time to stop him walking Charley on the heath, he’d probably just laugh at her and go, anyway.

Sitting up straight in her seat, she pressed her lips together and tilted her chin. She was damned if she would let her fears for that ungrateful reprobate ruin her evening. Fears which were almost certainly groundless.