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“Only once or twice?”
He grinned, and she turned around, climbing the steep path the rest of the way up to the top without the least concern. William had all but announced his interest in this woman and she’d brushed him off like he was a bothersome wasp. She paused at the top, looking over the dark sea and sunless sky.
“I suppose I will see you in church tomorrow?” she asked, her gaze sliding to meet his.
“You shall.”
She smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Goodnight, Mr. Blakemore.”
“Goodnight, Pippa.”
She turned to walk away from him, and he watched her until she reached the edge of the tree-lined drive that led to her house. When she was safely on her own property again, William turned toward home.
His feet squelched with every step as water slid down his legs and filled his boots. By the time he reached his cottage, it was dark and he followed the light from the windows to see. Lily would be long gone by now, thankfully. After Pippa’s warning, William wasn’t sure he wanted to see her so soon. Her little smiles and watchful gazes held much more meaning now.
William let himself into the cottage. He closed the door and kicked off his boots, inhaling the yeasty smell of baked bread.
“Where have you been?” Father asked, sitting on a chair near the fire. The room was sparse of furniture. William needed to order more if they planned to be at the cottage much longer. At present, they only had a handful of mismatched chairs and a dusty settee they’d found in the attic with an array of holes in it. There’d been beds enough, but flimsy, old mice-bitten mattresses, and after the feather clouds William was used to sleeping on, these hurt his back.
He lowered himself onto a rickety wooden chair and bent to peel off his sodden stockings.
“Walked down to the beach,” William said. He wouldn’t mention which one, for he didn’t want anything to ruin the peace he’d felt on that stretch of sand. He’d liked seeing Pippa there tonight. In all of his solo walks in the last week, this was the first time he’d happened upon her. He’d hoped to see her before now but had been disappointed until this evening.
He’d chosen that particular beach for a reason.
“Have you found a good place for Jack to make the drop?”
“Do you not already have the location sorted?” William asked, shocked that his father had left any details until just weeks before they were meant to meet his brother.
“We’ll shine the lantern from the peak at Camden Cove,” Father said. “But the hole you dug won’t be large enough for the loot. We need another place.”
“What of the location you used when you lived here before?”
“Donewell Tunnel? It’s caved in. John Caney told me so himself after church last week. You were there.”
William recalled the man’s joke, but he hadn’t realized it was a message. “Is that not the prime location then? No one will think to look there if the place is caved in. Will they not dismiss it as readily as you’ve done?”
Father leaned back in his chair, seeming to consider this. He rubbed his stubbled chin and blew a long breath through his nose. “I see your point, but it’s no use. If it’s caved in, I assume there’s no way to get inside.”
Roger came down the stairs and lounged on the settee, his leg flung over the armrest. “Where’ve you been?”
“Walking again,” Father mumbled. He looked at William. “Keep up your walks. No one will be wary of them, for you’ve already been doing it. Though heaven knows why,” he muttered. “And keep an eye out for a sea cave or something we can use.”
“Wouldn’t you know of every cave or cavern in the area?” Roger asked, skeptical, it seemed, of William’s ability to find a good hiding place. “Did you not live here for half your life? More, even?”
“Earth can move and shift,” Father said. “The tunnel caved, and other places could have done the same. New caves could have formed. I would go out and look myself, but I don’t have the mobility I once did.”
“Which is why we need more men before we can meet Jack,” William said. His brother had an entire crew on that ship and enough contraband to fill this cottage, more likely than not. He was a good businessman, which was why Father had appointed Jack as their French liaison. But even if Jack’s men helped them unload the ship, they needed more men in Collacott to move the barrels. “Roger and I cannot do it all ourselves.”
“I’ll get us more men,” Father said confidently. “We’ll be going to church again tomorrow.”
“Count me out.” Roger leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’ve never been one for sermons or hymns. Too stodgy.”
Mr. Robinson was the least stodgy clergyman William had ever before seen. If he was too boring for Roger, then the man’s aptitude for paying attention was nonexistent.
William waited quietly. He thought for a moment that Father would argue, that he would force Roger to submit. They’d brought the man along to protect him, after all. The least he could do was to play his role.
Or perhaps that was what he was doing, playing the role of the bored fop who couldn’t be bothered with religion—a fop who wore unembellished wool and lived in a cottage.
