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Chapter Five
Calliope had to hold on to her bonnet with one hand, and her skirts with the other, as the wind was whipping harder the closer she came to the bay. It might have had something to do with the Cobb, the stone wall that had been built as a barrier around the coastal section of the town to protect the occupants against the fierce storms that blew in from the Channel. She was particularly glad she had decided to grab her velvet pelisse when she’d told her maid where she was heading. It might have started to become warmer farther inland, but the ocean breeze slapping her in the face carried a decided chill.
She noticed that there weren’t many people about as she drew nearer to the strand. She spied a trio who appeared to be a mother and her two young children playing in the sand. She would find no governesses about here.
Calliope continued walking and found that the crash of the water upon the rocks was a rather comforting sound. She paused for a moment and watched the white foam caps burst into the air, before they returned to the earth and were swallowed up by the sea once more. She smiled to herself, deciding that she might discover she liked it here.
As she kept walking, she spied another couple out for the day. It appeared to be an older gentleman in a three-wheeled chair and a man who—
She squinted her eyes against the water’s spray and shielded her focus from the glare of the sun. If she didn’t know better, from this distance she might have thought that towering figure was familiar. But she discounted that notion as soon as it surfaced, as there was no possible way that Lord Blakely would be here. The similarities could surely be explained by some sort of illusion.
Or else her mind was attempting to play a terrible trick on her.
She looked away to gain her equilibrium, but her attention was quickly drawn back to the man and his companion. It appeared as though they had switched course and were now heading back toward the village, which meant that they were coming closer to where she stood.
At this point she was blatantly staring, but something about the scene just didn’t…look right. While there was a blanket covering the older man’s legs, there was no mistaking the quality of the chair he sat in. It was not the sort that one might find in a seaside village, but rather in a place like Bath, where the aristocracy preferred to go for their health.
She glanced once more at the man pushing the contraption and realized that the greatcoat flying out behind him was made with equally fine material. Even from a distance, it wasn’t difficult for her to spy a tailored fit. She had pored over the best fabrics that money could by the moment they had arrived in London and knew quality when she saw it.
And as the distance continued to close between her and the two gentlemen, she started to feel a sudden sense of unease. It wasn’t until her brain finally accepted the sight of that familiar, sandy hair and the broad, wily grin that the viscount wore so well that her fists clenched at her sides.
When he drew to a halt a few feet from her with an easy greeting, she could not stand for it. She immediately strode forward and demanded, “What are you doing here?”
The viscount didn’t have time to reply before in the chair admonished, “That’s no way to talk to a viscount, young lady. He should be addressed as my lord.”
Calliope gritted her teeth and turned her glare on him. “I might use a different adjective when it comes to Lord Blakely, sir, but perhaps I should begin by introducing myself.” She offered the slightest of curtsies. “Lady Calliope Bevelstroke.”
“Hmmph,” he snorted, as if he wasn’t impressed. “One of Marlington’s gels.” He narrowed his glare on her. “And which unfortunate wife did you come from?”
Her mouth promptly fell open, and she heard a sigh come from behind the chair. “Now who’s being rude?” the viscount noted with a decided drawl.
The man wore a proper scowl and spoke as if she wasn’t even standing there. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to know about the chit. Besides, it isn’t as if everyone doesn’t know about the ‘Black Widower’—”
Calliope could hold her tongue no longer. She held out a hand. “Let me stop you right there.” She retrieved their attention, as two pairs of eyes swiveled back to her. “None of my father’s wives were unfortunate, but proper duchesses and deeply cared for while they were alive.” She lifted a brow in challenge. “It sounds to me as if you put too much stock in those gossip rags that used to enjoy shredding my family to bits. And not that it’s really any of your concern, but my mother was the third.”
The old man eyed her sharply. “As I suspected,” he retorted. “You’re still barely fresh from the schoolroom, and yet, you have no problem dressing down one of your elders. Didn’t your governess teach you any manners?”
She set her hands on her hips. “Did yours?” she countered. “For a man of your advanced years, perhaps it would benefit you to comport yourself with a bit more kindness so that a sharp-tongued girl like me doesn’t have to remind you of proper comportment!”
Calliope was fuming, eager to know what he had to say to that, but a gust of wind abruptly caught her bonnet and whipped it from her head and sent it sailing through the air. With a cry of alarm, she started to chase after it. The rest of her coiffure quickly went tumbling about her shoulders, but her only thought was to rescue her poor hat before it disappeared beneath the crashing surf.
She had nearly caught it as it bounced on the sand a couple of times, and then the wind current lifted it back into the air. With a mumbled curse, she continued the pursuit, until it finally landed softly on a rock. Breathing heavily from her exertions, she reached out to grasp the trailing ribbons when a larger hand came into view and retrieved it before she could.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” The viscount dangled the straw from his fingertips with a sly tilt of his lips. “Or perhaps you might prefer to chase after me instead?”
“Give me that!” She snatched the bonnet from his grasp and nearly crushed it within her clasped fist. “What are you doing in Lyme Regis?” she hissed. “Have you sunk so low that you have resorted to harassing me now?”
He laid a hand over his heart and stumbled back a couple steps. “You think I am that zealous in my quest for you?” He tsked. “I hate to break it to you, my lady, but I’m here because of my grandfather. His gout decided to flare up and he wished to take the waters by the sea, as opposed to fighting the crowds flocking to Bath.”
She wasn’t convinced. “But why choose Lyme Regis out of anywhere else along the coast?” She pointed down the beach with the bonnet still in her grasp.
He chuckled and leaned in closer to her. The deep timbre of his voice caused a sudden swirl of heat in her midsection, which she firmly pushed aside. “I don’t believe you own the town, which makes it free for anyone to visit. You may not be aware of this, but we have come here several times in the past.” He straightened and shrugged his shoulders. “If anything, I might ask why you are here, when you could have chosen any number of places for your seaside exploration.”
She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. “You knew I was coming here, and for what purpose. I—” She broke off and shook her head. “I don’t have to explain myself, and neither will I stand here and argue about this. How about we just agree to stay on opposite sides of the shore while we’re here?”
“I can’t promise that.” He grinned broadly. “Wither my grandfather goest, I shall go too.”
Throwing her hands up in disgust, Calliope strode away from him. Her desire to dig for fossils that afternoon heading out with the tide.
