Ingenious, underhanded. Exactly like the earl, but for one thing.
“I didn’t realize his lordship needed money,” James said.
She made a face, sunlight picking out her thick lashes. “He borrowed from my father against a harvest he expected. It was lost to poor weather.”
That would not have been enough to dim the fortunes of the Howlands. Yet he could not doubt Eva this time. The earl had been remarkably tight-fisted in recent months. Economizing, perhaps? Had the earl made other poor financial decisions? James’s work only involved the properties in Dorset. Were the others less profitable? Would they lose the acres in Northumberland, the plantations in the Caribbean? How long would the estates in Dorset remain solvent if the earl began bleeding them dry?
“So,” she said, fingers fiddling with the pretty lidded jar on her lap, “what will it be, Mr. Howland? Will you side with the earl, or me?”
There was no question about his answer. He’d been working to thwart the earl since before he’d reached his majority. He rose and offered her his hand. “The earl has no business separating you from your inheritance. You have my support, however much good it will do you.”
She set the jar aside and popped to her feet to throw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you! You cannot know what this means to me.”
And she could not know the emotions careening through him.
Astonishment—it wasn’t often anyone dared hug the magistrate.
Determination—once more he would stop his cousin’s machinations.
Pride—he could still be of use to someone.
And pleasure.
He disengaged. “Do not thank me yet, Miss Faraday. We have a long way to go to defeat the earl.”
“I know,” she said, bending to retrieve her jar. “But between your understanding of him and my tenacity, we will triumph. If we are to be conspirators, you should call me Eva. I shall call you James, unless you prefer a nickname.”
He eyed her.
She giggled. “No, of course not. I should have known. James it is.”
He didn’t argue the informality. It was surprisingly sweet to hear his first name on her lips and said with a tinge of awe, as if he’d done something praiseworthy.
“So, let us discuss this imprisonment of yours,” he said, glancing down the hill but catching no sight of Mrs. Tully returning yet. “The earl orders strict isolation.”
She sobered. “I understand. What do you advise?”
“Some hold that Grace-by-the-Sea is isolated enough,” he told her. “But you’ll find quite a society at the spa. We have Regulars who come for the summer or stay year-round. Irregulars visit occasionally. Newcomers generally come once and for a short time, though everyone generally starts as one.”
“Are there pins denoting the categories?” she asked. “I wouldn’t want to mistake anyone.”
He could hear the humor in her voice. “Perhaps we should create some, especially with Miss Chance leaving soon.”
She nodded. “Miss Archer explained the situation. This physician sounds high handed. Who recommended him, the earl?”
“The Spa Corporation chose him from candidates proposed by the Royal College of Surgeons in London, and I understand it took some convincing to get him to come. Not many want to relocate to the coast these days, not with Napoleon crowding the opposite shore.”
She glanced out toward the sea. “Do you think the French will invade, then?”
James shrugged. “Napoleon would be mad to try it. The weather changes suddenly and capriciously on the Channel, and he must know we’ll be ready for him.”
She looked back at him again, smile turning up. “Spoken like a true Englishman. You may be right. Perhaps whatever he saw when Maudie spied him on the headland dissuaded him. Or it could have been his agent I saw last night.”
He did not want to entertain that notion. “Whoever it was, I dislike the idea of anyone sneaking about my castle.”
Her brows went up, and too late he realized that he had claimed ownership of the earl’s property again. He was only glad to see Mrs. Tully approaching. Her arms were laden with boxes and fabric, and a carpetbag hung off one wrist.
As soon as she reached their sides, she juggled her pile to bend and look under the bench. “Everything all right, then?”
For a moment, he thought he heard a low-pitched squeak in response. Eva must have heard it too, for she started.
Mrs. Tully straightened. “Sounds as if you’ve behaved. Good. Shall we?” She began climbing the path before James could offer to help her carry her load. With one more look at the bench, Eva followed. James waited until they had made the next turning before bending to peer under the bench, but the shadows were too deep for him to make out anything.
Cheeks feeling hot, he straightened and lengthened his stride to catch up to the women.
~~~
The sun felt brighter, the breeze warmer. It seemed Eva had an ally, and it was the last person she might have expected. She took a deep breath, reveling in the scent of crisp brine and sweet wildflowers. Thanks to James Howland, she had every hope of defeating the earl and reclaiming her life.
She glanced at the man who had come to walk beside her as they started across the headland for the castle. Shadows from the leaves patterned his chiseled face, making it look more thoughtful, solemn. Did he never smile?
On a whim, she reached out and took his hand. He glanced at her, brows up in question, but he didn’t protest or pull away. Her heart gave a little skip.
Careful, Eva. The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like her father’s. Look at the ledger. What’s in the debit column? What’s in the credit? Can this man do what he’s claiming, or is he a bad risk?
If only she could be sure.
He pulled away from her as they reached the terrace of the castle. Perhaps he was merely using that hand to open the door for her, but it almost felt as if he didn’t want his staff to notice that he had been holding her hand.
He bowed to her and Maudie. “I have some arrangements to make. I’ll see you both at dinner.”
He was heading for the stairs before she could thank him once more.
“I’ll just take this to my room,” she told no one in particular.
Upstairs, she found that Yeager had brought her other packages, at least the ones that didn’t contain edible items, and Patsy was standing by the bed as if trying to determine what to do with them.
“So, there must be some shopping here,” she said.
“Quite a bit,” Eva replied, going to put the jar on the dressing table. Funny how that made the room seem more like home. “I’ll take you with me next time.”
“Then it’s true. We’re staying.”
She sounded so depressed by the fact that Eva turned to face her. Patsy’s head was down, her shoulders slumped in her black bombazine gown and white apron.
“It won’t be so bad, Patsy,” Eva said. “Mr. Howland is on our side. And it’s only ten months. Then we can return to the bustle of London.”
Patsy heaved a sigh. “Will you bother changing for dinner, then?”
She hadn’t the previous evening. Yet she’d had little hope then, and so much more now. “Yes. Lay out my purple gown and its sash. I feel like celebrating.”
Patsy went to do as she’d bid. Eva had always favored brighter colors, but the countess had wrinkled her nose and declared that young ladies wore pastels. So, Eva had promptly used her allotment of monthly pin money to buy a length of purple satin, purple embroidered gauze, and a sash the color of the fuchsias in Kew Garden. The countess had averted her eyes whenever Eva wore the outfit.
Would James like it?
“I thought you might be moping after that letter the earl sent,” Patsy said as she returned from the wardrobe.
Eva swiveled to let her at the fastenings on the back of her day dress. “Did you see it, then?”
“Not me, but that nice Mr. Pym was telling me about it. His lordship called you ungrateful, headstrong, and ill-disciplined.”
Eva frowned as Patsy pulled the gown off over her head. “Well, that was the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I thought so too,” Patsy said. “But then, he’s allowed to call anyone anything, isn’t he? He’s the earl.”
“Well, there’s only so much he can do now that James has agreed to help,” Eva said.
In the act of closing the back of the gown, Patsy peered around her. “James, is it? Well.”
Eva felt as if the carpet had grown hot under her feet. “It is only sensible, given that we will be working together to stop the earl’s control.”
“So you say,” Patsy murmured, returning to her task.
Eva was quite glad to escape the room.
But as she descended the stairs, she saw that James had come down before her, and he had changed as well. He was wearing a deep blue velvet coat with silver buttons and breeches buckled at each knee, as fine a looking gentleman as any in London Society.
Maudie glanced from Eva to him as Eva came to stand beside them by the long table.
“Well, don’t look at me,” she declared, tugging her shawl up on her shoulders. “All I own is black.”
“And you look very fine in it,” Eva assured her. “Black is always appropriate.”
She seemed to accept that, for she went to take her place at the table. James waited until Eva was seated beside him before sitting at the head. Pym brought a tureen of fish stew with plaice, mussels, and mushrooms. Eva could only hope they did not belong to Maudie’s fairy circle. Yeager followed with baskets of the crusty bread they’d bought in town. James said the blessing before serving them.
“Tomorrow is the Sabbath,” Maudie announced between bites. “Will you allow Eva to attend services at St. Andrew’s?”
James met Eva’s gaze. Now, there was a smile. The sight of it made her feel warm all over. “Eva and I are agreed that she is free to spend her time as she likes.”
Maudie nodded. “Good. Church tomorrow, a review of the troops on Monday, the spa on Tuesday, and the assembly on Wednesday.”
“No engagement with the mermaids?” Eva asked.
Maudie sniffed. “Certainly not. They’re entirely too busy this time of year.”
“And the trolls are unworthy of your company,” James added.
Maudie nodded. “Exactly right. Though I understand they highly esteem you, Magistrate.”
His mouth quirked, but he wisely applied himself to the meal.
Yeager brought out the iced cake for dessert. Eva took one bite of the orange-almond-flavored cake and sighed happily.
“Mr. Ellison’s bakery is one place I could visit daily,” she declared. “Alas, my pin money will only stretch so far. Have you worked out the funding yet, James?”
“His lordship neglected to provide details,” he said. “As you suggested, I intend to send the amount due to his man of affairs monthly. I expect it another month before the earl notices and argues.”
Eva’s conscience pulled at her. “You’re not concerned about spending the earl’s money when he may be in financial difficulties?”
Something flickered behind his eyes. “If he is in such a difficult place, he should have considered the costs before exiling you to my care.”
His care. A flutter started in her stomach. She ignored it.
“Join us in the music room after dinner,” she suggested.
He hesitated. “I have work I should attend to.”
“I’ll come,” Maudie said. “I can play for you.”
Eva swallowed the last of her cake. “I was hoping to play for you both.”
He set down his napkin. “In that case, I will make time.”
That flutter sprang up into her chest, until all of her tingled. She’d rarely played in company other than her father’s. She’d made it a point not to play for the earl again. He deserved nothing of her efforts. Before he’d confiscated her harp, she’d practiced when everyone was out except the servants. Playing for James felt big, important.
Vulnerable.
Yeager hurried ahead of them to light the lamps. She thought fleetingly about pleading a headache, but she raised her chin and marched for the music room. Someone had draped the harp once more in holland cloth. She pulled off the cover. Dust billowed, and she sneezed. Well, that certainly wasn’t the elegant beginning she’d had in mind.
“If you’d take a seat,” she said without looking their way. The whisper of cloth told her they had complied.
She gathered her skirts to sit on the little stool. The harp towered above her, the strings gleaming like strands of gold in the candlelight. She tucked the instrument closer, felt the weight of it on her shoulder. Positioning her fingers, she plucked a few strings. It was well tuned for being little used.
The sound of clapping surprised her, and she glanced over to the little gilt chairs to find Maudie beaming at her.
“An excellent rendition,” she claimed. “Perhaps another.”
She decided not to explain that she had merely been tuning. “Of course.”
Her father had been fond of Edward Jones, the Prince of Wales’s bard, so she launched into an old Welsh melody. In a moment, she was swept away, carried by the song of the harp like a leaf on the stream. The music swelled around her, inside her, brushing away worry, tension. The bright, pure notes filled the room and her heart, leaving her clean.
This time when she finished, both Maudie and James applauded. She met his gaze, basked in the awe, the wonder she saw there.
“I have never heard that instrument played better,” he said. “You are clearly a master at the craft.”
Eva smiled. “Thank you. I hope to be able to play often while I’m here.”
“Whenever you like,” he assured her. He rose and bowed to her and Maudie. “Now, I must see to my work.”
She set the harp upright and rose. “Wait. I have one question before I release you, sir. Will you remain in the castle as well, knowing that I am truly here at the earl’s demand?”
His face tightened. “You have no need for a jailer, but I cannot forget our visitor last night. I would prefer to stay until I know you are safe.”
“Then stay,” she said. “I am free to invite you when the entire castle belongs to your family.”
She thought she heard a chuckle as he inclined his head. “I will do my best to resolve the issue quickly so as not to intrude.”
“Thank you, James,” she said. She watched him walk from the room.
Maudie stood and sidled up to her. “He’s a fine man, the magistrate.”
“And the trolls approve of him,” Eva agreed with a smile.
Maudie nodded thoughtfully. “Still, there’s something he’s hiding.”
The room felt colder. “Why do you say that?”
“They’re always hiding something,” Maudie said darkly, and she stalked from the room.
Eva hurried to follow, but she didn’t have an opportunity to question Maudie further. James had only reached the middle of the stairs. He paused to allow them to proceed him, then accompanied them to their rooms.
“Good night, Mrs. Tully,” he said with a bow.
“Keep your pistol loaded,” she advised before slipping into her room and shutting the door.
He frowned after her, then turned to Eva. “If you see anyone tonight, or sense anything amiss, call for me. I’m a light sleeper.”
Eva smiled up at him. “Why, Mr. Howland, something on your conscience?”
She thought he would deny it, but he merely bowed and headed for his own room on the other side of the landing.
Can you really trust him?
The worried voice seemed to echo in his footsteps, but she knew it was no specter whispering. She shivered and entered her room.
“What do you think of James Howland?” she asked Patsy as her maid helped change her for bed.
“He seems the upright sort,” Patsy allowed. “Mr. Pym appears devoted, which is more than I could say for any of the earl’s staff. They did their jobs from fear, not admiration and respect. But he’s a Howland. None of them have ever done right by you.”
“Viscount Thorgood was kind,” Eva protested as she pulled on her lawn nightgown. “He seemed as reluctant as I was to marry at his father’s command.”
“And how long will he withstand the pressure?” Patsy asked as she took away the purple gown for pressing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up here, ring in hand, pretending to be your hero.”
Was James pretending? Eva shoved away the thought as she climbed into bed. “I can only hope the viscount finds another lady to love, one with a sizeable dowry.”
Patsy shook her head. “No one has a dowry as big as yours.”
She wasn’t sure about that, but she decided not to argue the point. Men had been drooling over her since the day she’d come out, and she had no illusions that they had coveted her talents and charms more than the money.
She lay for a while after Patsy left, listening, but she heard only the usual sounds of a house settling around her. A coal shifted in the grate. The floorboards creaked. From outside came the faint sound of the waves against the cliff. She snuggled deeper under the covers.
Light was peeking under the velvet curtains when she woke to sounds of Patsy poking up the fire.
“Church today,” she told her maid. “I’ll wear the white muslin with the embroidery along the hem and my pink wool shawl with the gold fringe. You haven’t had a day off in a while. Would you like the afternoon to yourself?”
Patsy straightened, broad face beaming. “That would be lovely, Miss Eva. Thank you. I’ve brought warm water. I’ll leave you to it while I go check on Mrs. Tully.”
Eva ventured to the fine porcelain washbasin and pitcher in the corner, but she hadn’t even wet a cloth before Patsy dashed back into the room.
“Miss Eva, she’s gone!”
Eva pulled her wrapper about her with a frown. “Gone? Did I oversleep? Has she already left for services?”
“It’s only half past eight, miss,” Patsy protested. “But her bedclothes haven’t been mussed. I don’t think she slept there. Where could she be?”