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MARGARET RUSHED TOWARD the coast. Her long locks toppled from their position, and she secured her cap with her one hand, lest it decide to flit into the channel, confusing the fish with its abundance of lace and ribbons. Dark strands flew across her face, controlled more by the wind than by Margaret’s coiffure skills.
She avoided the dukes, sprinting hastily past them, not desiring to enter into another uncomfortable conversation with them. The leaves of the chestnut trees rustled in the wind, and birds chirped.
Were it another day, Margaret would have been content to search for birds and record the features of birds she did not recognize in her notebook.
But this wasn’t a normal day, nor was it a normal weekend.
Today she was near the very coast where the most intriguing fossils in England had been discovered. The fossils resembled crocodiles. In fact, they didn’t even look so dissimilar from huge birds. The fossils seemed to be of a completely new species, as if strange large creatures had once swam and strode along England’s coast.
The chestnut trees disappeared. Long strands of grass covered the ground, accompanied only by the occasional daisy. Margaret quickened her pace, wanting to immerse herself into this new world.
Finally, the English Channel appeared before her. Azure waves lapped against a tawny-colored beach. Fluffy clouds zigzagged the sky, as if to marvel at the area’s beauty, rather than because of any plans to force water down upon it.
Birds chirped and sang, and wildflowers swayed in the breeze.
She was here.
Mary Anning had discovered large, intriguing fossils not far from here. What creatures had roamed this coast?
Margaret approached the cliff’s edge. A path curved onto the beach, and she followed it, winding her way until she reached the shore. She settled onto the sand, listening to the waves. The sun shone brightly, casting everything into a golden light. She removed her gloves and touched the sand with her fingers. How lovely it would be to explore this coast thoroughly, to see if she could find anything similar to what Miss Anning had found.
There wasn’t time for that now. She shouldn’t even be here. Mr. Owens had made that fact clear, even if the area seemed lacking in typical dangerous qualities. No port was nearby, swarming with sailors eager to revel. Threats of Frenchmen invading had long ago diminished. There was no storm descending, forcing the tide to grow higher and to surge quickly over the shore. She wouldn’t be dashing into one of the caves for shelter.
No.
Margaret could simply enjoy herself.
“Miss Carberry?” a male voice jolted her from her thoughts, and she jerked her head around.
She blinked toward bright light, masking the figure.
“I’m sorry to startle you,” a baritone voice she recognized said.
Her heart flew: it was the duke.
She scrambled up, slipping on the sand, and he caught her in his arms.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Quite well, Your Grace.” Her voice squeaked. At some point, her breath seemed to have left her. No doubt, it preferred lingering about him.
Now that she stood, the light no longer masked him. Rather, it illuminated his broad shoulders, chiseled face, and exquisitely tousled hair.
She touched her throat.
“I shouldn’t have disturbed you,” he said, and his cheeks seemed a tawnier color than before. “I wondered when you went off on your own.”
“I’m quite happy on my own,” she said.
“But you don’t need to be.”
“No,” she admitted, and she found herself smiling. “I simply wanted to see the coast.”
“Ah,” he glanced toward the waves. “It is beautiful.”
“Indeed.”
“You are an admirer of beauty.”
She hesitated. He expected her to agree.
“I am,” she said, “but I’m also an admirer of fossils.”
“Ah. But of course. Mary Anning, correct?”
“You heard of her discoveries?” For some reason she was surprised.
His lips twitched. “I am not solely concerned with festivities.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“Though...” He looked down. “It is possible that I first heard about her at a party.”
She giggled, and his eyes sparkled.
Fiddle-faddle.
She averted her gaze, lest he catch her staring.
It would be easy to linger her eyes on the manner in which the sunlight played in his hair, turning some of his tousled locks caramel.
The thought was hardly original to her. Other women remarked on the man’s attractiveness, as they strove to determine which Greek God he most resembled.
“Discovering the bones of huge, ancient creatures,” the duke continued. “Quite extraordinary.”
“Indeed,” she said, finding herself beaming.
“I’ve read that perhaps these fossils are remnants of large elephants that the Romans may have brought to Britain when they conquered the country.”
Margaret frowned. “I have heard that theory.”
“Yet you’re not a proponent of it?”
“The fossils do not resemble elephants.”
“They are large.”
“That is not the only trait elephants possess. In fact, there’s a similarity with birds I find fascinating.”
He turned to her sharply. “So these creatures had feathers?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that. But they may have at times strolled on two feet.”
“So less similar to Lily.”
“Precisely.”
They strode along the coast, chatting about the implications of the discoveries. The sun continued to shimmer golden beams, the waves continued to sparkle with the force of diamonds, and the grass and wildflowers continued to sway elegantly under the wind.
“You must speak of your theories to Ainsworth,” the duke remarked.
“Ainsworth?” Margaret’s shoulders sank. For a blissful few moments, she’d managed to forget about the house party.
The duke nodded. “Ainsworth is most intellectual. He will find your ideas fascinating.”
“You didn’t give the impression of finding my ideas dull.”
“N-Naturally not. But he will understand them more. He understands everything.”
Margaret averted her gaze, lest the duke see her frown. She was certain the duke was much more intelligent than he seemed to think. Emma had told her that when he’d accompanied her future husband to the continent that the duke had been in possession of excellent language skills.
“Much like elephants are not the only large creatures, I suspect the Duke of Ainsworth is not the only intelligent duke.”
He furrowed his brow. “You mean Brightling? He is quite the expert in flora and fauna.”
“I meant you.”
The duke’s cheeks grew ruddy. “No one says that.”
“Perhaps they should.”
He looked at her curiously, and Margaret’s heart trembled. She shouldn’t go about complimenting him. Compliments might make him think that perhaps she held him in overly high regard. He’d arranged this entire event so he would not be saddled with her in the future.
“Perhaps I will speak with the Duke of Ainsworth,” she acquiesced.
“Good, good,” he said, but his voice seemed to lack its customary force, and Margaret wondered whether her feelings were already too clear.
She adopted a faster pace so they might reach the castle more quickly.