James caught himself smiling as he remembered Eva’s awe in looking over the rings. Lawrence had a gift with metals and gems and an eye for beauty. But James thought it was more than the gleam of gold that had fascinated her.
He’d felt the weight of those rings as well. These weren’t rings designed to match a gown that would be out of style next Season. They weren’t produced to proclaim a person’s position or pedigree. Wedding bands spoke of commitment, promised forever.
He’d always wondered if the earl would allow him even the choice of a bride or if he would order him to marry a particular lady for the good of the family. Never had he considered that, if the choice were his, he would not be marrying for love.
Yet there was something about Eva. That sparkle in her eyes, that conspiratorial grin. His father had feared James would go too far in his determination to protect his friends and family from the earl’s predations. His mother had abandoned him for London. His role as magistrate often kept the rest of the village at a distance. Quill followed his own star. It had been a long time since James had felt he had a friend, someone who would stand beside him, no matter the cost.
What, was he succumbing to the sentimental? Loving anyone had never been safe. If the earl knew of it, he would use the person against him. Or remove her from his life forever as he’d done with Felicity.
He opened the door of the magistrate’s house to find Pym hopping from foot to foot in the entryway, as if the marble tiles had suddenly grown hot.
“Oh, good, you’re back,” he said, rushing forward. “I didn’t know how much longer I could keep him from going in search of you.”
His gut clenched. “The earl is here?”
Pym washed white. “Certainly not. I would have gone in search of you in that case. No, it’s Captain St. Claire. He’s in your study. Mr. Priestly promptly claimed business elsewhere.”
“And my mother?” James asked, turning toward his study.
“Went down to the market to inspect the goods on offer herself,” Pym said, scurrying along beside him. “I will not be surprised if she returns with a cook as well. She feels cooking isn’t my place.”
“Discuss the matter with her if she returns,” James instructed him, hand on the latch of the study door. “Keep her busy until I’m done with the captain.”
“Of course.” Pym quickly withdrew.
James went into his study and shut the door behind him. Seated in James’s chair, booted feet on the desk, Quill saluted him with a glass of lemonade. “Hail the conquering hero. I understand your trip to London was successful and congratulations are in order.”
“A change of accommodation is in order,” James countered, coming around the desk. “Move.”
Quill tsked as he lowered his feet and rose. “If this is how you react to your impending nuptials, I shudder to think how well you’ll respond to wedded bliss.”
“What do you need, Quill?” James asked.
His friend ambled around the desk and studied the chair on the opposite side a moment before deigning to sit. “There was a fire at the castle while you were gone.”
“Eva told me,” James said, taking the seat Quill had vacated.
“Did she also tell you she roused the militia to deal with it? And let Denby into the castle proper? Gave me and my men a good few moments of concern, I can tell you.”
“I imagine it might have. I went up last night hoping to find you.”
“We won’t go over again until next week at the earliest,” he said. “But I thought you should know that we may have a bit more insight into your mysterious visitor.”
Pulse quickening, James leaned forward. “Oh?”
“We weren’t the only ones at sea the night of the fire. We nearly ran afoul of another vessel coming in toward the cliffs. I can’t be certain because it veered off, but it looked to be making for the Dragon’s Maw.”
James frowned. “Other smugglers?”
“Too small to be very profitable, and I never caught sight of a larger vessel that night before spotting them. No, I fear it was the enemy.”
He swallowed. “French spies?”
“It’s a distinct possibility. It would explain why someone would be so bold as to enter an occupied castle, not once but twice. Leaving evidence behind jeopardizes the lives of hundreds of French soldiers when military intelligence is involved.”
“The code we found,” James agreed. “I left a copy with the War Office, as you instructed. They did not give me the impression they intended to be forthcoming.”
“Well,” Quill said, leaning back, “there is a war on.”
James shook his head. “A war you and I are willing to help fight, if we are given the information we need to do so. As it is, perhaps you’d better relocate your efforts. The earl was determined to make Eva pay, so I didn’t bother asking him to bless our union. Once the marriage becomes known beyond Grace-by-the-Sea, I could well lose all access to the castle and the maps and ledgers in this office. That would make me of little use to you.”
“Never, my friend,” Quill assured him. “In fact, with you being out from under the earl’s thumb, you could be of even greater use. Come with us next run. Take the news to Whitehall. You and Majestic can move faster than most of my men and with fewer questions as to why you might feel a sudden desire to visit the metropolis.”
His shoulders felt lighter, as if a burden had lifted. “I may take you up on that offer, particularly if I’m replaced as magistrate.”
“You think the earl would go so far?” Quill asked with a frown.
“I think he’ll go farther,” James told him. “I merely suggested he might ease up on Eva, and he ordered her most precious possession sold. I was able to get word to Thorgood to purchase it anonymously, so I hope Eva won’t lose it in the end. But I have no doubt the earl’s punishment for our marriage will be swift and harsh.”
Quill nodded in understanding. “So that’s why you brought your mother home with you. You’re trying to spare her the lash too.” He raised his glass again. “When this is over, I hope you can finally stop having to play the martyr.”
“So do I,” James said, but he had a feeling that day was a long way off.
~~~
Linus Bennett wished Miss Faraday good afternoon and watched as she traipsed from the spa, dark curls bouncing. Their conversation had been the first one approaching normalcy since he’d arrived in Grace-by-the-Sea last evening.
He and Ethan had barely settled their things at an inn called the Swan when the Spa Corporation had descended upon them en masse. He wasn’t sure how they’d known of his arrival. Then again, word might travel faster in a small village than it did in London.
“Welcome to Grace-by-the-Sea,” Mr. Greer, the president, had declared. Linus had only corresponded with the fellow, yet he wasn’t surprised to find him tall and lean, with sandy hair that was receding and a way of thrusting his head forward. The beginning signs of a degeneration of the spine, perhaps?
“I regret that you may have to stay at the inn for a day or so,” Greer continued. “Your cottage should be ready shortly.”
Linus glanced at his son. The nine-year-old was sitting on the bed, brown eyes weary but watchful. Ethan tended to keep his thoughts to himself. Linus was never sure what was going through his mind. And it was of no little concern to him.
“I’ve already informed Miss Chance and her aunt that they must be out by tomorrow evening,” Mrs. Greer assured Linus with a glance at Ethan. He would have called the look more curious than motherly. “They don’t have much, so it shouldn’t be any bother.”
“On the contrary,” one of the board members said, standing taller, “it is a great deal of bother, with nothing to gain from it.”
“Yes, yes, Miss Archer,” Mr. Greer said with a sigh.
Greer might have been president, but this lady had far more presence. Hair the color of bruised ginger protruded from her straw bonnet, and there appeared to be a speck of blue on one cheek. Curious. He found himself studying it a moment, trying to determine its source. Not a natural mark of her complexion. Not for effect—he was heartily glad the fashion for false spots had faded. Paint?
She must have caught him looking, for she frowned at him. “I must protest again that we are depriving Miss Chance and Mrs. Tully of positions in which they have served faithfully and well. I, for one, doubt a physician can take their place.” She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she could see every last flaw in his character.
“We have discussed this and voted,” Greer reminded her testily. “You are overruled.” He looked apologetically to Linus. “I mentioned the matter of additional spa staff to you in my letters, sir. You had indicated you needed no assistance.”
Greer had asked him about other staff, but Linus had taken the question to mean they were considering partnering him with another physician. If he was to share patients, he needed to choose his colleague. Not everyone had the same philosophy of care, the ideas of how to treat an illness.
“I’m sure we’ll muddle through,” he had told the board members.
Miss Archer had scowled at him.
So had the only person to join him in the spa that morning before Miss Faraday had arrived. Greer had given him the key, and he and his wife had come to the Swan to walk Linus to the spa. For now, Linus had left Ethan in the care of the innkeeper’s wife, a temporary solution he would have to remedy as soon as possible. Other lads might be on their way to Eton or Harrow at that age. Linus had no intention of separating himself from his son. Bad enough that Ethan no longer had a mother.
He hadn’t been sure what to expect of the spa. He’d visited Harrogate and Scarborough. Both had become more social center than medical facility, and Bath was even more famous now. Would he find crowds of aristocrats here, who came to drink only to appear fashionable or people who truly needed a physician? Assembly rooms or examining rooms?
The spa at Grace-by-the-Sea was all he could have wanted. The pale blue walls and view to the sea welcomed patients into tranquility. The fountain stood ready to dispense the waters on his prescription. Examining rooms across the back offered reclining couches, the latest instruments and medicines. His head had risen, his breath come easier. This was going to be his place, his home.
The gentleman who’d arrived shortly after the Greers had left seemed to think otherwise. He’d been a long-limbed fellow with rheumy eyes and a pasty complexion, and Linus had immediately begun considering what he might do to effect a remedy.
“I am Warfield Crabapple,” he’d announced, as if the name should mean something to Linus. “I’m a Regular at this spa, but I will only continue my subscription if you reinstate Miss Chance and her aunt immediately.” He blinked and stepped back, as if astonished by his own temerity.
“Thank you for letting me know,” Linus said. “I hope to make the acquaintance of Miss Chance so I can resolve what is evidently a misunderstanding.”
He drew himself up. “A misunderstanding? You sacked her, sirrah. None of us take that kindly. Good day.”
It was clear Miss Archer and Mr. Crabapple expected him to give the spa up, hand it back to those who had managed it before him. None of them could know how important this position was to him, how badly he and Ethan needed a new start. And so he would fight—for the spa, for the village he hoped to call home, and for the son he had nearly lost.
~~~
Eva had to tour through part of the village before she located Jesslyn and Maudie in Abigail’s gallery, All the Colors of the Sea. The former spa hostess was admiring the painter’s latest creation, a canvas showing the castle with a turbulent sea below and a single light gleaming.
“I call it Hope in the Storm,” Abigail was saying as Eva came up to them.
“I call it excellent,” Eva assured her.
Jesslyn and Maudie turned. Though both smiled in welcome, Eva could see dark shadows under the younger woman’s eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well.
“Thank you,” Abigail said. “I’m holding a sale, Eva. Everything in the shop is half off, and I will use the funds to mount a crusade to remove Doctor Bennett from his position.”
Jesslyn shook her head. “Please, Abigail, I wish you wouldn’t. It’s hardly his fault.”
“No, indeed,” Eva put in. “I was just up at the spa. It’s empty, and he seems sincerely distressed by the fact. Yet I doubt he has any idea why or what to do about it.”
Abigail snapped a nod. “Good. Perhaps he’ll rethink his decision to oust others.”
“We should consult the trolls,” Maudie said. “They know how to deal with such matters.” Her eyes narrowed as if she was considering a dark fate for the poor physician.
“He didn’t oust anyone,” her niece reminded them all. “Mrs. Greer hasn’t appreciated me taking over for Father. I’m sure her attitude influenced her husband in making this decision. Besides, the spa is the lifeblood of this village. We wouldn’t want to poison it. Too many other livelihoods are at stake.”
Maudie brightened. “Poison?”
“No,” her niece said emphatically.
“Is the spa the chief employer, then?” Eva asked.
“In a way,” Jesslyn said. “A few families are directly involved. The Inchleys cater, Mr. Ellison provides baked goods. But many more derive income from those who come to visit.”
“Mrs. Kirby, the leasing agent,” Eva realized.
Jesslyn nodded. “And the inns and shops like Mr. Carroll’s and Abigail’s. And any excess income not required for maintenance or improvements goes into the corporation’s profits to be divided among every family in the village on a quarterly basis.”
Her father would have been impressed. “An excellent arrangement,” Eva said. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to ruin it. Perhaps someone should explain the matter to Doctor Bennett.”
Abigail shuddered. “Better you than me. I can barely stand to look at him.”
“All pock and warts?” Maudie asked. “With a hooked nose and a humped back?”
Eva laughed. “No, indeed. I found him rather charming.”
“He is tall and well favored,” Abigail allowed. “But his goodness may well be only skin deep.”
“Time will tell,” Jesslyn predicted. “And now we’ve monopolized your time quite enough, Abigail. Eva must have business.”
“Actually,” Eva told her, “I was looking for Maudie. I had a couple of questions about the wedding.”
Maudie nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“It was very sweet of you to ask Maudie to be your attendant,” her niece put in.
Maudie frowned. “Who else was she going to get? The fairies are busy.”
So was Eva. She managed to determine what else Maudie might need to stand up beside her and went on to attend to a myriad of other details. But before she knew it, the day of the wedding had arrived.
Mrs. Howland shooed James out of the house that morning at dawn so Eva could prepare.
“We have until half past ten before we must be at the church,” Eva protested when Mrs. Howland came for her as the clock struck five. “It won’t take me that long to dress.”
“Nonsense,” her soon-to-be mother-in-law insisted, waving at Patsy to open the curtains. “You must be bathed in lavender water, have your hair washed in essence of roses, and apply the Wash of the Ladies of Denmark.”
“Never heard of that one,” Patsy whispered to Eva.
Mrs. Howland must have heard her, for she nodded eagerly. “It’s a wonderful concoction made of bean flour; seeds of the cucumber, gourd, and melon; and fresh cream.”
“I’ll smell like the grocer’s,” Eva whispered to Patsy, who giggled.
Still, soaking in the warm, fragrant water wasn’t unpleasant, though she decided against the vaunted Wash of the Ladies of Denmark. And while Patsy rinsed her hair in the essence of roses Mrs. Howland supplied, instead of the apple vinegar Eva usually used, the black tresses still stuck out around her face.
“It certainly has a mind of its own,” Mrs. Howland said when she bustled back in to check on them. “Have you tried wax?”
“No,” Eva said with a stern look to Patsy. “I like the curls.”
“Perhaps more organized curls,” Mrs. Howland said, meeting her gaze in the mirror with a hopeful smile.
“I’ll do what I can, ma’am,” Patsy promised.
Somehow, Eva survived the pulling and crimping, the lacing and the dressing, until the three of them stood before the Pier glass mirror in Mrs. Howland’s room.
The Misses Pierce had outdone themselves with the gown. The simple, square-necked bodice was edged with lace and made her skin look creamy. The rich color brought out the depth of her eyes. Her hair had been tamed into a closer nest of curls that framed her face. She looked soft, sweet…
“Beautiful,” Mrs. Howland said.
Patsy nodded, eyes bright.
“He won’t know who he’s marrying,” Eva predicted.
And she wasn’t sure who she was marrying.
She stood with Maudie in the narthex of St. Andrew’s. Every pew was filled, and she’d had to walk through other villagers as she’d come from the carriage to the church. It wasn’t every day the local magistrate married.
And my, but the magistrate looked fine.
His golden hair was waved back from his face. His shoulders in the black coat were straight and true. Those white stockings outlined powerful calves. He glanced back at her.
Their gazes brushed, locked, and she knew. He was as certain as she was. This was meant to be. Every butterfly in the manor garden fluttered into flight inside her.
Maudie nudged her. “Don’t we have to walk?”
Eva shook herself. Mr. Wingate, the vicar, was nodding to them.
“You go first,” Eva whispered to Maudie.
Maudie frowned. “Why? I’m not marrying him.”
“You’re the attendant,” Eva explained. “You are the most important person after the bride. And you have such a pretty dress to show off.”
Maudie preened. “It does look rather fine. Perhaps I’ll dress in purple from here on.”
With a satisfied nod, she set off down the aisle.
Eva followed her, past the Greers, Abigail, Mr. Carroll and the Ellisons. Past Lord Featherstone, Mr. Crabapple, Mrs. Harding, Mrs. North and her son, Miss Tapper and Mrs. Baugh. Past Jesslyn and Larkin Denby. They were all smiling, all encouraging. Like horses harnessed to a chariot, the butterflies inside her pulled her heart up into her throat.
Maudie moved in beside Captain St. Claire, who was wearing his naval uniform. “You should have worn purple,” Maudie informed him.
Eva’s gaze was on James. That smile said he had been waiting for this moment, for her. She barely heard the minister perform the ceremony, nodded and responded as required. A few more moments, and they would be forever united.
And free.
“And such are the duties of a husband and his wife,” the vicar finished with a pleased smile. “All ye of the parish of St. Andrew’s, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Howland.”
Eva and James turned. Everyone was beaming at them. Mrs. Harding had her head on Mr. Crabapple’s shoulder, and the fellow was doing his best to stand up under the pleasant burden. Abigail was grinning from ear to ear. Farther back, Pym, Yeager, and Patsy were nodding with pride.
The church door banged open, and the Earl of Howland stormed into the space to plant his feet, greatcoat swirling and eyes blazing.
“Stop this marriage,” he ordered. “I forbid it.”