A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(31)
Author: Tessa Dare

Susanna took her arm. “I knew I liked you, Minerva. You’re absolutely right to protect your sister, and I should not have described my work that way. No more than you should say you ‘dabble’ in geology. Why is it that we women so often downplay our accomplishments?”

“I don’t know. Men are always boasting of theirs.”

“Too true. Let’s boast to each other, then. I’ve made a careful, scientific study of apothecary for several years. I make remedies for many of the visitors and villagers, and I have solid, scientific reason to believe that in a breathing crisis, the contents of that vial can do your sister some good.”

“In that case, I trust your expertise.” Minerva smiled. “Now for my boasting.” With a glance toward the other ladies, she slowed. They’d fallen well behind the main group now. “Can you keep a secret? I am the first—and only—female member of the Royal Geological Society.”

Susanna gasped with delight. “How did you manage that?”

“By neglecting to tell them I’m female. I’m just M. R. Highwood to them, and all my contributions are made through written correspondence. Fossils are my area of specialty.”

“Oh, then you are in exactly the right place. These chalk hills are filled with strange little nuggets, and the cove—wait until you see the cove tomorrow.”

They went quiet for a while as the way grew steeper, and narrower—so that they were forced to walk single file.

“There’s the castle.” Up the path, Charlotte stood on her toes and waved her growing posy of wildflowers in the direction of the ruins. “It’s so romantic, isn’t it? With that backdrop of the sea.”

“I suppose,” Susanna said, keeping her own eyes on the ground. She knew very well what a picturesque sight it made, but she’d been trying to keep castles and romance in two distinctly different, tightly corked bottles on her mental shelf.

“Your turn, Miss Finch,” Minerva whispered, following close behind. “Don’t you have your own secret to tell?”

Susanna sighed. She did have a secret—a scandalous, explosive secret that involved Lord Rycliff and kisses in the armory and a great many emotions she couldn’t sort out. She wished she could trust Minerva with it. But men and fossils were different things.

They rounded a bend in the path and nearly collided with the other ladies. They’d all stopped in their tracks at the edge of an overlook, staring down in mute wonder at the valley below.

“Cor,” said Violet Winterbottom. “Isn’t that a sight?”

“Just look at them all,” Kate Taylor breathed.

“For heaven’s sake, what is it?” Susanna asked, pushing to the fore. “Did Mr. Yarborough’s cows escape again?”

“No, no. These are beasts of a different sort.” Kate grinned at her.

Sounds floated up to Susanna’s ears. Halting, erratic drumbeats. The shrill squawk of a fife. The impatient whinny of a horse.

Finally, she got a look.

The men. There they were, down on the flat meadow just north of the castle bluffs. From this vantage, it was difficult to distinguish any of the men as individuals. She could not have singled out Mr. Fosbury or the smith. But Bram, as usual, stood out from the crowd. This time, not merely because he was the tallest and his coat the brightest, but because he rode on horseback, giving him the advantage of height to gauge the formation’s precision. As they marched, he directed his mount to circle the group, giving direction from all sides.

He looked very capable and strong and active. Which was unfortunate, because those were all the qualities she found appealing in a man. She’d never grieved over her disastrous London season because the gentlemen had been such disappointments. So idle and useless. She found it so much easier to respect people who did something.

Violet shaded her brow with her hand. “It doesn’t seem to be going very well, does it?”

Kate laughed. “They keep doing the same thing. Just a single line, marching back and forth. Over and over. From this end of the meadow to that. Then they stop, turn around, and do it again.” She looked to Violet. “How many times now?”

“I stopped counting at eight.”

“We shouldn’t be watching them,” Susanna said.

“Why not?” Kate looked at her. “Aren’t they meant to be preparing a field review? A public display?”

“Just the same, let’s continue on our walk.”

“Actually, Miss Finch,” Diana said, “I’m feeling a bit winded. Perhaps a rest would do me good.”

“Oh. But of course.” Unable to argue, Susanna spread her shawl and took a seat on the hillside. All the other ladies did likewise, and no one even bothered to pretend that gathering wildflowers or spotting birds would be the purpose of the moment. They all stared, riveted to the meadow below and the new militia’s halting, sorry drill.

Susanna worried. She’d agreed to keep her ladies apart from Bram’s men. The physical distance separating them at the moment didn’t allay her concerns. Being this far removed only made the ladies feel free to gawk and gossip.

“I recognize that bright green topcoat. That must be Mr. Keane.”

“You would think his sense of rhythm would be better, what with all the singing in church.”

An elbow dug into her side. “Lord Rycliff’s dismounting, look.”

Susanna resolved not to look.

“He’s taking the musket from one of them. Perhaps he means to show them himself just how it’s done.”

Susanna renewed her resolution not to look. The blades of grass beneath her fingertips were more interesting by far. And lo, here was a fascinating ant.

A female sigh. “What’s that small, fluffy thing trotting at his heels? Some kind of dog?”

Drat it, now she had to look. A broad smile stretched her cheeks. “No. That’s His Lordship’s pet lamb. The dear little thing follows him around. He’s named it Dinner.”

All the ladies laughed, and Susanna laughed with them, knowing how it would vex Bram to be teased. Odd—and a bit disconcerting—how she felt so confident predicting his reactions. For that matter, how she kept thinking of him as “Bram.”

“Oh!” In a gesture that strongly recalled her mother, Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart. “They’re removing their coats.”

“Not only their coats.”

As the ladies all sat gawping in silence, the men halted their exercise and removed first their coats, then their waistcoats and cravats.