Bexley blinked. “Barrington? The same man from—?”
“Yes.” Weld reached into his inner coat pocket and drew out a gold medallion etched with double Bs, Barrington’s Brigade. A calling card. A reckoning. “Bring him this. He’ll know what to do.”
Bexley paled slightly but nodded. “At once.”
Rowland’s father had given his life to the mine, as had generationsbefore him. And now, it demanded more still. Weld turned back to the cliffs. His military life waited for him in London, his father lay in the earth, and the mine, his mine, was killing men in his name. He let out a breath. Enough.
The wind howled across the hills, and the new Earl Hawkesbury did not flinch.
*
The wind chasedGeorgina up the front steps, tugging at her skirts like a child reluctant to let her go. She let herself inside, closing the door against its grasp.
“There you are,” Eliza Langford, Georgina’s close friend, said as Georgina removed her gloves. “I feared the cemetery might have swallowed you whole. We nearly lost two vicars that way. One to melancholia, the other to scandal. But that’s another story.”
Georgina managed a faint smile as she unpinned her hat. “It did try, but I managed to escape its clutches.
“What news, or should I say gossip, do you have to share?” Georgina asked as Mrs. Hemsley, the Ravenstock housekeeper, set down the tea tray.
The parlor at Ravenstock Manor bore the marks of years spent in quiet respectability. The upholstery had faded to soft hues of moss and cream, the once-vibrant curtains now gentled by the sun. A scattering of porcelain figurines perched along the mantel, relics of an earlier age, their glossy surfaces dulled. A stack of correspondence waited on a small table near the hearth, neatly bound with twine, the tidy habits of a woman determined to keep her affairs in order.
The fire crackled low, its warmth just enough to ward off the autumn chill, and the scent of beeswax polish lingered in the air. Mrs. Hemsley had, as always, prepared the room to welcome a guest, but it was Georgina’s quiet presence that filled the space, lending it a sense ofdignity the furnishings alone could not provide.
“The town grows restless,” Eliza added more soberly. “There’s talk of shortages. The bread from Thwaite’s had nearly doubled in cost since Michaelmas. With several of the mines idle and wages unpaid, the women queued at dawn for half-loaves and onions. They’ve been trading eggs when coin ran thin. And for those who are fortunate enough to be working, there’s been no improvement in wages.”
“No improvement, and no end to accidents, I imagine.” Georgina tucked her gloves into her hat, passed them to Mrs. Hemsley, settled into a seat across from Eliza, and began pouring tea.
“Lord Hawkesbury is the latest victim. His funeral was this morning.” Eliza smoothed out her skirt.
Georgina froze as she was about to hand Eliza her tea. “Lord Hawkesbury? I thought I had seen Alexander Weld.”
Eliza removed the tea from Georgina’s grip. “Where did you see him? You only arrived yesterday.”
“I had no idea.” Georgina’s voice was barely a whisper. She and Alex had known each other in Sommer-by-the-Sea as well as in London. He had gone off to war the year before she married Rowland.
“Where did you see him, Georgina?” Eliza leaned in to catch her friend’s attention.
Georgina glanced at her and took a breath. “He was at the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?” Eliza teased. “How perfectly dramatic. If only we had a storm to complete the picture.
“There is some exciting news.” Eliza changed the subject. “Honoria Bainbridge is making a decision on her wedding gown. She is on the verge of pulling her hair out over the guest list. She received a message from Barrington’s brother, Lord Edward, instructing her, not asking, mind you, that she include Michael Dane, the Viscount Albury.” Eliza folded her arms. “She had no idea why the Chief Liaison to the East India Company needed an invitation.”
“Has Lord Barrington come about, or did Honoria finally give him an ultimatum? It must be almost fifteen years since they became an item. I should give her kudos for remaining independent.”
“Apparently, half the village wishes to attend, and the other half insists they’ve been scandalously overlooked, even though no invitations have been sent. And that’s not even mentioning those from London. I still think it’s wonderful. Those two make a wonderful pair. Everyone should be as fortunate.”
Georgina didn’t say a word.
“Oh, forgive me.” Eliza placed her hand gently on Georgina’s arm. “How unfeeling of me.”
Georgina patted Eliza’s hand. “There is no need for an apology. “My marriage was one of practicality and friendship. Rowland was a wonderful man in many ways. He gave his life to his miners.”
She stood and crossed to the window, gazing out over the rooftops of Sommer-by-the-Sea. A breeze stirred the gold-edged leaves beyond the glass. “Even the air feels different,” she murmured. “Autumn always brings change.”
“It always does,” Eliza replied, joining her side.
*
