Graham said to Cam as they stood on the wide stone steps of King’s Head and waved as both her father and Ryder left in a carriage to the small train station in Dover, “Your father hugged you until I was afraid I’d hear your ribs crack.”
Cam leaned into him as the train disappeared from view. “Ryder hugged you just as hard. They’re both amazing men. You and I, Graham, are very lucky.”
Vereker said from just behind them, “I’ve decided to build the train track from Dover here to King’s Head so both fathers—yes, Graham, I do consider Ryder Sherbrooke to be your second father and he well knows I am forever in his debt—can travel to us more quickly and easily. I should also like to see all Ryder’s children running about, Blakeney chasing after them, and Sophie perhaps making one of her amazing apple pies.” He gave them both a hug and walked back into the manor.
Graham said, “Blakeney told me my father had to meet with two of our farmers to improve a particular drainageditch. He said I was to take you to Sally’s Cove and gave me directions when I looked at him blankly. He wants a return to normalcy, of course, he wants us to continue our lives, leave the past in the past where it belongs. He said now there is no more danger, it is time for us to enjoy ourselves. Evidently this particular cove was a place Simon and I spent a great deal of time in our small skiff, fishing, swimming or sparring about with wooden swords on the beach—or more likely fighting and throwing sand at each other.”
For the first time in too long a time, Cam felt a leap of excitement. There was still too much silence in the great house, still shock and rage, and infinite sadness so clear on all the staff’s faces. But there was less with each passing day. It was true her father and Ryder had lightened everyone’s mood, both gentlemen popular with all the King’s Head people, Terrance and Nutworthy in particular.
Cam gave her husband a smacking loud kiss. “Sally’s Cove, yes, let’s go. I should love that. I’ll wager Blakeney’s hoping it will spark your memory. But it doesn’t matter, I should like to visit a place where you spent so much of your childhood with your brother. When can we leave? Do you know who Sally is or was?”
“Sorry, I don’t, but we’ll ask Blakeney when we return. Go put on some stout boots.” Then he saw the question in her eyes and pulled her into his arms, kissed her hair, held her quietly a moment. He said against her temple, “It’s over, Cam, finally over, there’s no more need to wonder and constantly be on our guard. We will come to accept Uncle Tally was mad with jealousy, wanted what is my father’s. It is time to get back to living and soon”—he kissed the tip of her nose—“I must resume work on my water-tube boiler. Ideas have begun to flood my brain, thankfully, and your father will expect me in London in a fortnight to meet with Lord Carberry to discuss financial matters including the status ofour factory in Manchester, all the hiring we must see to, the machinery—I have other ideas, say how to make the train run more smoothly and—enough of that.
“I will tell you everything in detail later and you will ask me questions and together we will come up with a theorem or two. But now, we’re going to go to this Sally’s Cove.”
Cam didn’t think a theorem applied in this particular situation but she was too excited to care. She hoped soon there would be no more black worn in King’s Head. It was time to bring light back into the house. She gave him a wonderful smile, a kiss and a nod, and ran upstairs to their bedchamber.
Blakeney stood by the front door as they came down the grand staircase, handed Graham a wicker basket bound in leather straps. “It is your lunch, my lord. Ah, there is a bottle of champagne wrapped in ice cloths.” He searched Graham’s face. “I hope you have a pleasant day.”
The day was cool but the sun was high and the wind was thankfully more quiescent than not. They walked hand-in-hand the quarter mile to the coastline and with each step, the day seemed to grow brighter, the future more exciting. When they stood on the cliff edge, they shaded their eyes and looked toward France. The wind kicked up here, tugged at Cam’s braids atop her head. Graham sheltered her against him, pointed. “And there it is, England’s mortal enemy, probably extending back to the invention of writing. It’s always amazed me, the constant desire to want what another has and be willing to fight and die to gain it.”
Cam said, “I wonder how many men have died fighting, how many lives were destroyed, and for what? A piece of land? Making people your slaves?”
He nodded. “Lust for power and possessions, greed for what someone else has, it seems to be bred into a human’s very bones. After Waterloo and Napoleon’s banishment, allhoped there would be no more wars, at least with France, but I’ll wager wars will continue throughout the world to the end of time.” He thought of Uncle Tally, of the man he’d been told he’d been—young and exuberant, wanting adventure and excitement, wanting to make his own mark, and then when the man returned from the devastating three-day battle known as Waterloo, he was someone else entirely. Or was he? It didn’t matter now, Tally was dead, his hatreds and resentments dead with him.
Graham felt profound gratitude he and Cam had found each other. He wondered what they would accomplish together. He kissed her, smoothed her hair in the wind. “Come, let’s explore.”
As for Cam, she was wondering how she could establish a theorem based on observations of his water-tube boiler, but that was for later, now was for them. She said, “Blakeney told me there’s a cave somewhere along here. Do you think we could perhaps visit, perhaps—” Her voice trailed off as she ran her hand down his cheek, lower to his chest.
Graham felt a bolt of lust, always there since he’d first met her sitting on a bench waiting for Ryder to come out of Parliament. He stilled her hand, gave her a nipping kiss on the end of her nose, shoved up her glasses, fingered the gold chain, a very neat solution he wished he’d invented, not Lady Tremaine. “Blakeney told me of the cave as well, told me how to find it. He warned me the tides were extreme here so we have to be cautious. We’ll explore the cave before the tide comes in.”
They found the path that led some thirty feet down to Sally’s Cove, a near-perfect circle, enclosed by two skinny arms stretching out into the Channel, all barren land and rock. The beach was strewn with driftwood and algae and small tidal pools. The sand was dark and the water looked frigid. Cam looked up at the chalk cliffs, as white as her newchemise, sewn for her by Cilly during the long wait for Cam to wake up.
They took off their shoes and stockings and ran along the gritty damp sand to stop at the face of the cliff with a spill of boulders on the sand nearly touching the wall.
“Blakeney said the cave is—ah, yes, here is the opening, right by the stacked rocks. I wonder, did Simon and I carry these rocks here to mark the entrance to the cave?”
“It makes sense since the opening looks hard to find. It disappears into the cliff.”
There was no need for Graham to bend down as they walked into the cave. They stood in the middle of a small chamber, no more than twelve feet wide, perhaps ten feet deep. The ceiling was well above Graham’s head. There were no rocks, only damp sand beneath their feet. Graham set down the wicker basket. “Blakeney said in the second chamber there are magnificent stalactites and stalagmites, some broken off when the tide surges strong during storms.” He saw her shiver, and pulled her close. “I’ll keep you warm, don’t worry about that, Madam Wife.”
Their laughter rang out, echoing back to them. They ran into the second chamber and stopped cold.
A man stood facing them, a gun in each hand. And he was smiling. He was wearing buckskins, scuffed black boots and a wrinkled white linen shirt, not the clothes of a working man, the clothes of a gentleman despite their condition. There was stubble on his face, and his hair was long, dark, nearly reaching his shoulders. He looked fit and strong. He was young.
Cam and Graham stared at him. Something deep stirred inside Graham, but he couldn’t grasp it. “Who are you?”
The man said in a lovely deep voice, “What a surprise. The last thing I suspected was you two coming here. Luckily, I saw you riding here and imagined Blakeney told you aboutthis cave, told you to visit. I beat you here. I’ve been waiting. And sure enough, here you are. I heard you two laughing.” He eyed the two of them up and down. “My father always counseled me to be prepared for the unexpected because the unexpected was always nipping at a man’s heels. Your coming, it’s really quite excellent. Now I do not have to devise another way to kill the two of you.”
CHAPTER 71
“Who are you?” Graham said again, but deep down, some part of Graham recognized him. He moved closer to Cam, took her hand, squeezed it. She was steady, staring as he was at the man.
The young man laughed. “I see you don’t recognize me. How depressing that seeing me doesn’t bring your memory snapping back.”
“No, I don’t know you.” Graham studied the man, young, about his own age, tall, lean, dark coloring, a beard covering his cheeks, his gentleman’s clothes wrinkled. His eyes were dark. Something elusive stirred again, faded away.
The gun he held never wavered. “Of course you don’t remember the extreme tide here in Sally’s Cove. It fills the cave twice a day, impossible to stay here because it’s always damp. I was forced to stay in an empty crofter’s cottage near my father. After you murdered him, I moved into his house.”
