Page 20

Protecting the flickering flame of her candle with one hand, Charlotte hurried up the stairs and along the passageway to her bedchamber. When saving William’s flock had become a priority, she did not know. But somehow, it had. She’d enjoyed the baron’s presence enough last night to miss it today, but that early connection had become something much stronger as they’d battled together to revive the lamb. She’d felt it when he took her hand, had seen the flicker of awareness in his eyes. And when he’d asked her to call him by his given name, she’d known he’d recognized it too.

She reached her room and stepped inside, the magnitude of what she had agreed to do hitting her for the first time. Pushing aside her misgivings, she crossed to the wardrobe. Her first challenge would be dressing in a timely fashion. She did not know where Lady Cheston’s ladies’ maids slept, and she had no time to find out.

Opening the door, she rifled through the clothing hanging there until she found her riding habit. She took off her dressing gown, and eyeing her stays with trepidation, she loosened the ties just enough to slip it over her head, fumbling to tighten the laces. It was impossible to keep the two sides even. With a frustrated tug, she cinched the back as tight as she could and tied the laces in a haphazard knot.

Sparing herself the additional encumbrance of a hooped petticoat over her shift, she put on her habit, tugged on her riding boots, and tied back her hair with a piece of loose ribbon. Guessing that the beach would be more exposed to the sea breeze than was the house, she tossed her cloak across her shoulders. Picking up her candle once more, she left her room as quickly as she’d entered it.

At the top of the stairs, she hesitated. Under normal circumstances, she would leave the house by the front door. This did not constitute normal circumstances however, and she would prefer to avoid alerting anyone in the household to her departure. Realizing that William had likely left the servants’ door unlocked, she retraced her steps to the kitchen. Already, the fire had dimmed. The empty pan and bubby pot sat on the table. Charlotte placed her candle beside them and blew it out. By the faint glow of the coals, she crossed to the door and pulled it open.

Moonlight shone down on the drive, outlining trees and bushes near the house. Dark oblong shapes in the distance marked the position of the barn and stables, and over the rustle of leaves in the breeze, she heard the distinctive sound of a latch lifting, followed by the clatter of hooves against the gravel. William was bringing out their horses. Closing the door behind her, Charlotte picked up her skirts and ran.

William rode between Thomas and Charlotte, his thoughts swirling. If, as Charlotte suspected, someone was hiding his sheep in a cave and removing them under cover of darkness, where were they taken next? It seemed to him that there were only three possibilities. One was to take them back across the pasture or down the public footpath, but Tribbley Hall lands were extensive, and it would take considerable time to cross it from the cliffs—especially in the dark. Another possibility was to remove the animals by sea. It would not be difficult to steer a small craft into the bay, load up a sheep or two, and take off again, only to dock elsewhere. Regardless of his obvious disdain for the creatures, Mr. Fitzroy had already admitted to being out in a boat by night.

If the tide were out, the easiest exit strategy for someone droving sheep would be to take them across the sand. Around the headland to the north, the Tribbley estate gave way to Mr. Wellington’s land. Beyond his, was Mr. Fitzroy’s. To the south, Mr. Ryland’s estate butted against William’s and was bordered on the other side by the wetlands surrounding the Broads. Mr. Crawley, the gentleman who had reported missing sheep to the magistrate, owned the property beyond the waterways. It was notable that each of those individuals had acreage that terminated at the sea.

He glanced at the sky, grateful for the bright moon. He and Thomas knew the road well enough to ride it in the dark, but the pale light would undoubtedly make it easier for Charlotte to find her way back to the spot where she’d heard bleating earlier today. As desperate as he was to reach his sheep before they disappeared, the thought that the three of them might appear on the beach at the same time as the thief had not escaped him. He and Thomas had taken the time to arm themselves with the emergency pistols he kept locked in the stables, but Charlotte—the most vulnerable of them all—was defenseless.

Mindful of how well sound traveled at night, William kept his voice low. “Would you ride on the other side of Miss Densley, Thomas?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, his steward slowed his horse and waited for them to continue ahead of him before crossing the road to move up alongside the lady.

“Do you anticipate trouble, my lord?” Charlotte asked softly.

“If you are right about what is happening at the cliffs, I pray we will arrive before the villain. In that case, all will be well.”

“What if I am correct, but he is there ahead of us?”

“If there is any hint of a confrontation, I would ask that you return to the house immediately. Thomas will accompany you.”

“I think not.”

He swiveled to look at her in the dark. “I beg your pardon?”

“Forgive me,” she said. “I did not mean to be discourteous. It’s simply that if we happen upon the villain, you and Thomas must face him together.”

“I would not have you return to the house alone.”

“Then we are at an impasse, my lord.”

William’s frustration vied with his admiration. “There was no sign of your common sense when you returned to your chamber, then.”

“Not so much as a smidgen,” she said. “But I shall attempt to locate it as quickly as possible.”

If he had not been so concerned for her, he would have chuckled. As it was, he redoubled his silent prayers that they would reach the cliffs without encountering anyone.

“The entrance to the bay is up ahead, my lord,” Thomas said.

“I see it,” William replied. The gravel ended at a dark swathe of sand and scrub. “Be aware that once we cross the remaining rocks, we will be clearly visible to anyone on the beach.”

“Let us hope any other visitors to the bay are similarly blessed,” Thomas muttered.

The clatter of hooves against the rocky entrance seemed especially loud. When they reached the sand, Charlotte pointed to the left. They started that way without speaking, hugging the cliffs so that they might take advantage of the protection afforded by the rock wall. The waves rushed in and out, rattling the pebbles as they rolled over them. The breeze strengthened, and up ahead, the chalk and sandstone of the rising cliffs reflected the moonlight.

Charlotte led them a considerable distance, and at just about the time he considered questioning if she would have walked so far, she stopped.

“We are close,” she whispered. “I remember standing near that outcropping and realizing it was long past time to return to Grandmama.”

“Did you go any farther?” William asked.