A Night to Surrender (6 page)

“What we need in this place,” Thorne said, “is a cat.”

Bram scowled. “For God’s sake, I am not acquiring a cat.”

Thorne looked to the woolly beast at his knee and cocked a brow. “You seem to have acquired a lamb, my lord.”

“The lamb goes home tomorrow.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He’s dinner.”

Five

I
n a village of women, secrets had shorter life expectancies than gnats. The moment she opened the door of Bright’s All Things the next morning, Susanna was inundated with queries and questions. She ought to have known she would be besieged. Young ladies crowded around her like hens after corn, pecking for bits of information.

“Is it true, what we’ve heard? What they’re saying, is it true?” Nineteen-year-old Sally, the second eldest of the Bright children, leaned eagerly over the counter.

“That would depend.” Susanna lifted her hands to untie the ribbons of her bonnet. As she worked the knots loose, anticipation in the shop built to a palpable fever.

“Depend on what?”

“On who ‘they’ are, and precisely what it is they’re saying.” She spoke calmly. Someone had to.

“They say we’ve been invaded!” Violet Winterbottom said. “By
men
.”

“What else would we be invaded by? Wolves?”

Susanna looked about the shop, taking a moment to collect her thoughts and enjoy the familiar splendor. This sight never failed to enchant her. The first time she’d entered Bright’s All Things shop, she’d felt as though she’d stumbled upon Ali Baba’s treasure cave.

The shop’s front was lined with south-facing diamond-paned windows, which admitted an abundance of golden sunlight. Each of its other three walls was stacked, floor to lofty ceiling, with shelves—and those shelves were crammed with colorful goods of every sort. Bolts of silk and lace, quills and bottles of ink, buttons and brilliants, charcoal and pigments, comfits and pickled limes, tooth powder, dusting powder, and much, much more—all of it sparkling in the midday sun.

“The inn’s scullery maid had it all from her brother.” Sally’s cheeks were pink with excitement. “A band of officers have encamped on the bluffs.”

“Is it true there’s a lord in their party?” Violet asked.

Susanna removed her bonnet and laid it aside. “Yes, some officers are temporarily encamped on the castle bluffs. And no, there is not a lord in the party.” She paused. “There are two.”

The squeal of excitement occasioned by this pronouncement quite pained her ears. She looked to Sally. “Could you show me those two spools of lace again? The ones I looked at Thursday last? I couldn’t decide between the—”

“Hang the lace,” Sally said. “Tell us more of these gentlemen. Cruel thing, you know we are dying of anticipation.”

“Miss Finch!” A most unexpected woman pushed her way to the fore. “Miss Finch, what is this I hear about lords?”

“Mrs. Highwood?” Susanna blinked at the lace-capped widow in disbelief. “What are you still doing here?”

“We’re all here,” Minerva called, standing behind her mother, arm-in-arm with Charlotte. From the counter, Diana gave a shy wave.

Somehow, Susanna had missed them in the initial crush. “But . . . But I saw your carriage leaving yesterday.”

“Mama sent it to fetch all our things,” Charlotte said, bouncing on her toes. “We’re to stay here in Spindle Cove for the summer! Isn’t it marvelous?”

“Yes.” Susanna laughed with relief. “Yes, it is. I’m so glad.”

Even Mrs. Highwood smiled. “I just knew it was the right decision. My friends always say my intuition is unparalleled. Why, just this morning two lords have arrived in the neighborhood. While we’re here, Diana can get well
and
get married.”

Hm. Susanna wasn’t so sure about
that
.

“Now tell us everything about them,” Sally insisted.

“There truly is not much to tell. Three gentlemen arrived in the neighborhood yesterday afternoon. They include a Lieutenant Colonel Bramwell, a Corporal Thorne, and Bramwell’s cousin, Lord Payne. For his service to the Crown, Bramwell has been granted the title Earl of Rycliff. The castle is his.” She turned to Sally. “May I see the lace now?”

“The castle is his?” asked Violet. “How can that be? A man just marches into town, and suddenly a centuries-old castle is his for the asking?”

Mrs. Lange harrumphed. “That’s a man for you. Always taking, never asking.”

“He was awarded the earldom in recognition of his valor, apparently,” Susanna said. “He’s been tasked with raising a local militia and providing a review. The field day will take the place of our usual midsummer fair.”

“What?” Charlotte cried. “No midsummer fair? But I was so looking forward to it.”

“I know, dear. We all looked forward to it. But we’ll find other ways to amuse ourselves this summer, never fear.”

“I’m sure you will.” Sally gave her a knowing look. “Cor. Two lords and an officer. No wonder you’re taken with the lace this morning, Miss Finch. With the new gents in residence, all you ladies will want to look your best.”

Several ladies pressed into a circle around her, investigating the wares with fresh interest.

Miss Kate Taylor didn’t join them. Instead, she crossed the room to join Susanna. As Spindle Cove’s music tutor, Kate was one of the rooming house’s few year-round residents. She was also delightfully sensible, and among Susanna’s closest friends.

“You look out of sorts,” Kate said quietly.

“I’m not worried,” she lied. “We’ve worked too hard to build this community, and our cause is too important. We won’t let a few men divide us.”

Kate looked around the room. “It seems to be starting already.”

The group of young women had separated in two groups—those eagerly absorbing Sally Bright’s beautification advice huddled on the left. On the right, the remainder stood in a defensive knot, casting worried glances at their gloves and slippers.

She’d feared precisely this reaction. A handful of the young ladies in Spindle Cove would fall victim to scarlet fever, eagerly chasing after the redcoats. The awkward, demure majority would crawl back into their protective shells, like hermit crabs.

“Diana must have a new ribbon,” Mrs. Highwood decided. “Coral pink. She always looks her best in coral pink. And a deep green for Charlotte.”

“And for Miss Minerva?” Sally asked.

Mrs. Highwood made a dismissive wave. “No ribbons for Minerva. She makes a knot of them, removing and donning those spectacles.”

Susanna craned her neck for a glimpse of the bespectacled girl in question, anxious for her feelings. Fortunately, Minerva had migrated to the shop’s rear corner, where she seemed to be examining some bottles of ink. The middle Highwood sister was not what one could call a conventional beauty, but a keen intellect lived behind those spectacles, and it didn’t need a ribbon to adorn it.

“How do the men look?” Young Charlotte turned to Susanna. “Are they terribly handsome?”

“What has that to do with anything?”

Mrs. Highwood nodded sagely. “Charlotte, Miss Finch is absolutely right. It makes no difference whether these lords are handsome. So long as they possess a good fortune. Looks fade; gold doesn’t.”

“Mrs. Highwood, the young ladies needn’t concern themselves with the gentlemen’s looks, fortunes, or favorite colors of ribbon. I don’t believe they’ll be mingling socially.”

“What? But they must, surely. They can’t stay all the way up there at that damp castle.”

“They can’t stay far away enough for me,” Susanna muttered. But no one heard her uncharacteristically uncharitable remark, because at that moment Finn and Rufus Bright appeared in the storeroom door.

“They’re coming!” Finn shouted. “We spotted them just—”

His twin finished, “Just down the lane. We’re off to mind their horses.” The two disappeared as quickly as they’d come.

Education was anywhere a person sought it, Susanna believed. She learned something new every day. Today, she learned what it felt like to be at the center of a wildebeest stampede.

Every person in the shop thundered past her, pushing and pressing toward the diamond-paned windows for a look at the approaching men. She flattened herself against the door, holding her breath until the dust settled.

“Cor,” Sally said. “They are handsome as anything.”

“Oh!” said Mrs. Highwood, apparently too overset for multisyllabic words. “Oh.”

“I can’t see a thing,” Charlotte whimpered, stamping her feet. “Minerva, your elbow is in my ear.”

Susanna stood on tiptoe, stretching her neck for a glimpse. She didn’t have to stretch far. There were times her freakish height came in handy.

There they were. All three of them, dismounting their horses on the village green. The Bright boys eagerly accepted the reins.

Pressed around her on all sides, the ladies cooed over Lord Payne’s handsome features and debonair mien. Susanna couldn’t spare the man a glance. Her attention was drawn immediately and unswervingly to the horrid Lord Rycliff, who was looking more dark and medieval than ever with his unshaven jaw and that impudently long hair tied in a thick queue at his nape. She couldn’t stop looking at him. And she couldn’t look at him without . . .
feeling
him. His solid warmth against her chest. His strong grip on her elbow. His hot kiss brushing over her lips.

“My goodness,” Kate whispered in her ear. “They are rather . . . manly, aren’t they?”

Yes, Susanna thought. God help her, he was.

“And that dark one is frightfully big.”

“You should feel him up close.”

Kate’s eyes went wide, and a startled laugh burst from her lips. “What did you just say?”

“Er . . . I said, you should see him up close.”

“No. You didn’t. You said I should
feel
him up close.” Her hazel eyes lit with a mischievous twinkle.

Ears hot with embarrassment, Susanna fluttered a hand in weak defense. “I’m a healer. We assess with our hands.”

“If you say so.” Kate turned back to the window.

Violet sighed loudly. “I suppose this means we’ll have to cancel our afternoon salon.”

“Of course not,” Susanna countered. “There’s no need to alter our plans. Most likely, the men won’t trouble with us at all. But if the new Lord Rycliff and his party do see fit to take tea . . . We must do our best to welcome them.”

This statement was met with a flurry of enthusiasm and a cyclone of alarm. Objections rose up all around her.

“Miss Finch, they won’t understand. They’ll mock us, just like the gentlemen in Town.”

“To think, playing for an earl? I haven’t anything fine enough to wear.”

“I shall die of mortification. Positively
die
.”

“
Ladies
.” Susanna lifted her voice. “There is no cause for concern. We will go on as we always do. In a month’s time, this militia business will be over and these men will have gone. Nothing in Spindle Cove will be the different for their visit.”

For her friends’ sake, she must maintain a brave front in the face of this invasion. But she knew, staring through the small window in the door, that her words were false. It was too late. Things were already changing in Spindle Cove.

Something had altered in
her
.

A
fter dismounting from his gelding, Bram straightened his coat and had a look about the place. “A fair enough village,” he mused. “Rather charming.”

“I knew it,” Colin said, adding a petulant curse.

The green was expansive, dotted with shade trees. Across the lane sat a neat row of buildings. He took the largest to be the inn. Narrow dirt lanes lined with cottages curved out from the village’s center, following the contours of the valley. Toward the cove side of the village, he spied a cluster of humble cottages. Fishermen’s abodes, no doubt. And in the center of the green loomed the church—a soaring cathedral, remarkably grand for a village of this size. He supposed it was a remnant of that medieval port city Sir Lewis had mentioned.

“This place is clean,” Colin said carefully. “Too clean. And too quiet. It’s unnatural. It’s giving me the shudders.”

Bram had to admit, the village was oddly immaculate and eerily empty of people. Each cobble sparkled in the street. The dirt lanes were swept clean of debris. Every shop front and cottage boasted neat window boxes overflowing with red geraniums.

A pair of lads rushed toward them. “Can we help with the horses, Lord Rycliff?”

Lord Rycliff? So, they knew him already. News traveled fast in a small village, he supposed.

Bram handed his reins to one of two eager, towheaded youths. “What are your names, lads?”

“Rufus Bright,” the one on the left said. “And this is Finn.”

“We’re twins,” Finn offered.

“You don’t say.” The Brights. A suitable name, what with those incandescent shocks of hair—so blond as to be nearly white. “See?” he said to Colin. “I told you the place couldn’t be devoid of men.”

“They’re not men,” Colin replied. “They’re boys.”

“They didn’t germinate from the soil. If there are children, there must be men. What’s more, men whose pegos aren’t withered to twigs.” He beckoned one of the youths. “Is your father about?”

A shock of lightning hair swiveled in the negative. “He’s . . . uh, not here.”