Caught in a Cornish Scandal by Eleanor Webster (top novels of all time .txt) 📗

‘Indeed, although it is after luncheon and I worry that you will both get hungry. Still, I suppose you can get something to eat on the way. Although the smell in the hallway suggests that the landlord must have brought in Mrs Bridges today to make her roast beef. My mother always says Mrs Bridges’s beef is the best.’

‘That is true,’ Sir Anthony concurred. He pulled out his gold pocket watch, glancing down. ‘Good Lord, I have been snoozing a while. Perhaps we should have something to eat here; I mean, if you do not mind?’ He posed this last question to Sam.

‘I—’

‘I am certain he wouldn’t mind,’ Millie said. ‘And poor Banks is so very anxious to catch up to you.’

Sam studied Millie. Her dark blue eyes looked extra wide and her entire expression was one of sweet innocence. This made him completely convinced that she was up to something.

‘I am at your convenience, Sir Anthony,’ he said, knowing there was little harm in delaying. Banks would arrive. Possibly Jason would appear magically and solve all their problems. Or some of them. Or his memory would return.

‘Good.’ Sir Anthony rang the bell and the serving girl appeared. ‘Betsy, we’ll have the beef. Miss Lansdowne, will you stay?’

‘I would be delighted.’

‘Three beef dinners,’ Sir Anthony said. ‘And another brandy would be pleasant. Really, I do not think there is any need for a great rush to London. Perhaps the powers that be might even despatch someone down here. And really, Mrs Bridges’s beef is too good to miss.’

‘I do agree,’ Millie said. ‘And after your late night yesterday, it is little wonder that you are feeling fatigued.’

Betsy returned with the brandy while Sir Anthony and Millie discussed the climate which concluded with mutual agreement that Torquay enjoyed quite the most moderate temperatures on the British Isles. After this enlightening conversation, Millie rose.

‘I should see the innkeeper. I was rather rude when I burst in and must apologise,’ she said.

Sam raised a brow. ‘Unusual.’

‘I know; I am hardly ever rude.’

‘That is not quite what I meant.’

Millie returned some moments later and Betsy brought in the beef shortly thereafter. She put down the tray as Sir Anthony and Sam sat at the round table within the centre of the room. Millie passed around the plates, also pouring wine from a crystal decanter. She handed glasses to both gentlemen.

‘Thank you, miss,’ the maidservant said. ‘Though you do not need to bother.’

‘It is no trouble. Betsy, why do not you put some more coal on the fire and make it lovely and warm?’

Betsy did this, although Sam did not think it necessary as it was already burning brightly and the room was warm enough to be considered tropical. Sir Anthony ate his beef with enthusiasm, drank his wine and, after several muffled yawns, retired to a chair close to the fire. Within seconds they could hear his heavy breathing, followed by his rhythmic snores.

Sam glanced towards Millie. ‘You are determined to make the room so hot that we all fall asleep?’

‘No, only Sir Anthony.’

‘I cannot see the point. We will have to wake him sooner or later.’

‘I’d suggest not,’ Millie said. ‘I have every confidence he will sleep well tonight.’

Sam had picked up his fork, but laid it down again. The woman looked suspiciously demure. ‘What exactly do you mean?’

‘Only that he will get very adequate rest.’

‘What did you do?’ Sam asked. ‘I do not want a man’s poisoning on my conscious. Along with everything else.’

‘Nonsense—I merely gave him a small amount of my mother’s sleeping draught. He will be absolutely fine.’

He stared. ‘You cannot go around drugging people.’

‘I do not intend to make a habit of it,’ she said airily. ‘Now, did you want to discuss my moral compass or make use of the delay I have arranged?’

‘I—What do you have planned?’

‘We are going to see Sally and her father,’ Millie said.

‘Why?’

‘Come on, we can talk about the “whys” and “wherefores” later.’ Millie was already at the door to the corridor, looking at him with some impatience.

With a shrug, he followed. Sir Anthony did not appear likely to wake any time soon. They exited into the hallway, which was narrow, close and fragranced with roast beef. Indeed, he was quite glad to escape the muggy warmth and get into the brisk air outside.

‘So why are we seeing these people?’ he asked as they exited, the door closing behind them with a heavy thunk.

They stood to the left of the courtyard, facing the cliff, the silvery shimmer of the sea visible within the distance.

‘I spoke to Frances. She says that Jason told her things when he was drunk.’

‘Things?’

She scanned the courtyard. It was empty save for a donkey, a cart, Sir Anthony’s carriage and a lone lad, sweeping the straw some distance away. ‘He may have been involved in the smuggling and Frances suspects he was part of the wrecking.’

The words sent a shiver of cold shock through him. ‘Why did not she say?’

‘She did not know anything for certain and she was afraid. He spoke when he was drunk. She guessed the rest. I think that is why she is so obsessed with the sea.’

They looked at each other, acknowledging the unspoken words.

‘And these people, Sally and her father, will talk to us?’ he asked.

‘They want to get to the truth.’

‘And Sally’s father is a smuggler?’

‘Not any more, but he used to be. He knows a lot. People trust him,’ Millie said.

‘You do not owe me this. You have done enough.’

Briefly, her body stiffened. ‘I am not doing this for you.’

She started towards the clifftop. Despite the stubborn set of her shoulders and quick pace, she looked slight and vulnerable in her sombre skirts, starkly outlined against the sea.

He followed, more slowly. ‘Another cliff? There must be a road?’ He’d scrambled down enough cliffs to last a lifetime.

She glanced back towards the donkey. ‘I left the horse and gig at home and I used up Jeremiah’s limited good will