Chapter 16
Between the Tides
Cilly helped Hetty to lift the picnic basket into the back of the little dog cart before climbing up beside her.
Hetty picked up the reins, giving the little pony leave to walk on. She glanced at her sister as they made their way down the drive.
“Thank you for doing this.”
Cilly huffed and then relented, returning a crooked smile. “You’re welcome, I suppose. Only don’t make me regret it. If you get into trouble and it's discovered I helped you—well, I shan’t be pleased. Especially after your little outburst yesterday.”
Hetty winced, aware that Cilly was still annoyed by her clumsy attempt to discover what had happened between her and Rivington.
She was certain something had happened, and she intended to discover what, but she was sorry she hadn’t handled it better.
Cilly had refused to speak a word on the subject, though, and so Hetty had to be content that she was speaking to her at all.
“What will you do while I’m at the beach?” Hetty asked, a little troubled by this.
Cilly shrugged. “I shall go for a drive around. Just remember, you’ve an hour and a half. No longer. I shall be back on time,” she warned Hetty with a little wag of her finger.
Hetty returned a solemn nod, wondering if that was enough time for Gideon to kiss her from her toes to her—but no. She ought not be thinking of such things. They had important things to discuss, not the least of which was her plan to catch his thief.
The pony trotted along the shady path that led through Winsham Woods, and then along the road that followed the beach. She slowed him to a walk as they passed the building site, and they admired the progress being made.
“It will be magnificent,” Cilly said, sounding a little awed at the prospect. Bearing in mind they’d grown up in Ealdor Palace, this was quite a compliment.
A fierce surge of pride swept through Hetty on Gideon’s behalf, and she swore that if fate gave her the opportunity, she would do everything in her power to see Gideon succeed.
Urging the pony back into a trot, they sped down the road at a merry clip until a figure ahead of them caught her eye.
“Oh, look, there he is! Gideon!” she called, waving at him as he turned.
Her heart did a happy little somersault in her chest. The knowledge that she would be in his company again warmed her and made her feel as though her blood fizzed in her veins. Was this what love felt like?
She slowed the pony and jumped down, barely resisting the urge to run into his arms but self-conscious as Cilly was watching them.
Gideon greeted her sister, who returned a polite nod. “An hour and a half, Hetty,” Cilly repeated, moving to the centre of the bench and gathering the reins.
“Yes, Mama,” Hetty retorted, not feeling she had needed the reminder.
Gideon looked between them, registering the unspoken tension that had not entirely dissipated.
“The picnic is in the back,” Hetty said, picking up the blanket she’d brought as Gideon hefted the study wicker basket. He looked at her in surprise.
“Good Lord, what is in here?”
She smiled at him. “Lovely things,” she said, turning to wave at Cilly. “See you later.”
Cilly nodded and turned the pony, taking him back the way they’d come.
Gideon watched her go. “She didn’t mind?”
“No, not really, though she’s still annoyed with me.” She turned to look at him as they made their way towards the beach. “Did you speak to Damian yet?”
“No. I’ve not seen him. He wasn’t around last night, and I’ve been on site since seven thirty. Don’t worry. I will.”
“I know you will.”
The beach here was unlike most in this part of England, except for Camber Sands, which lay a little farther along the coast. It felt surprisingly extensive and rather wild, different from the usual shingle beaches along the coastline.
A vast area of soft, golden sand swept for miles in either direction.
Behind the beach, there were rolling sand dunes covered with long tufts of marram grass that rippled in the wind.
Open and airy, the skies seemed larger here than anywhere Hetty had ever been before, with no buildings to interrupt the view.
The tide was in presently, but at low tide would retreat far, far away, leaving broad, shimmering acres of wet sand.
For a picnic—and what Hetty had been fondly imagining as a tryst—the dunes were the perfect shelter, creating little hidden pockets, perfect for sitting out of the wind and out of sight.
“I’d never seen a beach like this before I came here,” Gideon admitted as they slid and clambered over the dunes. “It feels like a miniature desert meeting the sea.”
“Neither had I. It’s rather special, I think. Oh, this is perfect,” Hetty exclaimed, gesturing to a cosy little nook where the long grass lined the dunes, creating a sheltered alcove.
Gideon nodded his approval, so she spread the rug and sat as Gideon set the basket in front of her and sat at her side.
For a moment it seemed awkward and Hetty shifted uncertainly, wondering if she appeared gauche and silly, or dreadfully bold. But then Gideon reached out and caught her hand, raising her fingers to his lips and kissing them.
“Good day, Lady Henrietta.”
Hetty blushed, touched by the formality as much as the warmth in his usually cool grey eyes.
“Good day to you, Mr Bramwell.”
He seemed aware of her sudden shyness and let go of her hand, giving her space. “Well then, what is in that weighty basket, for I’m famished.”
Grateful for the chance to busy herself, Hetty undid the straps and began unpacking.
“A bottle of white wine—hopefully still chilled, and glasses,” she said, setting them out on the blanket.
Gideon took up the bottle and set about opening it.
“A large pork pie, roast beef sandwiches, cold roast chicken, minced meat patties, cheese, and fresh bread rolls, pickled walnuts, strawberries, a Madeira cake, Ratafia biscuits and jam tarts.”
“Are you expecting company?” Gideon asked, laughing.
“No, just one hungry architect who, I suspect, does not eat as he ought to do.”
“Oh, you think I’m all skin and bones, is that it?” he asked, giving her a speaking glance as he poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.
Hetty took it, feeling her pulse skip as their fingers brushed. “Well, I should know, having seen all there is,” she replied bluntly.
Gideon gave a bark of laughter. “Wretch! Found me wanting, did you?”
Hetty felt her cheeks blaze and returned her attention to the basket, taking out the plates and cutlery. “No. Not in the least, I—I thought you looked beautiful.”
She dared a glance at him to find Gideon watching her, a simmering look in his eyes. “Men aren’t beautiful,” he replied, though there was a quality to his voice that quickened her already hurrying pulse.
“I must beg to disagree,” she replied, holding his gaze for as long as she could before the tension became too unbearable. “Chicken leg?” she offered, holding one out to him.
A slow, wolfish grin curved his lips, but he reached out and took it, biting into it with relish.
To her relief, as they made their way through the delicious picnic and the excellent wine, the atmosphere became easier, and they talked just as naturally as they always did.
“Now then,” she said, cutting Gideon an enormous slice of cake and spooning on a good quantity of strawberries. “I have a plan to catch your thief.”
He looked at the massive chunk of Madeira cake with amusement but said nothing. “Oh?”
Hetty nodded, hardly able to wait to explain it to him. “It’s wonderfully devious, if I say so myself. You know, Gideon, I rather like the idea of being a lady detective, I think I have a knack for it. Anyway, you remember I suggested using the ironmongery as a lure?”
Gideon watched her, a smile warming his eyes as he nodded, his mouth full of strawberries.
Hetty hurried on. “Well, imagine a large box filled with lovely, solid brass doorknobs and escutcheons and finger plates. They’re expensive and portable, too tempting for your thief to resist.”
“Yes, I agree, but I need to catch him, not just give him more things to walk off with.”
“I know, and here’s the clever bit. What if we cover the top of the box with layers of tissue paper, which won’t seem the least bit odd for such valuable items.”
“How does that help?” he demanded, frowning as he scooped up more strawberries and cake.
Hetty tsked impatiently, eager to explain.
“It doesn’t, but what if between the layers of paper, we put powdered paint, in the brightest colours we can find.
The moment the thief lifts the paper, the paint will fly everywhere.
It would stick to his clothes and his shoes too, so even if he washed his hands, he’d not be able to rid it from himself completely. ”
Hetty sat back, heart thumping as she watched Gideon’s face expectantly. He had paused with his loaded spoon in midair, staring at her.
He frowned, setting the spoon down carefully, and for a moment Hetty’s heart stuttered. Don’t be like everyone else, she begged silently. Don’t tell me not to trouble my head about things that are too complicated for me. She did not realise she’d been holding her breath until he spoke again.
“That’s brilliant.”
Hetty sighed, an unsteady gust of air as her heart recommenced beating. “Truly?”
Gideon laughed, gazing at her, the admiration in his eyes so blatant she flushed with pleasure.
“Truly,” he agreed. “You are the most remarkable girl, Hetty. I’ve met no one else like you in my life.”
“Lucky you,” she said, not knowing what else to say, unused to compliments that actually meant something, that held the unmistakable ring of truth.
“Don’t do that,” he said gently.
Overhead a seagull called, the shrill cry plaintive as the wind buffeted the bird, and it wheeled and then glided away.
Hetty swallowed, aware they were snatching this moment alone, taking it from the real world and making it their own. For this moment, they lived in a little bubble, where no one could touch them. She watched as Gideon moved his plate aside and shifted closer.