Chapter Four #2
That cream bow was utterly enthralling because of how unlikely it was.
His eyes had focused on the shape of the ribbon, and he had an overwhelming desire to tease it with his tongue, bite at it, then nip at her naked leg above it before kissing her exposed skin with his tongue.
Would her thighs be salty from the close contact with the sea, or would it taste like the soap she used on her flesh?
The idea pressed down on him, as he remembered her exposed legs.
Then all of a sudden, the lavender skirts Miss Fossey wore dropped back down in place.
Robert recalled where he was and how poorly he was acting, giving little credit to the idea that he was a gentleman.
“I thought we would make toward the shifting cliffs,” Miss Fossey said, cutting into his spiraling thoughts as she indicated in the distance.
She was pointing toward a handsome white outcropping shape that dipped and flowed up and down appealingly.
Now that he had donned his glasses, he could make them out clearly.
They looked very rugged, in sharp contrast to the honeycombed presentation of the buildings in Lyme.
The sort of place that would make excellent hiding spots for smugglers.
He would need to return alone to explore.
“Shifting?”
“On occasion, there are landslips.”
“So, you call them shifting?”
“It seems like a good name for them.”
“They would be a good location for hiding,” he said mildly.
“Aye.” Miss Fossey paused. “Although, you could easily lose something if there was a collapse.”
Robert felt his pulse quicken, wondering if she might reveal an insight into the smuggling that was going on in Lyme.
That if she were innocent, now would be an opportunity to tell him, to hint at what was going on with the smugglers.
Certainly, his casual interference with the Weirs, alluding to the presence of free traders in the area, neither of them had looked as if they understood or grasped his reference—so perhaps they were innocent, or better actors than he realized.
That or he needed to be more direct in his questioning.
Miss Fossey interrupted his wandering thoughts. “They are the best location in my experience for finding fossils. That is what you mentioned seeking so I thought it best.”
“But is it dangerous?” Robert did not feel concerned for himself.
How life-threatening could some rocks be in contrast to the battles he had endured in the navy?
But with his poorer sight, he did fear that the stones, rocks, and the lot of shifting lands might come crashing down on her, trapping them both.
He leaned into the gentlemanly cowardice, hoping to convince her of a foppish tendency buried in his chest. “Surely, ma’am, it will be too rough for us? ”
“I come here most days. The winter months are far worse. Given it’s March now, we should be safe.” She sounded remarkably unfussed by the pretense of fear, and continued marching along the beach. Pausing every now and then to look at a pebble or rock, pocketing one occasionally.
“Does your family not fear for you? Out here…all alone?” If she were connected to the smugglers, then surely one of them could be her brother, her lover…he would take even a distantly connected cousin at this point in time.
“No.”
Either Miss Fossey was being deliberately vague, or she truly was one of the worst conversationalists Robert had ever met. He was racking his brain for something else to ask her when she volunteered a nugget of information.
“My sister is away in Bath with our mother.”
It was not something that added much to his smuggling theory but at least it was better than a stony silence. “And they have left you all alone?”
“No.” Miss Fossey bent again, but this time when she stood back up, a rock in one hand, her free hand shot out and took his proffered palm to help her stand upright.
“My sister Sophia is considered a great beauty. She is in Bath to find a match. My oldest sister has stayed with me, so I am not alone.” She drew out her hammer, and tapped the rock she held.
Dust and grit seemed to fly up and out of the rock as Robert watched in shock, realizing that her hammer was not a weapon but a tool.
“Here.” She passed him her find, and drew from her basket a notepad and pencil.
“What are you doing?”
Suddenly, Abigail shot him a broad grin. For the first time, Robert felt a twist of guilt questioning her.
“I think it wise to record the date, the layer of rock, and, of course, the location of any particularly unusual discovery.” Miss Fossey placed both back in her basket and took back her discovery, smiling at it as she did so.
“This is an ammonite.” There was pride in her voice as she turned it over.
“I am collecting enough of them to either sell them, or better yet…” She paused and met Robert’s eyes.
In the depths of her gaze, he thought he saw a flash of vulnerability.
“My family values my sister’s beauty a great deal.
I suppose that is the case for society in general.
But it is not the only thing we as women can bring to the world—merely to be decorative.
There is more to us, more to me.” With that declaration, Miss Fossey dropped her gaze and put her fossil into her basket, her grasp on his hand slipping away before Robert could think of a suitable reply.
Hurriedly, he walked after her.
Miss Fossey’s energy matched his own, and he was surprised by it. Few women prided themselves on their abilities to be so active. Presumably, this level of strength and endurance was gained from simply walking and scouring the area of Lyme, and not a thing to do with smuggling?
“I am sure you are a match for your sister.” It was meant as a way of winning her over. After all, women liked to be complimented. However, it did not land because Miss Fossey turned back to him and frowned.
“Were that the case, I would be made to parade around in Bath pretending I have not a thought in my head. Sophia can keep her looks if that is all they see in her.”
“I merely—”
“No one would notice me were my sister here,” Miss Fossey said. Robert tried to read malice or regret or anger in her words, but he could not. She was too matter-of-fact.
“I merely wished to pay you the respect you deserve.” His compliment again sounded flat to his ears, and it lay between them as they walked on.
A good minute inched past before Miss Fossey said, “Thank you, in that case.” She gave him a small half smile.
In that second, Robert wondered if it were the first time anyone—any man—had complimented her.
Had flirted with her. It seemed as if Miss Fossey were unused to such behaviors.
Or perhaps she was simply excellent at ignoring them.
They continued onto the curve of the pebbled beach. Miss Fossey would often stop and remark on some historical or ancient find.
Just as Robert was concluding that he would need to end their exploration, there came from up ahead a noise, the uneven rambling footfalls.
Robert watched two figures moving closer, nearing them.
In practiced haste, he removed his glasses.
From their outlines and the fact that, with the exception of Miss Fossey, most women would not have been out walking in such a way, he reasoned they must be men.
This was proved to be true when one of them doffed his cap at Miss Fossey, a handsome man of around twenty-five or so, with pleasing features and wavy blond hair.
The other was older, grey hair in contrast to his unlined face.
The two of them nonetheless presented a striking, handsome pair.
“Mr. Suchet.” Miss Fossey nodded at the older man, before looking at the younger, her tone a touch less courteous. “Mr. Monaghan. This is Mr. O’Sullivan. He has travelled all the way from Dublin.”
Neither seemed to think it strange that she was out at this hour in the company of a man. They nodded politely enough at Robert.
“Where’s the eldest Miss Fossey?” Mr. Suchet asked, a rather acquisitive gleam in his eye, looking Miss Abigail over, his tone overly familiar as if he might have some rights to either or both the Miss Fosseys.
“My sister should be at home, although—”
“We know, we know. She won’t be wanting callers this early.” Mr. Monaghan cut Miss Fossey off. “I’m certain all my uncle meant to ask was if the two of you—the three of you—” His eyes landed on Robert. “—will be doing any further socializing this week?”
“You refer to the first ball of the spring?” Miss Fossey asked.
She let out a loud sigh, as if she could not be more bored by the turn of conversation.
It was evident from Miss Fossey’s expression that she would rather walk over hot coals than entertain the trivialities of a ball.
To Robert’s surprise, Mr. Monaghan laughed at her rudeness.