Page 5 of The Lady’s Guide to Deception and Desire
Admittedly, the cliffs were rather daunting.
A bead of perspiration trickled within Rosamund’s cleavage. She ought to be sitting somewhere shady with a cool glass of iced tea; not baking herself to a crisp out here.
The English summer had turned out a deal more sunny than she'd been expecting—though hardly comparable with the heat of Texas.
The sea was far out, a distant silver line beyond the wide expanse of sand. Each grain seemed to have soaked up the heat and was radiating it back at her. Even the gulls had decided it was too hot for swooping about making their usual cacophony. A few were perched in shady nooks; the rest were far off, diving the waves.
“Lovely sausage, Pom Pom.” She smacked her lips, pointing at the vivid yellow and terracotta cliffs.
The contrary canine decided that sitting down was preferable to exerting itself. With a sigh, Rosamund scooped up the puppy.
The man from the abbey was in the next cove, but walking this way—as Rosamund had ascertained from peeking around the rocks studded out from the headland.
She was certain this was the place he’d been fussing over the day before, just along from the caves Ethan and his little friend had spent so much time exploring.
At the thought of her brother, Rosamund felt a pang of anxiety. He’d be in Southampton by now. Within the next day or so, he might be on his way across the ocean. He hadn’t accompanied her father’s men willingly, though he’d done his best to put a brave face on things when he’d realized Rosamund and his mother were unable to prevent him from being taken.
Was he missing them?
Wondering, as Rosamund did, when they’d ever see one another again?
Burying her face in Pom Pom’s fur, she willed herself to keep focused. Ethan—the beloved son and heir to the Burnell empire—would be fine.
Her mother and herself, however, were in dire straits.
And this man, who would arrive at any moment, might help them gain acquaintance with the Society within which they wanted to move.
She needed to be all-fired and ready.
If Pom Pom wouldn’t scamper up himself, she’d have to carry him.
There were several places along the slope where she might grab hold to steady herself, even if there were no obvious path to follow. She need only climb a short way. Just far enough to look plausibly in need of assistance.
Gathering her skirts, she set off. “See, Pom Pom, it’s not so bad.”
However, she’d gone no more than a dozen steps before the puppy began wriggling, clearly fed up with being carried against her hip.
“Oh! Thunderation! Keep still!” She wobbled, clutching Pom Pom tighter. Grasping a protuberance of rock, it crumbled beneath her fingers. She ended up, somewhat painfully, on her knees.
With a yap, the puppy leapt from under her elbow, sprinting onward to where the sausage lay. Thankfully he seemed to have found his feet, and his courage.
“I say! What are you doing up there?” a voice called from below; distinctly aristocratic, distinctly male.
It was him alright; the tall, slender fellow, pushing back his spectacles and squinting.
“Hello there.” Rosamund realized she was still on all fours, with her bottom stuck in the air.
Not terribly dignified.
She promptly sat back on her heels.
“It’s my puppy. He scooted up here, chasing a bird I think, and he’s stuck. I must rescue him.”
“You shouldn’t; I mean, it’s dangerous! The limestone isn’t stable. Too much scrabbling and you’ll likely bring on a landslide.”
Rosamund frowned.
Now she thought of it, the surface here was quite powdery.
