Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)
This time Thayer took the hint. Inclining a small bow to the ladies, he took his leave and proceeded up the Pump House stairs to join the crowd in the Promenade.
“Have we a change of plans?” inquired Andover.
“No,” replied Caro. “I cannot say why…” Which was the truth. “But there is something about Mr. Thayer that is unsettling. I’d rather he wasn’t aware of our plans.”
“Ooooh, a nefarious plot and a wicked villain. How very exciting,” intoned Andover in a mock whisper. “You ladies are awfully good at imagining dark and dangerous adventures.” He winked. “Perhaps you should consider writing a novel.”
“Poetry is hard enough, Andy,” she shot back. “Now help Isobel up to the seat and let us be off.”
Chapter Seventeen
Reining his horse to a halt on the top of the wooded knoll, Alec stood up in the stirrups and surveyed the weathered bones of the sprawling old Abbey nestled in the meadows of the dell below. With the verdant ivy vines twined around the crumbled walls and arches of butter-colored limestone, it made a wildly romantic scene.
No doubt Caro’s sister Anna could set a thrilling scene among the nooks and shadows of the sprawling ruins—a chase perhaps, with her intrepid heroine Emmalina Smythe evading the pursuit of the evil villain…
Alec checked such thoughts with a wry grimace, reminding himself that the last thing he wanted was any thrills or excitement. He was here simply to find a hiding place for the stolen antiquity—an easy task by the look of things—and be off.
But then again, nothing ever seemed to go along easily when Caro was involved.
The breeze blew through his hair, and for an instant, a ruffled strand tickled against his cheek.
Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.
He sat back in the saddle, and took a long moment to contemplate the clouds scudding across the sun, a peek-a-boo circle of shimmering light against the brilliant azure blue.
Everchanging shapes and hues—infinitely alive and unpredictable.
And that was, he conceded, what made the sky so infinitely interesting.
It could be inspiring, it could be frightening, it could be calming. But never, ever could it be boring.
A lone hawk floated into view, circling slowly on the currents of air. Reminded of his mission, Alec spurred his horse on and began the descent down the twisting path.
“Halloo!” From atop one of the low walls, Isobel greeted his approach with a vigorous wave. “What a nice surprise! I thought you were engaged for the afternoon.”
“I finished early, so I thought I would stop by on my way back to town,” he answered.
“There may be a few scraps of food to spare for you,” called Andover, from the swath of grass inside the tumbled stones. A blanket had been spread on the ground, and he was busy unpacking the hamper.
“Knowing Cook, I am sure she packed enough to feed an army,” said Alec as he dismounted and tethered his mount beside the curricle.
“At least a regiment,” replied Andover with a grin.
“It appears the troop of ravens will not go hungry,” he remarked, eyeing the numerous treats. He then looked around for Caro, a frisson of alarm stealing down his spine at the thought that she might have ventured off on her own with the stolen antiquity.
/> “Nor will we, I assure you,” came a voice from within one of the alcoves that still retained part of its roof. A moment later, Caro emerged from the arched opening, streaks of dirt smudging her cheeks.
“There are still the remains of a wooden storage cabinet in there.” She held up a small copper coin. “Look—I found this lodged behind one of the broken shelves.”
“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Isobel. “Finding a penny is supposed to bring good luck.”
Let us hope so, thought Alec.
He watched her climb over a tumble of fallen stones and winced as one of them suddenly shifted beneath her feet. “Careful,” he warned. “These ruins can be dangerous. You really ought not go into the covered spaces. The slightest jarring or jiggling could make the roofs collapse in an instant.”
“Right-ho,” agreed Andover. “You ladies really ought not wander off without one of us accompanying you.”
“The slate tiles could just as easily fall on your heads,” pointed out Isobel quickly.