Destined To Last Part 13

"Or just as poorly, as we do." Kate shifted to face her friend. "We can entertain ourselves well enough. Why don't we take a tour of the house and grounds?"

"I've already had a tour," Mirabelle told her. "Whit and I were given one after we arrived."

"Yes, Mother and I were as well." Kate gave an impatient wave of her hand. "But that was a guest's tour. Much too abbreviated."

Mirabelle narrowed her eyes. "You want to go snooping."

"I want to go exploring," Kate corrected. "We needn't rummage through anyone's bureau."

"I don't know that Lord Brentworth would appreciate the distinction."

"If Lord Brentworth doesn't care for how we entertain ourselves, he can give us something else to do."

"Lack of distraction is not a justification for objectionable behavior." Mirabelle threw a glance at the house. "If your mother caught wind..."

Kate grinned impishly. "If mother caught wind, she'd tsk at us, and then demand to know if we found anything of interest."

"That's true." Mirabelle turned back to look at her. "I'm surprised you've not explored already."

"Traversing unfamiliar terrain really isn't something I ought to do alone."

"It's a house, not a mountain," Mirabelle drawled.

"There are the grounds as well."

Mirabelle winced. "I see your point. Why haven't you taken Lizzy?"

"Because should anyone happen upon you and I while we're exploring-"

"You mean if we're caught snooping."

"Oh, very well," Kate conceded with a roll of her eyes. "If we're caught, very little is likely to be made of our-"

"Snooping."

"Exploring," Kate corrected. "Because we're guests. Lizzy-"

"Would be open to a censure we are not, because she's a lady's maid," Mirabelle finished for her with a nod of understanding.

"Exactly. Mother and Whit wouldn't be so unfair, of course, but the rest of the guests could be most unkind." Mother and Whit wouldn't be so unfair, of course, but the rest of the guests could be most unkind."

Mirabelle continued to bob her head for a moment before she turned to look at the house again, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "I cannot believe believe I'm quite seriously considering snooping about Lord Brentworth's house." I'm quite seriously considering snooping about Lord Brentworth's house."

"And grounds." It was paramount they check the grounds.

"And grounds," Mirabelle agreed, still staring at the house.

Kate lifted a shoulder and looked out over the lawn. "There's always needlework with Miss Willory in the parlor."

"Grab your papers."

"Oh, excellent." With barely concealed glee, Kate grabbed her notes and practically leapt from her seat. "You'll not regret this, Mirabelle."

"I sincerely hope not," Mirabelle sighed and rose as well. "What do you expect to find, exactly?"

"Nothing in particular," Kate answered truthfully. Nothing dangerous, at any rate, or she wouldn't have suggested the idea. She certainly wouldn't have asked Mirabelle to come along.

It was highly unlikely Lord Martin would leave proof of his treason lying about where any lost guest-and she had every intention of claiming to be lost should they be discovered-could stumble across it. What she hoped hoped to find, however, was a locked door or two-something innocuous but suspicious. Something that might lead to something useful. She'd just leave picking the lock to someone with a little more experience. to find, however, was a locked door or two-something innocuous but suspicious. Something that might lead to something useful. She'd just leave picking the lock to someone with a little more experience.

Two hours later, Kate came to the conclusion that whoever would be responsible for picking the locks at Pallton House would need more than just experience. He'd need time, lots and lots of time. And patience, vast vast amounts of patience. Because nearly every room in the house was locked. amounts of patience. Because nearly every room in the house was locked.

"Why would anyone have this many doors locked in their own home?" she demanded as they discovered yet another door that refused to open on the third level of the house.

"I don't know." Mirabelle stared at the door handle, a line forming across her brow. "It must be awfully inconvenient for the staff."

Or perhaps, Kate mused, it simply confirmed Hunter's suspicion that the staff was involved. Perhaps every smuggler kept half his house sealed up like a giant vault. She scowled absently at her feet. That didn't make sense. Lord Martin was the smuggler, but it wasn't his house. The doors wouldn't be kept locked without Lord Brentworth's approval, and Hunter hadn't mentioned Lord Brentworth being involved with the smuggling.

"Perhaps, he's just odd," she said, mostly to herself.

"Lord Brentworth?" Mirabelle asked. "He must be."

Kate blew out a short breath and fisted her hands on her hips. "I suppose there isn't much point in our checking the rest of this hall."

"I can't imagine why there would be."

Kate looked at the line of rooms before them. "Then again, if even one of those doors opened..."

Mirabelle rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall. "Go jiggle the handles, then. I'll wait here."

When the jiggling resulted in nothing more than...well, jiggling, Kate dragged Mirabelle outside for their exploration of the grounds. Unfortunately, that turned out to be an equally forgettable experience. Lord Brentworth's estate contained only the usual a.s.sortment of outbuildings, which in turn contained only the usual sort of supplies needed to run an estate.

"Goodness, one would think there'd be something something," Kate mumbled as she and Mirabelle stood on the beach, looking out over the water.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Nothing. Shall we walk along the sh.o.r.e a ways?"

"If you like." Mirabelle pointed east. "See how the land rises and the sh.o.r.e curves out of sight? Whit says there are bluffs two or three miles farther down the beach."

"Bluffs?" Kate repeated. "Rocky ones do you suppose?"

Mirabelle blinked at her. "Does it make a difference?"

Probably not, except that it would increase the likelihood of caves, and caves were excellent places to hide smuggled goods.

"Merely curious," she told Mirabelle.

And simply delighted when they made their way around the curve of the sh.o.r.e and she spotted large rock outcroppings in the distance.

"Shall we continue along here for now?" Mirabelle asked. "Then follow the hill and look out over the top?"

Kate nodded and eyed the rocks in the distance with both excitement and wariness. If there were any smugglers' caves hidden amongst the bluffs, she'd just as soon not get too close. She couldn't imagine there being any actual smugglers about in broad daylight, but it really wasn't the sort of thing one should chance.

An hour later, Kate decided that the view from the top more than made up for any lingering discontent she felt at not being able to explore the rocks below. The English Channel spread out endlessly before them in a display of ever changing blues and greens and even gold where the sunlight cut through the clouds to sparkle on the water.

"Oh, it's beautiful," Mirabelle breathed as the waves crashed violently against the rocks below and seagulls soared overhead.

"It is, isn't it?" Kate agreed. "You can see forever."

But being able to see forever and being able to look forever were two entirely different matters. Knowing their time was limited, Kate took several minutes more to enjoy the dramatic view before dragging Mirabelle away. They walked another quarter mile along the bluffs until they discovered a small section of the rocky cliff that gentled into a slightly less rugged hillside. A narrow path, just wide enough for a single horse, cut back and forth along the face, working its way down to a small sandy beach far below. A very very small beach, Kate noted. And with so many large beaches available nearby, it didn't make any sense for someone to go through the trouble of cutting out a path to a very small one...unless they had a good reason. small beach, Kate noted. And with so many large beaches available nearby, it didn't make any sense for someone to go through the trouble of cutting out a path to a very small one...unless they had a good reason.

Mirabelle pinned her with a hard look. "You are not not going down that path." going down that path."

Kate couldn't help shuddering a little at just the thought. Most people could probably manage the hike to the bottom without any great trouble. She She would probably fall before she was a quarter way down. would probably fall before she was a quarter way down.

She took an unconscious step back from the edge. "You'll have no argument from me."

Mirabelle nodded and looked up the coastline. "It's tempting to go a bit farther, but I suppose we should return before Whit comes looking for us. We've been snooping for the better part of the day."

"Exploring," Kate countered automatically and glanced back in the general direction of the house. "I'm rather surprised he hasn't come looking for us all ready."

Mirabelle shrugged and took Kate's arm to lead her away from the bluff. "He had business to attend to with Lord Brentworth. It must have taken longer than expected, or he would have come by now."

Kate glanced at her friend. "Are you going to tell him how we spent the day?"

Whether or not Whit was aware of the investigation, he'd be less than pleased with the news that she and Mirabelle had spent part of the day trying to open locked doors.

Mirabelle shrugged. "Only if he asks."

"Of course he'll ask." Hadn't they just been discussing how long they'd been gone?

"Allow me to rephrase that. Only if it becomes necessary that I answer him."

"Why wouldn't it be necessary-?"

Mirabelle smiled coyly. "He's easily distracted."

"How..." Kate made a face. "Never mind, I don't wish to know."

She might have-in fact, she would have demanded to know, in explicit detail, how one went about distracting a man-but not when that man was her brother. "I'll tell Mother you'll not be joining us for tea."

CHAPTER Twelve

Hunter considered himself a patient man-a very patient man, in fact, taking into account the very determined, very methodical way he'd built his fortune over the years-but twelve hours in the company of Lord Martin and his two obnoxious friends, Mr. Woodruff and Mr. Kepford, was enough to try even the patience of a saint. And he was no more saint than prince.

He took the side steps to Pallton House two at a time, eager to put some distance between himself and the drunken lot of idiots trailing behind him from the stables.

No wonder Whit had found the idea of trading missions for the day so d.a.m.n amusing. Lord Martin wasn't merely irritating, he was an endurance endurance, a trial, a plague among men. Very well, that last may have been overstating things a bit, but after twelve b.l.o.o.d.y hours twelve b.l.o.o.d.y hours of following the man about as he shopped for fripperies, drank to excess, and talked incessantly without saying anything of value, Hunter felt he was ent.i.tled to a little exaggeration. of following the man about as he shopped for fripperies, drank to excess, and talked incessantly without saying anything of value, Hunter felt he was ent.i.tled to a little exaggeration.

To make the day even more aggravating, he'd learned nothing more substantial than that Lord Martin knew how to get his hands on some very fine brandy. Even after he'd made certain to get the man well and truly foxed, Lord Martin hadn't let anything else slip. How the h.e.l.l did a man that stupid, that enamored with talking about himself, and that drunk, find the fort.i.tude to keep a secret?

"Hunder!" One of Lord Martin's friends called out from behind him. "Hunder, good man! Where are you-?"

"To the library for more drink!" he shouted over his shoulder.

He entered the house, closed the door behind him, and turned his steps away from the library. No doubt Lord Martin and his friends would reach that room, wonder a moment where he'd gone off to, and then promptly forget him as they poured another round of drinks.

Hunter wanted to forget them just as quickly. It wasn't yet ten o'clock, but he was officially declaring the day over. Lord Martin and his pack of giggling friends were once again Whit's responsibility, and he meant to inform Whit of that just as soon as he washed off the dust from the road. Probably, he should change his coat as well, as Whit was likely in the parlor with the rest of the guests. No doubt there wasn't one among those guests who would think twice about a man looking a little disheveled after riding in from town...if that man happened to be one of their own. In his his case, at least half of them would consider it evidence of his inherent inferiority and- case, at least half of them would consider it evidence of his inherent inferiority and- "Mr. Potsbottom, you will cease at once!"

The sound of Kate's angry and slightly m.u.f.fled voice coming from around a turn in the hall had him starting in surprise, then sprinting forward.

"Honestly, Mr. Potsbottom...what do you think...Enough!"

He turned the corner in time to see young Mr. Potsbottom attempting to wrap his arms around a struggling Kate, who was caught against the wall.

Hunter lunged forward, but before he could take more than two steps, Kate took care of matters by lifting her skirts with one hand and bringing up her knee to deliver a sharp blow where it would do the b.a.s.t.a.r.d the most amount of pain.

Mr. Potsbottom squealed and dropped to the floor.

Hunter reached them in three more long strides, and he wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her say something along the lines of, "Goodness, it really does work."

"Kate, are you all right?"

"What?" She blinked up at him, her eyes wide, her cheeks pale, and her breath coming in pants. "Oh. Yes. Yes, I am." She stared down at the writhing Mr. Potsbottom. "I kicked him. I can't believe I kicked him."

"Kate, look at me." He tipped her chin up with his finger. "Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

"No." She gave a minute shake of her head. "No, I'm quite well. Honestly."

She was was well, he realized, and not only physically unharmed, but apparently more stunned than frightened. well, he realized, and not only physically unharmed, but apparently more stunned than frightened.

"I kicked him." She blinked once more. "Well, I didn't actually kick. I used my knee-"

"Yes, I know. I saw."

And he felt just a trifle deflated. As a rule, he wasn't inclined to play knight-errant to distressed maidens, but in this particular instance, it was not only his job, but the maiden in question was going to be his wife. Now he was itching to plant the pup a facer and he couldn't very well do it while the pup was rolling about on the ground whimpering. Well, he could actually, but it wouldn't be the same.