*
Cecily rose fromthe bath and dried herself before the fire. Her mother surprised her when she instructed the maid to boil water for the hip bath. And light a fire in her bedroom. She never allowed baths on a weekday, considering a good wash with a flannel more than adequate. Had Harry put her mother to shame? Remembering how forceful he’d been brought a reluctant smile to Cecily’s lips.
Tying her dressing gown belt firmly, she sat to don her slippers, still exhausted despite the relaxing bath. It had been a horrid day. She was almost too tired to sleep or eat, but her mother had gone to the kitchen to see that a boiled egg and bread and butter was prepared for her.
She brushed her hair before the mirror. Without raising his voice, Harry had proved himself to be someone her mother could not browbeat. Cecily had no doubt he would get his way in the end. Her sight blurred, and she wiped away the tears. When he returned to his work in London, he would soon forget her.
After she ate, her mother suggested Cecily take an afternoon nap. She welcomed the chance to be alone, to think. She was lying on her bed in her shift and dressing gown, going over all that had happened to them since the first time she and Harry met when a pebble hit the window.
Cecily jumped up and drew back the curtains. Spying Harry below, she threw up the sash. She put her finger to her lips and indicated that her mother rested in her bedroom next door.
He nodded and gestured for her to come down.
Cecily closed the window and hurriedly threw on her coat, now sponged and restored to its former condition, and pulled on shoes. She went cautiously down the stairs, buttoning her coat. No one accosted her, and she slipped unobserved through the front door.
Harry waited for her. She led him into the shadows created by a tall hedge.
“What is it?” She searched his brown eyes. Pleased to be close to him again, she smiled as the sense of excitement and adventure she always felt when with him lifted her from the doldrums.
“Father is against me telling the vicar and the magistrate about Margaret’s skeleton,” he said. “He feels, quite rightly, that it will focus too much attention on you and damage your reputation.”
“But it must be done,” she said earnestly. Although the thought of the villagers’ condemnation made her stomach tighten. Coming home so early in the morning, the news of their escapade appeared not to have spread, but it would once the discovery of the skeleton came to light. Could she still work in the shop? It was the only thing she had to look forward to.
His warm smile made her heart turn over. “I knew you would say that.” He moved closer and held her chin in his palm, his thumb tracing just below her bottom lip. “What a grand girl you are,” he said huskily.
Startled, a glow of heat raced through her. A man had never touched like that. In fact, no man had ever touched her with his bare hand. At the few dances she attended, while her father was alive, men wore gloves. Harry’s hand was large, warm, and smooth. His eyes searched hers, and she thought he might kiss her. She wished he would, but he dropped his hand and moved away. “I shall not return to London and leave you to that fate. But I have thought of a way which might serve us all.”
She breathed deeply. “Oh, Harry, do please tell me.”
Chapter Seven
Cecily looked worriedbut also so determined it made his breath catch. He struggled with the desire to take her in his arms, to ease her concerns, as any man would do. He followed her to a garden seat shielded from the house by trees, and they sat close together.
“The 12th Duke of Somerset owns Berry Pomeroy castle. His grand estate is some distance from Totnes, but he has a mansion near St. Mary’s Church,” Harry explained. “Although I doubt he is often there, I might by chance speak to him, or at least send him a message in the hope he’ll take the matter out of our hands.”
Cecily frowned. “But will he? Lady Margaret was dead before he bought the castle.”
“That is true, but surely he would want the honorable thing done. After all, he is a direct descendant of the Berry Pomeroy line. And Lady Margaret is very much a part of the castle’s history. The tomb of Sir Richard Pomeroy and his wife is at St. Mary’s. And a monument in 1613 to Lord Edward Seymour, who died in 1593, and his son, Sir Edward Seymour and daughter-in-law, Elizabeth.” He paused, enjoying the lively expression in her eyes. “However, before we get too excited, the remains must be identified as Lady Margaret’s.” He smiled. “And I can hardly tell them her ghost led me to them. They will think I am mad.”
“Indeed.” Cecily nodded thoughtfully. “It certainly would be the answer. Then my life here will go on as before.”
Her blue eyes looked so sad, his heart turned over. “I must catch the train to London at three thirty from Totnes station.” His jaw tightened. “I’ll call at the church to speak to the vicar after I call in to the duke’s. I’m hopeful someone will listen to me.” He took her hand. “I shan’t see you tomorrow, Cecily. I wish we had more time together. You will write to me?”
“Of course, but you cannot go to the church without me, Harry,” Cecily cried. “I shall die of curiosity waiting for a letter. Life simply cannot go back to the way it was before you came here.” She gasped as if she’d said too much and firmed her lips. “Not until I know we have done right by Lady Margaret.”
“I cannot take you to Totnes with me, Cecily.” He wished with all his heart he could. “Your mother won’t allow it.”
“Mother and I work in the flower shop in Totnes tomorrow. I can slip away at luncheon and meet you.”
“If you could, that would be splendid.” Harry’s heart leapt at the opportunity of spending more time with her. He wasn’t sure how he could bear leaving her. Yet he must go, or he would lose his job, and his superior had hinted at offering him a better position. It would increase his salary, a gratifying possibility, as they gave most senior posts to married men.
He released her hand, realizing he’d kept it in his grasp, and stood. “You must go back. It wouldn’t be wise if your mother saw us.”
“No, it wouldn’t. Harry, I shall see you at twelve o’clock at St. Mary’s. Please wait for me.”
“Of course I will.”
She stood hesitantly, as if reluctant to leave him.