Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen
 

It was faint, but definitely there. Dev heard it as soon as he reached Léonie’s side. She had her fingers to her lips and he’d kept silent, nodding as soon as he heard the call.

“It’s coming from the cave,” she whispered. “Someone is in there.”

“Yes.” Dev hesitated. He was out of his depth at this point, unwilling to go into a dark cave when they were already trying to solve what had turned into a dangerous mystery. He held back a moment. “Did you find something out here?”

“Yes.”

They both kept their voices low as she showed him the hole in the cliff face where something had been removed.

The call came once more, and Dev knew it could not be ignored.

“All right. Léonie, you must promise me you will stay well behind me. I won’t leave you out here alone, but we have no idea what’s in that cave, so I advise caution.”

She nodded. No arguments from her at this point. But she picked up a large rock and handed it to him, and found another for herself. “Just in case.”

“Good thinking.”

It was impossible to approach the cave with any kind of stealth—the pebbles crunched no matter how lightly one walked. Tense as a drum, Dev approached the entrance.

“Who’s there?”

“Help me…I’m hurt. Please…”

Dev felt Léonie step up behind him, and frowned that she would so quickly have disobeyed his instructions.

“Dev. I think…I think I know who it is…”

She rushed past before Dev could stop her and he hurried after her, skidding a little on wet seaweed as they entered the darkness.

“Oh
mon Dieu
…”

He blinked, letting his eyes get accustomed to the dim light in the cave, coming from reflected sunlight on the ocean.

Léonie was on her knees beside a man who leaned against a large rock. His hair was white and there was blood on his face.

“Dev,” she cried, “It’s…
Papa
.”

I was not expecting that.

The thought flew through Dev’s mind as he frowned at his fiancée. “Are you sure?”

Both faces turned to him with expressions of incredulity.

“Well forgive me, but Colonel Girard is the last person I’d expect to find injured in a cave on a remote beach at the western end of the Isle of Wight.” He felt the need to defend himself.

“The man has a point, my dear.”

Léonie snorted. “Dev, come over here and meet my father. Trust me. I do know him quite well. I’ll be happy to vouch for his identity. If you happen to have a bible on you, I’ll swear on it.”

“Don’t get snippy.” Dev made his way to the couple. “How bad are your injuries, sir?” He leaned down and looked at the man’s head.

“I’ve a terrible headache, young man. But that will pass. It’s my damned ankle that is causing the most trouble.”

Dev looked toward the Colonel’s feet. And swallowed down a groan. One foot was definitely pointing in a direction nature never intended. This was a bad one. He was pretty certain it was broken.

“Oh Papa,” Léonie was touching him, trying to help him. “How long have you been here?”

“A day, I believe. No more. I came last night, you see. There was no other option.” He took a breath. “But it turned out I wasn’t the first one here.”

He nodded to one corner of the cave.

There was a bundle of clothing lying there, and Dev was pretty damn sure that those clothes were wrapped around a body.

“Oh Jesus.” He swore softly. “You fought?”

The Colonel nodded. “I haven’t forgotten all my tricks, but it was not an easy battle. The seaweed finally did me in, but not before I…” his voice tapered off.

“You killed him.” Léonie finished his sentence.

“I did. This was an unfortunate situation. He could not afford to let me live. I was not about to die. There was only one outcome and only one of us would walk away.”

“Who was he?” Léonie asked the logical question.

“An enemy. He’d followed my trail and guessed my destination. He was waiting for me and after I’d found what I sought he attempted to take it for himself…”

The Colonel’s voice was weak but calm. It was the diplomat and the spy speaking, detailing the necessities of harsh and unspeakable actions. This was the man that had so many countries applauding his decisions.

In that moment, Dev could see why. He could also see where Léonie had learned her self-control.

“We’ll talk of this later, Papa.” Léonie flashed a glance at Dev. “The first thing we need to do is to get you out of this cave before the tide comes in.”

“My apologies if I was rude earlier, sir. I’m Delaney Deverell. I’m your daughter’s fiancé.”

Girard’s head jerked up. “Is this so? Léonie?”

“Um…another conversation that can wait. We must get you out of here and safe before we start talking about such matters.”

“She’s right, of course.” Dev moved to the side. “Best get you on your feet. Or foot, as the case may be.”

It was a struggle, but between the two of them, they managed to assist the Colonel onto his one good leg. He swayed a little as he stood. “Let me catch my breath if you would?”

As the sun lowered in the sky, its light streamed into the cave, and Dev could see more clearly why Girard had fallen. The floor was awash with slick fronds of green weeds, their surface designed to make the hardiest explorer feel like he walked on ice.

“A moment, sir.”

Walking to the body, Dev pulled away the coat that covered the body. It wasn’t pretty since a killing blow from a rock did little for anyone’s looks. But there was a shining pistol tucked into an inner pocket, and Dev took it.

It seemed the right thing to do.

“We will have to leave him here.” He stood, holding the gun. “But I’ll take this. Do we need anything else?”

Girard shook his head. “No. I believe I know who he is, or was, and I will send people to take care of it. I have the thing I came for. It was where I expected it to be. In the stars of the cliff and it’s the only thing that matters here.” He glanced at his daughter. “Besides you, my dear.”

Reaching awkwardly into one of the large pockets of his coat, he pulled out something that made both Léonie and Dev gasp.

An inlaid box, larger but otherwise almost identical to the one Léonie’s ring had opened. There were bits of chalk and sand clinging to it, but neither detracted from its impact.

Dev just shook his head. “I cannot take any more surprises in one day, or I shall end up a drooling, babbling idiot.”

Léonie glanced at him and opened her mouth.

“Don’t say it.” He glared at her.

Amazingly, she giggled.

And that was followed by a speaking look from her father who glanced at her, then Dev, then back at her.

“You say you’re engaged?”

“After a fashion, yes, Papa. It’s a long story though. We need to get you to a doctor first. Then there will be time for all that.” She touched him again, almost as if she were afraid to lose him.

“The sun has almost set so I hope we’ll find the Whisper waiting for us, or at least on her way.” Dev hoisted Colonel Girard up again and helped him secure the box in his coat. “Can you manage to hop a bit like this, sir? It won’t be easy over those pebbles…”

“I think I can manage, lad. With your strong shoulder and my daughter’s arm, of course. As long as I don’t have to run anywhere I believe we can move. I do not want to linger here any longer.” He took a last look around. “
Merde
. What a mess.”

Dev had a strong feeling he wasn’t referring solely to the incident in the cave. There was more going on here than they knew. And with luck, the Colonel would be able to finally enlighten them.

He had been quite correct though, in his assumption that the going would be rough. The pebbles slithered around and it was difficult to keep one’s footing while supporting a grown man who could only put one leg on the ground.

Dev made sure that the brunt of Girard’s weight fell on him every other step, letting Léonie act as a steadying touch and a secondary support. They made their way from the cave, avoiding as much of the seaweed as they could, and then crunching laboriously out onto the beach itself.

By the dying rays of the sun, Dev caught sight of the most glorious vision—the Whisper, her anchor down, drifting on vermilion waters.

“Oh thank God.” Léonie echoed his thoughts. “Our boat, Papa. She’s here. Now we can get you some assistance.”

“Ahoy, the Whisper.” Dev hailed Miss Crispin.

“Ahoy ashore. Do I need to come in closer?”

“If you can. We have an injured man with us.”

“So I see. Aye aye, give me a minute.”

Dev reminded himself about that extra coinage because Miss Crispin was earning it ten times over. In a skilled maneuver, she brought the boat as close in as before, but then somehow managed to spin it so that it was broadside to the shore.

This allowed her to drop a gangplank into the shallow water, so even though they were all going to get a bit wet, they would have solid wood to climb up and not face the issue of carrying the Colonel over the railing and into the boat.

“Miss Crispin, if I weren’t already engaged, I believe I might ask for your hand in marriage.” Dev wanted to hug her, but she wasn’t looking at him as though such a gesture would be appreciated or reciprocated.

“Good thing you can’t. I’d turn you down flat and not mess words doing it. Nothing you could offer me would be better than this.” She drew up the gangplank as Léonie settled the Colonel onto one of the benches. “Sailing at sunset is about as good as life gets hereabouts. It’ll do me just fine.”

And indeed, shattered though he was by her blunt refusal, Dev had to agree. The brilliant streaks in the sky danced off the calm waters and within moments the sails were flapping softly above them as a gentle evening breeze carried them back around the Needles and toward their destination.

He looked back at the beach and for a brief instant—he saw stars. Half a dozen glittering flashes where the setting sun reflected off faceted bits of something in the chalk. Fossils, or perhaps some kind of quartz stone. He didn’t know, but they were there. The clue had been correct.

Although Dev had, by his count, at least a million questions for the Colonel, he couldn’t help but notice the man’s pallor. He’d been without food and water for at least a day and had a broken ankle to boot. Not to mention he’d had to share quarters with the man he’d killed.

Dev knew if he had been through that, he’d have looked a bit peaked as well. Léonie was giving him some fresh water, so that would help, but for now those questions would have to wait.

They sailed on in silence, the occasional call of a bird heading to its nest was the only thing to disturb their peace.

He stood next to the wheelhouse, letting Léonie enjoy these first moments with her father. He guessed she would be bubbling over with questions as well, but that incredible control had kicked in and she was simply sitting next to him, holding his hand.

“Damn.” Miss Crispin glanced behind her. “I was afraid of that.”

Dev turned. “Crap.”

“What is it?” Léonie called.

“Fog, dammit. Comes in after sunset when the weather’s good. Here, hold this.” She pulled Dev’s arm and put his hand on the wheel. “Hold it steady.”

He did as he was told, while she moved about the boat adding sail where she could. Finally, she returned. “I doubt we can outrun it, but we’ve got enough distance to make it to Totland, I know.”

Dev saw the frown. “What’s the problem then?”

She turned to him and lowered her voice. “Totland’s got cliffs. Bit of a climb to get to the village and it’s very small. May not have a doctor for him.” She nodded at Girard.

Dev groaned. “Other suggestions?”

“Yarmouth. Good anchorage, doubtless a doctor or two and places to stay for the night. We’ll not get much further with this closing in. Only thing is, we may run out of wind. You up for a bit of rowing?” She eyed him dubiously.

He drew himself up. “Miss Crispin, you are looking at one of the shining lights of the Oxford rowing team.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And how long ago was that, then?”

“Miss Crispin, you are also a cruel woman. But if needs be, I can handle an oar.”

She nodded and then spun the wheel a little. “Catch a bit more wind away from land. Light that …” she pointed to a glass lantern hanging from the inside of the wheelhouse, “and hang it up there. Port side. Then light that one and hang it aft.”

That he could do, and within a few minutes their vessel carried the obligatory red light on the port side and white light astern. Since the ocean gods had seen fit to provide a few more minutes of breeze, they kept ahead of the fog. It chased them for at least an hour, into the darkness, but never quite caught them.

Dev felt like he was “it” in a dangerous game of tag. The moon rose, shedding its light on their progress, and soon thereafter, Miss Crispin sighed with relief. “Yarmouth ahead.” She nodded. “We’ll make it now, all right. No need to flex those rowing team muscles of yours.”