A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(102)

Where was she? He was growing desperate to see her.

“Lord Rycliff,” Miss Taylor said, “there are others, too. Everyone’s gathered at the Bull and Blossom.”

“The Bull and Blossom?”

“The tea shop,” she explained. “And tavern. Since it’s both now, the Fosburys made a new sign. Anyhow, what with the goings-on at Summerfield, we thought it best to move tonight’s party there. And most of the village has assembled this morning. Everyone’s waiting on your command.”

“It’s really not necessary,” Bram said, halfheartedly.

“Perhaps not,” said Aaron Dawes. “But maybe we want to see it through anyway.”

What an idea. To go forward with this militia review and grand party today, not for Sir Lewis’s pride or for Bram’s—but for Spindle Cove’s.

“We’ve all worked so hard, and looked so forward to today. We want to do it for ourselves, and for Finn. And for you, Lord Rycliff.” Miss Taylor plucked at her sleeve. “Miss Finch said you’d be coming back, and we must be ready to do you proud.”

“Susanna said that?”

“Yes.” The girl clasped her hands in delight. “Oh, Lord Rycliff. I just knew the two of you were in love. I knew you couldn’t leave her.” She bounced on her toes. “This is all going to be so very romantic.”

“With all that cooing, no one will take you for a boy,” Bram said, chuckling. Truthfully, he was trying not to bounce on his own toes with excitement. “Where is she now?”

“She’s gone home to have a rest and a change of dress, but she promised to meet us at the castle.”

Straightening his coat and running his hands over his hair, Bram looked to the other men. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

“Where is she?” Hours later, Bram stood impatient at the castle gateway, scanning the path for any sign of Susanna. All morning long, folk had streamed up the ancient road, traveling by cart, on horseback, on foot—some coming from ten or more miles away to watch the review. But none of them were the one woman Bram wanted to see.

“Most likely she fell asleep,” Thorne said. “She worked hard all night.”

“Perhaps I should ride down to Summerfield.”

“I’ve already stalled for time as much as I can,” Colin said. “If it were just a matter of the crowd, I’d say hold off. But generals and dukes aren’t used to being kept waiting. And perhaps Miss Finch needs her rest.”

Bram nodded his reluctant acknowledgment. The review itself wouldn’t take long. If Susanna hadn’t arrived by the end, he’d ride over to Summerfield straightaway.

Striding to the center of the green, he motioned for his men to fall in line. He surveyed them with no small measure of pride—his cadre of willing volunteers, all fitted out in their new uniforms and assembled to serve his command. What a band they were. Shepherds, fishermen, clergymen. A smith, a baker—no candlestick maker, but a boy, a young woman . . .

And a lamb. Dinner stood at his knee, tricked out in a jaunty red ribbon and bell.

Make no mistake, this was Spindle Cove.

Under festooned canopies, the visiting dignitaries and the ladies of the Queen’s Ruby sat ready to observe. The assembled villagers and country folk lined the castle’s perimeter. Children too short to see over the crowd had climbed atop the walls. Gaily colored banners flew from each turret.

With everyone in place, Bram mounted his horse and addressed his men. And woman. “I want you all to remember, we’re not alone when we take to the field. There are others counting on us to succeed. All the ladies of the Queen’s Ruby. Finn. And Miss Finch. Their faith in us—it’s sewn into the linings of our coats, rolled into every powder cartridge. And it’s in every beat of our hearts. We will not let them down.”

He looked from one solemn, determined face to the other, making eye contact with every last one of his men. To Miss Taylor, he gave a smile.

“Vicar, say us a blessing, if you will.” Bowing his head, he muttered, “We’re going to need it.”

Between the catastrophe yesterday and the subsequent lack of sleep, Bram wasn’t sure how the men would perform. But despite his misgivings, the drill went surprisingly well. The wheel maneuvers that had given them such fits in recent weeks came off smoothly—even the backward one. There was a bit of a misstep with the obliques, due to Fosbury’s persistent confusion of right and left. But with the firings, they ended on a high note. Thanks to Susanna’s tutelage, the men fired in swift, impressive unison—by file and as a company.

As planned, they capped the display with a feu de joie. All the men lined up in a single file, loaded their muskets, and fired in quick succession—much like opera dancers rippling kicks down the line. The wave of smoke and fire swept from one end of the file to the other.

When it cleared, the crowd broke into cheers and applause.

Bram looked from man to man. He could only imagine that they, like he, were quietly bursting with pride and relief. Only one thing could make this moment brighter.

“Bram!”

And that was it. Susanna’s voice. She’d come. She was finally here, and she’d arrived in time to witness her friends’ triumph.

“Bram!” she called again. Her voice was breathless. She sounded as excited as he felt.