A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(4)

“Er . . . sandstone, I think.” Susanna directed their attention to a red-shuttered façade across the lane. Wide window boxes spilled over with blossoms, and a gilt-lettered sign swung noiselessly in the breeze. “And there’s the tea shop. Mr. Fosbury, the proprietor, makes cakes and sweets to rival any London confectionery’s.”

“Cakes?” Mrs. Highwood’s mouth pursed in an unpleasant manner. “I do hope you aren’t indulging in an excess of sweets.”

“Oh no,” Susanna lied. “Hardly ever.”

“Diana has been strictly forbidden to indulge. And that one”—she pointed out Minerva—“is tending toward stoutness, I fear.”

At her mother’s slight, Minerva turned her gaze to her feet, as if she were intently studying the pebbles beneath them. Or as if she were begging the ground to swallow her whole.

“Minerva,” her mother snapped. “Posture.”

Susanna put an arm about the young woman, shoring her up. “We have the sunniest weather in all England, did I mention that? The post comes through two times a week. Can I interest you all in a tour of the shops?”

“Shops? I only see one.”

“Well, yes. There is only one. But it’s all we have need of, you see. Bright’s All Things shop has everything a young lady could wish to buy.”

Mrs. Highwood surveyed the street. “Where is the doctor? Diana must have a doctor nearby at all times, to bleed her when she has her attacks.”

Susanna winced. No wonder Diana’s health never fully returned. Such a useless, horrific practice, bleeding. A “remedy” more likely to drain life than preserve it, and one Susanna had barely survived herself. Out of habit, she adjusted her long, elbow-length gloves. Their seams chafed against the well-healed scars beneath.

“There is a surgeon next town over,” she said. A surgeon she wouldn’t allow near cattle, much less a young lady. “Here in the village, we have a very capable apothecary.” She hoped the woman would not ask for specifics there.

“What about men?” Mrs. Highwood asked.

“Men?” Susanna echoed. “What about them?”

“With so many unwed ladies in residence, are you not overrun with fortune hunters? Bath was teeming with them, all of them after my Diana’s dowry. As if she would marry some smooth-talking third son.”

“Definitely not, Mrs. Highwood.” On this point, Susanna need not fudge. “There are no debt-ridden rakes or ambitious officers here. In fact, there are very few men in Spindle Cove at all. Aside from my father, only tradesmen and servants.”

“I just don’t know.” Mrs. Highwood sighed, looking about the village once again. “It’s all rather common, isn’t it? My cousin, Lady Agatha, told me of a new spa in Kent. Mineral baths, purging treatments. Her Ladyship swears by their mercury cure.”

Susanna’s stomach lurched. If Diana Highwood landed in a spa like that, it might truly be the end of her. “Please, Mrs. Highwood. One cannot underestimate the healthful benefits of simple sea air and sunshine.”

Charlotte tugged her gaze from the ruined castle long enough to plead, “Do let’s stay, Mama. I want to take part in the midsummer fair.”

“I believe I feel better already,” Diana said, breathing deep.

Susanna left Minerva’s side and approached the anxious matriarch. Mrs. Highwood might be a misguided, overwrought sort of woman, but she obviously loved her daughters and had their best interests at heart. She only needed a bit of reassurance that she was doing the right thing.

Well, Susanna could give her that reassurance truthfully. All three of the Highwood sisters needed this place. Diana needed a reprieve from quack medical treatments. Minerva needed a chance to pursue her own interests without censure. Young Charlotte just needed a place to be a girl, to stretch her growing legs and imagination.

And Susanna needed the Highwoods, for reasons she couldn’t easily explain. She had no way to go back in time and undo the misfortunes of her own youth. But she could help to spare other young ladies the same friendless misery, and that was the next best thing.

“Trust me, Mrs. Highwood,” she said, taking the woman’s hand. “Spindle Cove is the perfect place for your daughters’ summer holiday. I promise you, they will be healthy, happy, and perfectly safe.”

Boom. A distant blast punched the air. Susanna’s ribs shivered with the force of it.

Mrs. Highwood clutched her bonnet with a gloved hand. “My word. Was that an explosion?”

Drat, drat, drat. And this had all been going so well.

“Miss Finch, you just claimed this place was safe.”

“Oh, it is.” Susanna gave them her most calming, reassuring smile. “It is. No doubt that’s just a ship in the Channel, sounding its signal cannon.”

She knew very well there was no ship. That blast could only be her father’s doing. In his day, Sir Lewis Finch had been a celebrated innovator of firearms and artillery. His contributions to the British army had earned him acclaim, influence, and a sizable fortune. But after those incidents with the experimental cannon, he’d promised Susanna he would give up conducting field tests.

He’d promised.

As they moved forward into the lane, a strange, low rumble gathered in the air.

“What is that noise?” Diana asked.