For a moment she was disoriented in her new surroundings: a spacious suite of third-floor rooms overlooking the sea at Kevernwood Hall. It was the sound of the sea that woke her. The flaw was at the full height of its fury, flinging diaphanous clouds of spindrift over the brow of the cliff below. Little by little the events of the past twenty-four hours trickled back across her memory and her heart leapt. It wasn’t a dream. Rupert had disgraced himself on the dueling ground and they had left him standing in the teeming rain on Bodmin Moor, shouting ugly threats after them as Simon’s carriage sped away. They had arrived at Kevernwood Hall very late. The earl needed stitches, and his doctoring in Bodmin village took longer than anticipated. While that was taking place, Phelps saw that she and Crispin were well fed at the Heatherwood Arms, since they wouldn’t be stopping again until they reached Newquay in an effort to outrun the storm that was headed west toward the rocky coast. During the earl’s absence, Jenna had plenty of opportunity to question Crispin, but she decided against it.
