against a
boulder.
The path down the cliffs was safe enough if one was familiar with it, but there were some tricky patches.
Harriet wished she could wear breeches when she went out to hunt fossils, but she knew Aunt Effie
would collapse in shock if the notion was even casually put forth. Harriet tried to humor her aunt insofar
as it was possible.
She knew Aunt Effie was opposed to the whole matter of fossil hunting in the first place. Effie
considered it an unseemly occupation for a young woman and could not comprehend why Harriet was so
passionately devoted to her interest. Harriet did not want to alarm the older woman any further by
pursuing her fossils in a pair of breeches.
Heavy tendrils of mist coiled around Harriet as she reached the bottom of the path and paused to adjust
the weight of the bag she carried. She could hear the waves lapping at the shore, but she could not see
them in the dense fog. The damp chill seeped through the heavy wool of her shabby dark brown pelisse.
Even if Gideon did put in an appearance this morning, he probably would not be able to find her in this
fog, Harriet thought. She turned and started along the beach at the base of the cliffs. The tide was out,
but the sand was still damp. When the tide was in, there was no beach visible along this stretch at all. The
seawaters lapped against the cliffs at high tide, flooding the lower caves and passageways.
Once or twice Harriet had made the mistake of lingering too long in her explorations inside the caves and
had very nearly been trapped by the incoming tide. Memories of those occasions still haunted her and
caused her to time her trips into the caverns with great care.
She walked slowly along the base of the cliffs, searching for footprints in the sand. If Gideon had come
this way a few minutes ahead of her she would surely be able to distinguish the imprint his huge boots
would leave. Again she questioned the wisdom of what she had done.
In summoning Gideon back to Upper Biddleton she had obviously gotten more than she had bargained
for.
On the other hand, Harriet told herself bracingly, something had to be done about the ring of thieves who
were using her precious caves as a storage facility. She could not allow them to continue on as they were
now. She simply had to be free to explore that particular cavern.
There was no telling what excellent fossils were waiting to be discovered in that underground chamber.
Furthermore, Harriet reminded herself, the longer she allowed the villains to use the cave, the graver the
risk that one of them might be shrewd enough to start digging for fossils himself. He might find something
interesting and mention it to someone else, who might just mention it to another collector. Upper
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Biddleton might be overrun with fossil hunters.
It was unthinkable. The bones waiting to be discovered in these caves belonged to her.
Other collectors had explored the caves of Upper Biddleton in the past, of course, but they had all given
up the search after finding nothing more interesting than a few fossil fish and some shells. But Harriet had
gone deeper than anyone else and she sensed there were important discoveries waiting to be made. She
had to find out what secrets lay in the stone.
No, there was no choice but to proceed along her present course, Harriet decided. She needed
someone powerful and clever to help her get rid of the thieves. What did it matter if Gideon was a
dangerous rogue and a blackguard? What better way to handle the thieves than to set the infamous Beast
of Blackthorne Hall on them?
Serve them right.
At that moment the fog seemed to swirl around her in a slightly altered pattern. Harriet halted abruptly,
aware that she was no longer alone on the beach. Something was making the hair on the nape of her
neck stir. She whirled around and saw Gideon materialize out of the mist. He walked