The School of Charm: Books 1-5
Page 61
She straightened with a little laugh as it waved its claws as if in greeting. Then she made a mental note to ask Rebecca about her progress in biology. Her father would no doubt wish to quiz her soon and it would not do if she were unprepared.
The father’s untraditional take on teaching his daughters everything he’d been taught, and what he expected his men to know—from geology to mathematics, from Latin to philosophy, from knot-tying to marine biology—this was why the townsfolk of Billingham had taken to calling the captain’s daughters his bluestocking battalion.
She suspected it was true that when he had led them into town—in formation back when they were younger and he was afraid they might get trampled by passing carts and carriages—they likely had looked like a small female regiment of some kind.
Her sappy little smile froze in place when a new sound cut through the usual background noise. She froze, her lips pursing and her brows drawing down in consternation as she listened intently.
There it was again.
A scraping. Then a clunking. Then a sort of...dragging sound coming from the cave’s mouth.
Someone was in there.
Her heart rate picked up with excitement—no, not excitement. Fear. Obviously. But even that was silly. It could have been Sally—but no, Sally had left after her and gone off in the opposite direction, and none of the other girls would venture down here during their daily afternoon walk.
It was probably just a local fisherman—who’d taken a wrong turn and found himself stranded on the cave’s edge?
No, that made no sense at all.
She frowned as she moved closer, choosing her steps carefully so she did not make much noise.
Why? She wasn’t certain. Perhaps it was just foolishness, but a voice in the back of her mind urged caution. She tiptoed along the outskirts of the cave until she caught sight of a rowboat lodged in the sand on the other side of the cave’s entrance. But no one was in it.
No one was visible, at least.
But someone was making that ruckus in the cave.
She paused, half of her itching to dive right in there and find out who was there, and the other half urging caution. Reason told her it was likely a townsperson, or a fisherman, or perhaps even one of her father’s men on a routine patrol of the coast.
Her gut was telling another story entirely.
Her heart raced with excitement as though this was Christmas and her birthday all rolled into one.
But, no. That was ridiculous. She turned. Forced her brain to take charge over her silly, silly heart. Emotions never led anywhere good. Only reason could be trusted. And logic told her that there was likely no big mystery at play.
“Minerva!”
Her name echoed against the cliff walls. It was Sally’s booming voice and the reminder she needed that even if she wanted to explore further, her time was nearly up.
She’d be expected back at the house, back to her duties soon enough. She’d best hurry; she’d likely need to make a quick stop at the stables to scold Hattie about reading novels when she was supposed to be stretching her legs.
“Min?” Rebecca’s voice joined Sally’s. No doubt they were standing at the cliff’s edge waiting for her to appear on the path. She might not have told them she was heading to the caves, but her sisters knew her just as well as she knew them.
If she did not appear back at home soon they would start to worry.
Minerva was never late.
With one last longing look toward the cave’s mysterious sounds and the phantom person responsible for them, she turned and headed back to her sisters.
Back to her real life.
To read more, check out Miss Minerva’s Militia.
About the Author
MAGGIE DALLEN IS a big city girl living in Montana. She writes romantic comedies in a range of genres including young adult, historical, contemporary, and fantasy. An unapologetic addict of all things romance, she loves to connect with fellow avid readers. Subscribe to her historical newsletter at http://eepurl.com/dgUNif or her contemporary newsletter at http://eepurl.com/bFEVsL
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