The path was well-groomed and she had no fear of losing her way, although it turned and twisted so many times she quite lost track of where on it she was supposed to be. The noise of the sea grew louder, so she knew she had to be going in the right direction, but she did not know if she would come upon the shore in another few feet or another half mile.
But there was another surprise waiting for her, as she broke at last into the open. A stretch of perhaps twenty yards of closely cropped turf lay between her and nothingness. Although the path did, indeed, lead to the sea, it gave out on a cliff overlooking waves pounding the shore far beneath her.
Seagulls hung in the air at the level of her eyes, hardly bothering to move more than a wingtip to keep themselves aloft, as a strong wind along the cliff-face did all of the work of flying for them. Below her, at the foot of a rocky escarpment, waves crashed against tumbled rock and sent spray halfway up the face of the cliff. There was a scrap of a beach down there as well, and what appeared to be a path leading up. She was not adventurous enough to care to trust it.
She walked cautiously to the very edge and looked down. It was several stories'-worth, at least, in height. It felt for a moment as if she were swaying, and she backed hastily away.
"Well," she said aloud, "if there were ever a place for a picnic more picturesque than this, I have never seen it. What's more, I'm hungry."
She checked the map again to make sure that she wasn't inadvertently trespassing, before settling in. A group of rocks made a convenient shelter from the wind, and in their lee side, the sun had soaked into them until they were quite comfortably warm. She spread out her napkin and the contents of the basket, and proceeded to enjoy herself. Once again, someone had anticipated her taste. There were no ladylike cress and cucumber dainties in this luncheon, but a thick slice of honey-cured ham on more of that tangy bread, garnished with lettuce and a hearty mustard, and accompanied by good sharp cheese and soft rolls. A bottle of lemonade was more welcome than wine would have been with a long walk in front of her. The only concession to femininity was a delicate jam tart.
When she had finished, she amused herself by flinging the remains of the rolls to the gulls. Although they were probably unused to being fed by humans, it did not take long for such supreme scavengers to grasp the fact that she was throwing edibles over the side of the cliff. Before long, they were swooping in and catching what she tossed long before it reached the foaming sea below.
The edge of the cliff seemed quite open in either direction, although the coastline made such twists and turns that it was not possible to see anything past the nearest promonotories. But if she followed the coastline north, she would, eventually, come to San Francisco. It would take a long time to walk there, particularly if she was burdened with a valise, but Jason Cameron did not have her trapped while she had two feet and shoe leather to cover them.
She did not need to consult the map again; there were no paths leading here other than the one she had taken. She lingered a while longer to give Paul du Mond ample opportunity to take himself about his business, then returned along the way she had come. There had been an apple among the luncheon things; remembering her promise to Sunset, she had not eaten it, but had tucked it back into the basket.
She was irrationally pleased when Sunset greeted her with a friendly whicker and trotted up to her before she presented him with the apple. Of course, he could have scented it—
Nevertheless, the feeling of his soft, warm lips on her palm as he gently took pieces from her made her smile, and when he followed along beside her like a puppy as she headed back towards the house, she smiled even more. If only she knew how to ride! But she was not foolish enough to dare putting a saddle on a stallion that no one but Cameron could ride, no matter how gentle and friendly the horse seemed!
It was just about sunset when she reached her room, leaving the basket just outside her door for one of the invisible servants to take away. There was a hot dinner waiting for her—one of the servants must have seen her feeding Sunset—and she found that she was starving although it seemed as if she had just eaten lunch. According to her watch, it had taken two hours to stroll down to the sea, but three to return, and the return trip had been all uphill.
It's just a good thing that I'm used to walking and I am still going to feel the results of my bravado in the morning, she thought as she attacked her meal with zest. Chicago is not known for its hills, after all!
She had just enough time by her watch to tidy up before her evening session of reading. She found, once she had done so, that she was a hundred times more relaxed than she ever recalled being for the past three years and more.
Well, she thought, as she lit the reading-lamp and waited for the voice of her employer to request the first book of the night, Perhaps there is something to be said for jumping off into the unknown, after all. What you cannot anticipate, you cannot dread.
As always, the study was in darkness except for a lamp, glowing under its heavy red-velvet shade. Jason Cameron folded his misshapen paws together beneath the shelter of his desk and regarded his employee and putative Apprentice with what he hoped was an icy calm. Of course, the lupine mask that was now his face was not well suited to expressing subtleties; if he was not in a deep and fiery rage, he tended to look calm and unruffled. But although Paul du Mond was a lazy fool he was not an unobservant lazy fool, and the less Paul knew, the better.
The younger man was dressed impeccably as usual, in an expensive tailored suit that Cameron's money had furnished, silk tie held with the diamond pin that was all that was left of his own "fortune." His handsome face bore an expression of dissatisfaction that he attempted to cover with an imperfect mask of deference.
Jason already knew about the encounter at the stable, but he was waiting to see if Paul reported it. If he did, well and good. If he did not—he would bear closer watching than Cameron had anticipated.
"Oh—and I met with Miss Hawkins just outside Sunset's paddock," du Mond said casually. "She was carrying a basket, so I assumed you knew she was going wandering and arranged for a luncheon." The slight rise of his eyebrow turned that into a question.
He nodded.
Du Mond frowned. "Do you think that's entirely wise? She might encounter one or more of your neighbors—"
Cameron laughed. "And what harm could that possibly do? What is wrong with my engaging another servant?"
But Du Mond grimaced. "She is not precisely a servant," the man pointed out. "Nor is she a guest. And she is unchaperoned."
The Firemaster shrugged. "She will style herself as such if she is wise and wishes to preserve her reputation. She won't tell anyone that she is here alone and unchaperoned. If she's foolish enough to do so, she will brand herself as one of my demimonde ladies, and my very proper neighbors will have nothing whatsoever to do with her. If she does not make that mistake, they will assume she is here with the appropriate protections and will not feel any great impetus to place themselves in the position of protector. The one thing I cannot be accused of is taking advantage of an innocent. All of my light-of-loves have been well-known professional ladies, and while my neighbors may find this a bit fast, they also feel it is to be expected in a vigorous man in my position. Moreover, since they have persisted in flinging their daughters at my head, I assume my reputation as a gentleman is intact. They would hardly wish to wed their offspring to a rake."