But when a large barn, not derelict and apparently very much in use, loomed ahead, she scanned the area, spotted a small tree to one side, and planned her approach. At the last moment, she pushed the chestnut into the lead, headed straight for that useful tree, pulled up, slid from her saddle to the ground—an admittedly precarious undertaking given the chestnut stood a good sixteen hands tall—regained her balance, and swiftly tied the chestnut’s reins to the tree.
She turned to find Sebastian scowling down at her.
But “Wait” was all he said.
She hid her grin and decided not to take umbrage at his tone. He would learn.
She duly waited while he dismounted and tethered the gray. She even allowed him to lead the way into the barn.
Searching that barn took some time—there were piles of hay to poke beneath and stalls, presently empty, to explore. But, once again, they found nothing.
In disaffected silence, they returned to the horses and mounted up again. As Sebastian turned the gray eastward once more, she glanced at him. His face, with its angular features and chiseled planes, would never be described as soft, but his expression was even more granite-like, more impenetrable than usual.
There was a hint of bleakness in his gaze as he scanned the area ahead of them.
She could understand. This might be something of an adventure, but it wasn’t a game. Gunpowder destroyed, not just buildings but people, too. There was duty of a sort weighing on Sebastian’s broad shoulders, and, now she thought of it, she felt she shared that burden.
They needed to find the gunpowder.
Not finding it would feel like failure.
And failure wasn’t something he was conditioned to accept, any more than she was.
They came upon two abandoned huts; one showed evidence of being used as a shed. Although she sensed it went against his grain—that he had to rein in his impulses to do it—he refrained from trying to stop her following him into the huts.
They shifted tools and checked the floors and, again, found nothing.
When they mounted and rode on, they could smell the sea.
Minutes later, they reached the bridle path that followed the edge of the cliffs. Judging by the position of the sun, barely discernible through the thick clouds, it was midafternoon. The breeze had picked up, and it was chillier this close to the sea.
They halted and looked around. Sebastian pointed to a fence a little way to the north. “That’s the boundary line. This is the northeastern corner of the estate.”
Looking farther to the north, Antonia glimpsed the distinctive walls of Walmer Castle a mile or so away.
Sebastian followed her gaze, then looked away. The sight of the castle was a stark reminder of his failure to locate the gunpowder. He turned the gray’s head to the south and nudged the heavy beast into a walk.
Antonia brought the chestnut alongside.
After a moment, he gave voice to his frustration. “I cannot believe Ennis used his last breath to tell me something that didn’t matter. So the threat posed by the gunpowder is real. More, it’s significant. And by here…he must have meant, at the very least, this estate. The missing three hundred pounds confirms that. And while it’s now nearly three days since he was murdered, and the barrels might well have been moved, we haven’t found a single place in which they might even conceivably have been kept.”
He glanced at Antonia.
Her gaze fixed ahead, she lightly shrugged. “So we keep searching. Ennis said the gunpowder was here, so it will be, or will have been, here, somewhere.”
He snorted disgruntledly. “Where remains our abiding question.”
She tapped her heel to the chestnut’s side and moved into a trot. “You scan the land, and I’ll search the sands.”
It was the same division of labor they’d used the previous day. He spotted an isolated cottage, and they diverted inland to search. Although a couple clearly lived there, the building stood empty. They searched, but found nothing.
Feeling increasingly helpless, he led the way back to the cliff path, and they continued southward.
After several minutes, she asked, “If they want to blow up something in England, why bother bringing gunpowder from somewhere else?” She looked at him and, when he met her gaze, arched a brow. “Don’t we have enough gunpowder in England?”
“We have plenty, and a lot of it is in and around London. But the Office of Ordnance keeps a strict tally of how much there is and where it’s stored. For someone wanting gunpowder to use illegally, stealing it would instantly raise an alarm.”
“All right.” She nodded. “So they have to bring it into the country, and that means by sea, and given we’re searching for hiding places along this coast, that means they’ve brought it this far by ship.” She glanced at him. “So why not take it directly to London? By water, it’s not that much farther.”