Lord of Devil Isle by Connie Mason Page A

wished he could do as well by half.
    “Lord Nick’s regular lady?” Miss Upshall asked.
    “You know, ’is lady friend, ’is doxy, ’is—”
    “Th-that’s enough,” Pere muttered to the boy. The captain hadn’t ever made a secret of his relationship with Miss Frith, but there was no need for the lad to go blabbing everything he knew.
    “Is it much farther to the captain’s home, Mr. Higgs?” Miss Upshall asked.
    Higgs shook his head.
    “Just on the other side o’ that rise,” Reggie added, evidently unaffected by Peregrine’s rebuke. “Whispering Hill be one of the finest houses on the islands, you’ll bepleased to know. Even better than the guv’nor’s place, if you’re asking my opinion.”
    “Why’s it called Whispering Hill?” Sally Munroe asked. “Goodness! I hope it’s not haunted. It’s not, is it?”
    Peregrine chuckled. What an imagination she had! Along with shining blonde locks and the merriest brown eyes Pere had ever had the pleasure of gazing into.
    “ ’aunted? Go on wi’ you! Ain’t that a thought!” Reggie said. “Naw, it’s called Whispering Hill on account of the way the wind moves through the palms. Folks say it sounds like the island’s telling all its secrets, if a body were of a mind to sit still long enough to listen.”
    “How charming,” the quiet one said.
    What was her name? Oh, yes, Miss Smythe. Higgs remembered now, though her Christian name escaped him. He’d have to go back and check the ship’s log on the morrow.
    As the wagon cleared the rise, there was a collective gasp from the women behind him as Whispering Hill came into view. Seeing it afresh through their eyes, Higgs had to admit it was a fair treat.
    Long and low, with a number of little courtyards and curves, the house draped itself over the hilltop as if it had grown there. Its pale yellow walls peeped from behind curtains of bougainvillea and vining hibiscus beneath its starkly white roof. The bottle green jalousie shutters were all propped open a bit, like heavy-lidded eyes, to let the prevailing breeze cool the interior.
    “Mr. Higgs, do you live here, too?” Miss Munroe asked.
    Peregrine nodded, feeling the tips of his ears heat. He hadn’t even thought that far. He’d be living under the selfsame roof as this blonde goddess.
    He might never get another lick of sleep.
    “And now I live here, too!” Reggie proclaimed. “LeastwaysI live in the stable, I’d expect. There’s a snug corner or two there for the likes of me, I’ll be bound.”
    Peregrine drew the team to a stop, hustled himself down from the driver’s seat and nipped around to hand the ladies out of the wagon. Each murmured her thanks to him, but his fingers tingled when Miss Munroe slipped her small hand into his for a brief moment.
    “Oh, Evie.” Miss Munroe hugged her friend as she surveyed the house. “It’s not exactly a castle, but it is rather like a fairy tale, isn’t it?”
    The captain appeared in the open doorway to welcome them.
    “Complete with a dragon,” Miss Upshall said under her breath. Then she squared her shoulders and strode toward the door. Miss Munroe followed her.
    Miss Smythe started after them, but then stopped and turned back to Peregrine. Her gaze met his for a heartbeat and then settled on the ground before his feet. Several strands of her long brown hair fell forward to obscure her face.
    “Good day, Mr. Higgs. And thank you again.”
    “My pleasure.” He doffed his hat. “Good day to you, Miss Smythe.”
    She looked back up, her face dimpling in a shy smile. There was a smattering of freckles across her nose and apple cheeks. Miss Smythe bobbed a quick curtsey, and then scurried to catch up with the other women.
    Peregrine led the team to the stable to show Reggie Turnscrew what was what. The boy fully appreciated the opportunity he’d been offered and was keen to make himself useful. Peregrine set him to polishing the brass on the fancy carriage the Captain seldom used. Higgs