Dayna Quince [Quince - The Secrets Of The Sixth Night (The Northumberland Nine Series Book 6)

Luna slipped out of the kitchen door of the castle and into the small kitchen garden, clutching a basket tightly in her ungloved hand.

The only witness to her little excursion was one of the cats tasked with keeping vermin from infiltrating the kitchen. In the shifting moonlight, the little black cats eyes glowed in the silvery blue as it watched her. She paused outside the door, closing it quietly, making sure the latch hooked but did not lock so she could return. She adjusted her cloak around her neck, the tie digging into her skin, and then she moved on, through the garden and out through a waist-high picket gate to the path beyond.

She wasn't trying to be sneaky, though she'd rather not explain what she was doing out here in the dead of night, well after the guests of the house party, in which she was an honorary guest, had gone to bed.

In her other hand, she clutched a little sketch of the herb she needed to find. Really, it was a weed. In the light of day, it was virtually indistinguishable amongst its native brethren plants. But at night, she'd read, the little leaves of Star herb, as it was called, glimmered with a blue iridescent shine that set it apart from others. And according to the text, it could only be found near coastal rocks at low tide.

So here she was, traipsing across the castle grounds and toward the bluffs that led to the beach, and hopefully if luck favored her, she could find this little plant and add to the assortment of herbs and remedies in her collection. Luna's boots made a slick, swishing sound as she hurried across the lawn. There had been a short squall earlier in the evening, and the grass was quite damp, moisture wicking through her worn boots and seeping into her stockings. She hurried, hoping she would find her little plants and return to the comfort of her room. The warm fire in the grate could dry her stockings sufficiently to be worn again tomorrow.

She hated the feel of damp stockings. They were her only pair. Sometimes, in order to preserve their lifespan, she didn't wear stockings at all, but that was a scandalous secret she kept to herself.

During a house party with nine eligible wealthy gentlemen in attendance, she couldn't risk such a thing. Lord only knew what they would think of her if they saw her now. What if they caught her stockingless? She could picture it now, coming down the stairs on her way to breakfast, tripping and falling, and flashing her bare legs to her kneesif not higher.

She and her sisters were all under an immense amount of pressure as guests of this house party to make a match with one of the gentlemen present. It was the best opportunity they had in order to prevent a future that not only would be unpleasant but horrific.

And they weren't even certain what the future could be, but it loomed on the horizon.

A shadow, a bank of dark clouds.

Their father had spent years away, searching for husbands for the nine of them, but always returned empty-handed. She and her sisters had become somewhat of a local legend.

Nine impoverished daughters, all needing husbands, but not just any man would do.

Luna could love a butcher as easily as she could love a handsome lord, but a local butcher could not support her and her family. Though her father was fit and healthy right now, he had no male to inherit the Marsden home and lands. Cousin Irving would inherit upon their father's death.

Cousin Irving was a terrible specimen of a manalready married, which was a small blessing, sparing her and her sisters from that fate. He'd made it clear on each of his yearly visits since his marriage that he would not let them stay in their home when their father died. They would be pushed out, and all they could do for themselves was find husbands before that time came.

Luna knew she shouldn't feel as though an axe hung above her head. Her father was in the peak of health, better than most men his age, since there was no money for vices like cigars and alcohol in the Marsden budget. There was always more work to do than hours in the day, which kept him somewhat fit. But still, the more Luna learned about medicine and read about different diseases and illnesses, the more her worry grew. A person could be fine one day and gone the next. That was without accidental happenings like being thrown from a horse, falling down the stairs, or being gored by an angry bull.

Death spared no man.

So with every passing day that Luna and her sisters grew older, reaching spinsterhood without the protection of a husband, the noose around their necks grew a bit tighter.

Their neighbor, the Duke of Selbourne, and his new wife Violet had taken it upon themselvesquite generouslyto host them and nine eligible gentlemen with the hopes that a match would be made.

Rescuing the Marsden daughters from their uncertain fate.

Luna looked up into the big round moon as it broke through a curtain of clouds. Please, she prayed, let just one of these men fall madly in love with a Marsden.

She resumed her trek down the bluffs, not wanting to light the little stub of a candle she brought until she reached her location. Here at the top of the bluff, the wind was too strong to light it, but down below between the large boulders that lined the little cove, she could light her candle and hopefully find the Star herb quickly.

A thick, misty bank of clouds had rolled over the water and sat like a fluffy blanket. But higher in the sky, scattered clouds floated passively across the moon. Luckily, she had enough light to see by as she picked her way down the path to the beach, careful to not slip on any loose rocks or sand.

According to the medical text she'd read, Star herb liked the briny moist air near the water. It did not like to be submerged but preferred the dark damp crevices between the rocks, much like little crabs.

Luna shivered. She hoped she wouldn't come away from this little quest with a pinched finger. She veered off the path about halfway down, sliding between two large boulders and squatting to light her candle.

From the pocket of her brown wool cloak, she drew out a little box of matches and her candle. She set her candle on the ground and opened the little box. The rattle of the wooden matches was almost indecipherable against the quiet roar of the waves crashing on the beach. The wind picked up its speed, whistling through the rocks, and with it, she heard an eerie sound.