Juliana met his curious blue gaze, and despite the cautious alarm in her chest, her heart warmed at his inquiry. “Better, thank you.”
He nodded, and a moment of silence passed before Mr. Notley offered his arm. “Come. Let us return inside to Miss Notley.”
* * *
Clunk.He lowered his tankard back to the taproom’s table, the ale sloshing over one side and splattering onto the roughened tabletop, as he eyed the other patrons. There were only three others there tonight, each alone and hunched over their drinks. The place stank of sour ale and old potato pies, but it was somewhere warm to rest after spending five days trudging over fields and hills, and through the freezing fucking forest.
Bloody hell. Somehow, the bitch had evaded him. It wouldn’t, however, stop him from searching. In fact, it made him more determined to find her.
The familiar tingling heat reignited in his chest, and his lips curved upward in a wicked sneer.
He was reasonably certain that since he had not discovered her corpse among the snow—yet—that she must have inspired some sap’s pity and been permitted into their home. It was why he’d begun inquiring after her at every shop in Nottingham.Someonemust know where she was.
He took another gulp of his ale and grimaced before placing the tankard back on the table.Thunk.
The taproom’s door swung open on creaky hinges, and a jovial-looking man strode in, bringing with him a haze of powder on the air.
He hated him on sight. Too sodding happy.
“Martha!” the big man behind the bar shouted over his shoulder. “Flour man’s here.”
A petite woman with dark hair came to the front and greeted the large flour merchant. They exchanged goods while he watched in idle curiosity.
“Did you ’ear that Lord Livingston ’as a woman at ’is ’ouse?” the flour merchant asked.
Ears suddenly perked, he set aside his tankard and stiffened his spine.
“Does he, now?” the woman purred, clearly interested in the gossip.
The big man nodded eagerly. “I ’eard it myself just this mornin’. The woman came into some trouble, like. ’Eard ’e’s fixin’ ’er up; ’ad the doctor in and everythin’.”
Juliana. Blood rushed in his ears as anticipation flooded him. It was her. It had to be.
When he found her, he would right a wrong and take the bitch; it was what was agreed upon and what was best for the dukedom.
At long last, a smile tugged at his lips.
* * *
With a softclick,the library door closed behind Miss Smith and Elizabeth as they walked with a maid toward the nursery. Leo had promised to join her in a moment, but intended to give her time to acquaint herself with the space that would be hers.
He was also desperate to speak with Percy alone.
Footfalls, and the chatter of women’s voices, floated away down the corridor, and Leo spun to face his friend. “What the devil was that?”
“Miss Smith evidently experienced something emotionally disturbing. It might take time for her to recover from whatever she witnessed in that accident. From your bedchamber in the familial wing you mightn’t hear it, but she suffers from nightmares, often screaming in the night.”
“The doctor and the maids have mentioned it, yes,” Leo replied thoughtfully, shifting his stance from one foot to the other. “But what of her tale? We need to find that carriage and sort out what happened with the magistrate. Something does not feel quite right.”
Percy nodded. “Yes, I concur.”
“Did you get the sense that she was withholding a pertinent piece of information?” His man nodded again and Leo continued, “Mayhap she is protecting someone. Or she was travelling under duress.”
“Under duress?” Percy’s thick, dark eyebrows lifted in alarm.
“Come now, a woman travelling alone, at a pace that was undoubtedly too swift… Was she running? Is she frightened, or in danger?”
Percy shook his head. “You’re far too quick to assume that everyone is innocent or in some need of rescuing.”
