“I will remember that, lovely lady.” He nodded, his blue eyes alight again. “Now just one more thing…”
She waited, felt the heat blooming on her cheeks.
“There are quite a few cottages out on Hampstead Heath, and good number of ancient sand-pit ponds,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Is there anywhere else I can reach Steckles if I cannot find his home?”
“Well, he delivers milk, cheese, and eggs to the Spaniards Inn quite often. He stays for a meal and ale when he does. If he isn’t home, you can catch him there.”
He nodded. “I will remember that. But I hope to speak with him in private. The pond near his cottage is the largest in the area, you said?”
“It is,” she confirmed. “But you will not miss Frogbottom. It is very easy to find. Just watch for his badger.”
“His badger?”
“Yes.” She smiled.
He looked skeptical. “A man named Steckles who calls his home Frogbottom and who keep a pet badger.”
Melissa shrugged. “He is a good soul.”
“Aye,” he chuckled. “And we Scots ken the truth. Ye English are addled.”
