‘I ain’t never emotional,’ she growled.
‘I am never emotional,’ he corrected.
George glared at him. ‘If you’re going to continue working for me, it’s important that you provide a good first impression,’ he insisted at her mulish look. ‘If you’re going to fight me at every turn…’ He let the sentence trail off and raised his eyebrows.
Sighing, she acquiesced ‘I am never emotional,’ she repeated mockingly. Ignoring her sarcasm, he nodded his head. ‘Good. Now, would you like to engage in a game of cribbage?’
She pursed her lips before replying haughtily, ‘I have never played it, but if you wish to teach me, I am certain I shall be beating your arse by the end of the evening.’ He stared at her for a second, then burst out laughing. She grinned back as he shook his head and went to fetch the cards.
Her smile faded as he turned his back. Somehow she had to rid herself of this bacon brained attraction. Anthony Shackleford weren’t for the likes of her, and she didn’t dare allow herself to forget it.
Chapter Ten
‘It will be quite late by the time we reach Little Bovey, and I don’t believe descending without warning on Anthony would be advisable,’ Grace declared as the carriage got underway. ‘Especially as I very much doubt he will have any rooms ready to receive visitors.’
‘And if we simply turn up out of the blue, we might frighten the girl away,’ added Jennifer.
Reverend Shackleford frowned, but after a second, nodded his head. ‘I could do with a tankard of ale,’ he muttered. ‘I’m getting too deuced old for all this gallivanting round the country.’
Grace gave an incredulous snort. ‘I’ve not noticed any lessening of your urge to meddle,’ she retorted.
The Reverend sighed. ‘Deuced boring with just me and Agnes at the vicarage,’ he admitted. ‘I actually have to talk to her.’
‘And after all the effort you put in to seeing us all wed,’ the Duchess teased, struggling not to laugh. ‘And anyway, what happened to Agnes’s companion?’
It was the Reverend’s turn to snort. ‘Lasted all of three weeks. Said she feared for her life after Agnes gave her some concoction to help with her piles.’
Grace winced. ‘You really should put a stop to Stepmother’s obsession with physicks,’ she declared, ‘especially her proclivity for practising them on everyone she comes into contact with. It’s only a matter of time before she kills someone.’
‘Very likely me,’ her father muttered. ‘And don’t think I haven’t tried, but any deuced time we have the conversation, she swoons onto the nearest object which is all very well except when it happens to be me. Nearly gave me a deuced apoplexy the last time I had to carry her to the parlour.’ He shook his head and sighed; a picture of weary martyrdom.
Pressing her lips together in an effort not to giggle, Grace composed her face into one of sympathy, but her eyes caught Jennifer’s causing her daughter to cough hurriedly into Flossy’s fur.
‘I believe there’s an inn in Little Bovey that has a reasonable reputation, she said after she had her urge to laugh under control. ‘I’ve told Thomas to drive us straight there. We shall take a room for the night and visit with Anthony in the morning.’ Her father brightened and nodded. ‘Hopefully, they’ll have a good beef stew,’ he declared, rubbing his hands. ‘Tasty they might be, but I have to confess I’m getting deuced weary of Mary’s mutton pies.’
∞∞∞
‘She din’t get as far as Plymouth, m’lud, I’d stake me life on it.’
‘I would not make such a jest if I were you.’ The icy response caused beads of sweat to gather along Henry Atkins’s forehead.
‘I’ll find ‘er, yer ludship,’ Atkins avowed, feeling the nervous sweat begin trickling down past his ears.
‘We know she got on the Plymouth stagecoach,’ the cold voice continued evenly, ignoring the large man’s vow. ‘It had a problem with one of its wheels not far from the village of Blackmore. The coach driver remembers a lad getting off with all the other passengers, heading for the Red Lion Inn, but the boy didn’t get back on the stagecoach the following morning.
‘According to those who were present that evening, a young boy was not among those who arrived at the inn looking for accommodation.’ There was a pause and the sweat dripped down into Henry Atkins’s collar. ‘However, when I questioned the clergyman, he was hiding something, I’m certain of it.’
‘I din’t see no God botherer, but no one I spoke to ‘ad seen a lad,’ Henry hurriedly asserted.
‘There’s one more thing you need to take into consideration.’ The voice had turned back to ice. ‘Blackmore is Nicholas Sinclair’s country seat. If she comes to his attention, well let’s just say, it will be infinitely worse for you, Henry.’
∞∞∞
‘Hold it still,’ Anthony grunted. ‘Whatever you do, don’t move.’
‘Ow long for,’ George panted back. ‘I swear Goliath ‘issen would ‘ave dropped it by now.’
‘Goliathhimself,’ Anthony corrected eying the length of wood critically. After a few seconds he nodded to himself and hammered in three nails at exact intervals.
