The Reverend blinked at the sudden change in conversation. ‘I was thinking we’d borrow one of Nicholas’s carriages and go tomorrow,’ he responded. ‘There’s no sense in dilly-dallying. The sooner we get to the bottom of this mess, the sooner Anthony can … err … rid himself of his imposturous labourer.’
‘Then Lizzy and I shall accompany you.’ Agnes declared, much to the Reverend’s horror. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he managed to say a word, she added, ‘Since I cannot give my darling boy a safe refuge in his mother’s arms, I will make it my sacred duty to liberate him from theundesirablecurrently residing in his house.’
∞∞∞
Andrew Pettigrew stared intently at the small miniature.
‘Her hair may be slightly darker, and she could very well be dressed in lad’s clothing, but aside from that, it is a good likeness.’
‘And she went missing from here in Exeter you say?’ A short nod of confirmation.
‘We believe she was taking a stagecoach to Plymouth. The coach cast a wheel, and the passengers were forced to seek shelter in the village of Blackmore. It seems that no one in the village can remember seeing anyone answering her description, butsomethinghappened to prevent her getting on the coach the next morning. I suggest you start there.’
‘Was she still wearing boy’s clothes?’
‘That’s what I am paying you to discover.’
Pettigrew tucked the miniature into his pocket. He knew better than to ask any more questions. Likely the chit he was looking for was the nob’s by blow, but at the end of the day, it was none of his business. ‘How do I contact you when I find her?’
‘Take her to this address.’ Pettigrew took the card offered to him and raised his eyebrows.
‘There’s no way I’m venturing in there,’ he declared decisively. ‘I’ll be lucky to escape in one bloody piece.’ He looked up. ‘How about I send word here?’ He looked around the bustling inn. ‘I’ll hide her somewhere safe before I send the note. What name should I use?’ Pettigrew forced himself to meet his new employer’s stony eyes. If he backed down now, he’d be lucky to survive more than a day after catching the chit.
‘Address it to Mr. Field,’ was the eventual wintery cold response. Pettigrew nodded and turned to go.
‘And Mr. Pettigrew?’ The private detective stopped and looked back. ‘Don’t even think of crossing me. If you do, that pretty young woman you enjoy visiting every Friday … well, let’s say she won’t be quite so pretty when my associates have finished with her.’
∞∞∞
By the time they were served the promised oxtail stew, George suspected that she might be more than a little half-sprung. The afternoon had been lively verging on boisterous. With the storm raging outside, a large number of villagers had congregated in the Green Man for shelter, and for the landlord at least, the foul weather was providing a tidy profit.
For the most part, George sat tucked in the corner watching as Anthony traded good natured insults with the locals. It was obvious the village’s inhabitants were delighted Bovey Manor was to be a home once more, and the older ones had many an entertaining tale to tell about the previous owner’s escapades during summers spent in the manor.
Anthony hadn’t told her who owned the house before he did, but from the conversation, she suspected it might have something to do with his sister Grace. In truth, he knew far more about her than she did him, but while he possessed few of the airs and graces she’d come to associate with those swimming in lard, she did not think him from a poor background, for all that his father was a country vicar. His sister and cousin had been dressed in the finest attire and though she didn’t know whether he had any more siblings, it was clear that one sister at least had married well.
While she was undoubtedly a little foxed, by eight o’clock, Anthony was drunk as a wheelbarrow. As the jokes and comments became more ribald, she became increasingly certain that he had indeed forgotten she was a female. Torn between equal parts relief and irritation, George finally decided to head up to their bedchamber while the going was good. Hopefully, by the time he came up, he would forget she was there and simply pass out.
Well, that’s what she told herself while she stood in the doorway watching Nelson cock his leg up the nearest post and getting royally soaked in the process. Watching the dog do his business had her hoping their room had a chamber pot, though she’d need to use it before Anthony came to bed. ‘Bloody hell, Nelson,’ she grumbled as the mongrel immediately shook himself once he was back undercover, effectively showering her with water.
Gingerly picking up the wet dog, she went back through the bar, and without looking at Anthony, made her way up the steep winding staircase that led to the inn’s two bedchambers.
George had been mistaken in her assumption that Anthony had forgotten she was a woman. Indeed, he’d been so achingly aware that he’d deliberately set out to get himself foxed, also hoping he’d simply pass out once he’d made it to their bedchamber. He could not bear the thought of lying next to her sober while unable to even touch her.
At least in Bovey Manor there was a floor between them.
He made sure to remain down in the bar until the last customer went out to brave the storm. Then, bidding the landlord good night, he went outside and sprinted towards the stable to check on Horatio. Fortunately, the stallion didn’t appear unduly agitated by the wild weather and indeed was already half asleep. Stroking the horse’s nose, Anthony looked back outside. He was already half soaked. Going back the other way would finish the job.
Unless he stayed where he was.
The stable was warm enough, and there was plenty of straw to cover himself with should he get chilly. It would also keep him from temptation. Stepping to the stable door, he looked up at the bedchamber window. All was in darkness, so George was undoubtedly asleep. If he went up now, stumbling around in the pitch-black, he would almost certainly wake her. Despite his inebriation, his cock surged up in enthusiastic response, and Anthony gave a low groan, resting his head on the door frame. Staying put was most definitely the right decision, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
Chapter Fourteen
George had no idea what woke her up, and she lay staring into the darkness for a few seconds, completely befuddled, until memory came flooding back. All was silent. The rain had slowed, and the wind was no longer whistling around the eaves like an angry spirit. She was about to turn over, then stiffened, remembering Anthony was in the bed beside her. Motionless, she listened but could hear nothing. Evidently her employer was not a snorer. Nevertheless, she should at least be able to hear him breathing in the quiet.
Without thinking, she rolled over and stared in confusion at the empty space next to her. Sliding out her hand, she felt the cold dampness between the sheets. Anthony had obviously not come to bed at all. Heart thudding, she sat up. He wouldn’t have left without her, would he?
She turned her head and could just make out the small lump snuggled up next to her. Nelson hadn’t even moved. Her employer might have abandoned her, trouble that she was, but he’d never have left without his dog.
