Now retired, he worked at the Home Office in the clandestine consortium of espionage. More importantly, while tall and broad of build, Temple’s sandy hair, friendly brown eyes, and easy smile engendered instant trust in almost anyone he met. He could be anyone’s friend or confidante, or nothing more than a shadow.
Connor had thought to have him poke about Aylesbury to unearth any potential threat to Piper. With that threat now exposed, he had other ideas.
“Drink?” he offered first. The night was late, trains in and out of the area long suspended for the day, which meant Temple had either ridden all the way out here or came by carriage. Either way, the effort was deserving of refreshment before he requested favors.
“Scotch, if there’s a proper one handy.”
Arching an amused brow, Connor went to the sideboard. “Is that a preference or is the company of an overabundance of Scotsmen wearing off on ye?”
Temple laughed and perched one hip on the desk, sorting through the books and papers as Piper had. “If it’s an acquired taste, I suppose I’ve acquired it. What’s all this?”
“Research for the estate.”
“Yours?”
Returning with a pair of tumblers, Connor handed off one and held his up in silent toast. “Aye.”
“I didn’t know any of the MacKintosh lads had taken up farming.” Temple chuckled as he took a sip.
“Proudly.” At least now, after a certain lass had—subsequent to considerable teasing—deemed it a worthy occupation. “Ye dinnae ken? Yer skills maun be slipping.”
“They may slip but they never slide.”
Connor laughed with him as they toasted the sentiment. “Amen to that.”
Temple cocked his head to the side, his expression sobering thoughtfully. “What is it I can help you with?”
“I came across a wee, wily fellow in the village today harassing a pair of local ladies, Miss Jane Langston and Mrs. Milbourne,” he caught Temple up on the problem. “This man, Granger, was hired to question Miss Langston in an effort to discover Mrs. Milbourne’s whereabouts.”
The agent shook his head as if already disgusted by Granger’s lack of perception, while Connor imagined Temple had promptly deduced a great deal more. He didn’t fail the assumption.
“It didn’t occur to him that this Miss Langston’s companion was the woman he sought?”
“No’ initially. We cannae all be as keen as ye.”
Temple frowned, tapping his chin. “Langston. Langston. Where have I heard that name?”
“The neighboring estate Meadowcroft is owned by a Mr. Reginald Langston,” Connor offered.
The other man snapped his fingers. “Yes, that’s it. I was at Lady Onslow’s ball last Season. May, I think it was. While I was dancing with Fiona, there was something of a scuffle between Langston and the gentleman dancing with his daughter. Miss Langston. Jane, I believe?”
A sneaking suspicion furrowed Connor’s brow. Another piece of a puzzle he knew he should be able to solve. “Who was she dancing with?”
Chapter 15
A few sparse weeks more and Harry’s approval of this sham of a marriage will no longer be required. Mother continues to insist it is what’s best for me. I refuse to gain my majority and the right to marry by my own choice only to have that decision taken from me.
~from the diary of Piper Brudenall, January 1893
“You’re going to wear a hollow in the ground as deep as this trough,” Albert grumbled, as Piper paced a short stretch near the paddock.
Perching herself on the top rung of the pasture fence with her heels hooked on the one below, she propped her elbows on her knees and watched as he pumped more water into the trough. Better than scanning the drive in anticipation of Connor’s return. Like a watched pot coming to boil, he wasn’t likely to appear under a vigilant eye.
“What could be keeping him?”
She’d awaited the results of his excursion into the village with far better patience earlier in the day. After pacing a path into the rug at her cottage, she decided to seek out her answers at the stables. It had been a surprise to discover he hadn’t yet returned.
The younger stable lads filled buckets from the trough for each stall in the stables. Besides Dandy and Connor’s horse, who she’d discovered was simply called Horse, Harry’s team of four matched bays were currently housed within along with his personal mount, a half dozen Thoroughbreds he’d once raced, and all of the work teams kept to plow the fields.
