A few ladies passed them, earning a smile and nod from Jaxsen. He tipped his hat and, when he was sure they were out of earshot, answered. “He was a friend of my late father’s. We spent several weeks there for house parties in the fall once the Season was over.”
“Brilliant.”
“I’d like to think so,” he remarked, unable to hide a grin.
She halted her progress so quickly he nearly tumbled forward in efforts to stop. Collecting himself, he tugged his jacket back into place.
“Your brilliance remains to be seen, and until that point, your own opinion on the matter is of little consequence,” she replied smoothly, her fingers tugging on her gloves. “My opinion is what matters, and if I call you brilliant… well then… that will certainly be something, won’t it?”
He had the sensation she’d delivered a setdown without truly being offensive, and he wasn’t sure if he felt challenged to rise to the occasion or insulted that she seemed skeptical on that point.
“This won’t do.” She sighed and then leaned toward him. Pink lips were distracting as they mouthed words that seemed to slowly make sense. “You have to listen faster, Blueberry.” She gave a small giggle, the sound innocent, a stark contrast to all he’d heard regarding her.
Frowning, he wrinkled his brow. “Bluebery?”
“It’s my name for you. It fits, don’t you think?” She gave a little hitch to her shoulder and moved unrelentingly her way down the path, taking a left onto a lesser trail. “Are you coming?”
Emerson had been called many things in his life, some less tasteful than others, but Blueberry… that wasn’t exactly original.
At Eton, the first lad that had come up with the moniker had received a black eye. The same result wasn’t possible this time.
“Don’t look so upset, it could be worse.” She gave a wink and continued on, apparently no longer caring if he was following or not.
Or maybe she knew he’d follow.
Which of course, he did. One didn’t ignore the opportunity of training with the best. And unfortunately, that annoying little sprite in front of him was the best. God help him, it was going to be an interesting adventure.
But he was determined to pay attention. It was an off day, that was all. Or simply, that was what he told himself as he caught up with her. “It’s not original, you understand.”
She gave him a bemused expression. “I’m sure it’s not, but it is diverting.”
“For you.”
“Yes, for me,” she replied. “Now, back to the subject, Wessix’s house. Is there a servants’ entrance or exit that will allow us to gain access from the back? And where is the study? First or second floor?”
Emerson nodded. “If he’s secreting information across borders, he’s not doing it in his study.”
“You’d be surprised what people do when they feel immune.” Jaxsen’s tone was wry.
“He’s more of a cautious fellow -- damn near paranoid -- actually. Washes his hands fastidiously and employs a veritable army of maids to keep the estate clean. The china is even wiped before use for service, even if it had just been cleaned. Rather distressing to a child fond of dirt, you understand. The man always acted as if he were allergic to it.”
Jaxsen simply listened, and Emerson wondered what she noted that he’d missed. It was eccentric behavior, that was for certain, but it wasn’t odd to him because he’d always known Wessix to be that way.
“Entrances?”
“Ah, the back entrance is one that leads to a servants’ staircase that reaches every floor. The study is on the main level and two doors down from the stairway exit. In the evening, the house is dimly lit— He’s to bed early.”
“That’s helpful for us.”
“Not entirely. He’s a light sleeper. “Emerson had several memories of chastisement when he was too loud as a child and staying with his parents at the estate. The house parties at the Wessix estate were the most dreaded of all, at least for him.
“We can do something about the light sleep.” Jaxsen gave a conspirator’s grin and then halted just beside a fat oak. “Your file stated you were a sniper on the continent.”
Emerson nodded, unsure where the swift change in subject had come from.
“I’m assuming that translates to some sleuth.”
“You’d be correct in your assumption,” he answered simply, biting back a cocky remark regarding assumptions.
