A slight bow was all the acknowledgement he received to this exasperated remark. “I am here, my lord, at the behest of my client.” He held up a hand, the fingers delicately poised. “I do not refer to Miss Greenaway. There is, as no doubt your keen senses will have told you, another hand upon the reins, as it were.”
Feeling as much perplexed as troubled on Apple’s behalf, Alex was fairly bursting with impatience. “Well, who the devil is this mysterious client?”
“That, my lord Dymond, I am not at liberty to say.”
“Might have known it! Damn it, man, this is not to be borne!”
Vergette’s smile went a trifle awry. “You have my sympathy, my lord, I do assure you. Yet I will tell you as much as I am able if you will honour me with your presence tomorrow. Shall we say eleven o’clock?”
There was clearly no more to be got out of the man. Baffled and a good deal more troubled than angry, Alex left him. He could hear the hunt moving off already, and wished he might cry off as he ran lightly down the stairs. Dratted fellow was right about that. It would draw precisely the attention he was anxious to avoid. And his sire would be bound to question it, even if his mother did not.
He was making for his horse when he saw Georgy had exited the carriage and was chatting with a youthful neighbour, an old friend of hers, leaving Apple alone. Without pause for thought, he strode over and jumped onto the step, leaning in and lowering his voice. “Vergette’s here, Apple.”
She’d smiled at his approach, but shock entered her eyes at this. “Mr Vergette? Here?”
“Just seen him in his parlour. Fellow wants me to meet him here tomorrow. God knows what it’s all about, but seems highly suspicious to me, don’t mind telling you.” Apple’s cheeks had whitened, and he at once regretted his words. He put out a hand. “Oh, Lord! Don’t look like that, Apple. Shouldn’t have said anything. Only the fellow’s put my head in such a whirl, I can’t think straight.”
She looked more horrified still and Alex inwardly cursed.
“What did he say? Pray don’t keep it from me, Alex!”
“Didn’t say anything. Fellow’s as close as ever he was. Only says there’s a client in the case who ain’t you. It’s due to him — if it’s a man as I must suppose it is — that Vergette’s here, he says.”
“Client?” Apple’s eyes looked enormous as she stared at him. “Is it the person who set up the trust?”
“No use asking me, is there?” He put his hand on hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t trouble your head about it, Apple. We’ll know more tomorrow. Got to go, or I’ll be late to the ground. Don’t fret now, promise?”
She gave him a wavering smile, but those tempting lips quivered. “I’ll try.”
“Good girl. See you at dinner.”
His groom had brought his hunter nearer to the carriage and he swung himself up into the saddle, wishing he’d held his peace. Shouldn’t have worried Apple with it until he had something worthwhile to tell her. He turned for a last look and found her watching him. He smiled, saluted with his whip and trotted off with the other stragglers in the direction the hunt had taken.
Chapter Nineteen
Apple watched Alex ride away, waiting until his horse had vanished around a turn in the road. Her pulse was behaving in an unruly fashion, but she would not be deterred. Such an opportunity was not to be missed. She climbed down from the carriage and moved to confront the coachman on the box.
“Will you tell Lady Georgiana that I’ve gone into the inn for a moment, if you please?”
The groom standing nearby came forward. “I’ll let her ladyship know, miss, if she asks.”
Satisfied, Apple slipped casually through the remaining gentry who had, like Georgy, come to see the hunt away, and went into the inn, where the bustle was dying down. A little uncertain, she looked about for someone to show her the way. A waiter with a laden tray of empty jugs came through the front door, and Apple moved to intercept him.
“Pray can you direct me to Mr Vergette? I believe he is staying here?”
The waiter, evidently tired and out of temper, pointed towards an inner door. “Best ask the mistress, ma’am. She’ll be in the tap.”
Apple knew very well that a lone genteel female did not commonly enter a tap room, but that could not be helped. She went swiftly to the open door, from whence the sound of muted talk emanated, as well as a waft of smoke and tobacco. Peering in, she looked about for a likely female form and saw a stout woman serving at the counter.
Without hesitation, she marched up to her. “Pardon me, but would you be so kind as to direct me to Mr Vergette’s parlour? I have an appointment with him.”
The woman looked her up and down in an assessing way, and Apple lifted her chin, giving the woman what she hoped was an outraged stare. It had an effect, for the woman’s manner altered. She wiped her hands on her apron.
“Certainly, ma’am.” Raising her voice, she called across the room, “Joe! I want you!” A harassed-looking waiter came up. “Take this lady up to the gentleman in the second parlour. Mr Vergette it is.”
Relieved, but with a rising feeling of nervousness, Apple followed the man up the stairs and waited while he knocked on the door. An invitation sounded from inside, and Joe opened the door and poked his head in.
“Lady to see you, sir.”
