In the kitchen with the oven fire blazing, the cook, a plump, cheery woman, and the kitchen maids scuttling around, had little to impart. A freckled-faced stableboy munching on toast slathered with honey, said, “That Joe Smythe, who worked in the stables, was shifty-eyed.”
The cook hushed him. “The gentleman ain’t interested in the likes of you, Harry,” she said. “And wipe up that dripping honey, before someone measures their length!”
Harry hastily swallowed the last of his toast and rushed to obey.
“No need to shush him,” Damian said mildly. “Why do you think that, Harry?”
“Had a visitor come to the inn,” he said, down on his knees, scrubbing the floor. “I seen them out the back of the stables with their heads together.”
“Did you hear what they said?”
He shook his ginger head. “No, but Joe took off a few days later.”
Damian thanked Cook for the half-dozen buttered raisin scones she’d given him for the journey and went in search of Lady Diana. Wearing her bonnet and pelisse, she waited for him on the porch.
“While I was waiting for you, I questioned the maid, Sally, about Smythe,” she said, hurrying toward him. “Apparently, they shared more than a friendship in the short time he was here. She was angry because he left without saying goodbye to her, so she had no compunction in telling me all about him. Apparently, he’d admitted he used to work for a Lord Daintith, while under another name.”
“Well done!” Damian grinned at her. “It appears this Joe is the fellow we are looking for.”
“I find it very encouraging, don’t you?” she said, looking pleased.
“I do. We might learn more about him from his mother.”
“I feel sure we are on the right track.” Lady Diana eyed his parcel. “What have you there?”
He smiled. “Raisin scones. Cook thought we might get peckish on our journey.”
She took the parcel from him with a wry expression. “No doubt you charmed her. But how thoughtful of her! If you purchase a bottle of wine from Greystones, we can stop forluncheon.” She grimaced and put a hand to her forehead. “On second thought, perhaps not wine.”
Damian smiled sympathetically. “Ah, here’s the carriage,” he said as it rattled around the corner from the stable yard.
Shortly afterward, it bowled along the road toward the Smythes’ cottage, and Damian added what the stableboy had said about the man who’d come to see Joe. She sat back and nodded thoughtfully.
“It doesn’t fill in the gaps,” he added. “Something doesn’t add up.”
“I think it does,” she said earnestly. “He must have sought employment here after he left Anne’s father’s stables. And then he disappeared again. It is clear they were planning something. I can’t help feeling we are getting closer to finding out where Anne is.” She frowned, as if daring him to refute it.
He merely nodded and leaned back against the squab, studying her lovely face beneath the brim of the flowery bonnet, a blue bow tied at the side of her chin. He would hate to witness her bitter disappointment when this search proved unsuccessful.
Chapter Fourteen
As the sunclimbed higher in the sky, Diana and Lord Ballantine were still several miles from their destination. When the carriage approached an inn, Ballantine ordered the coachman to pull into the forecourt.
“Are we to have luncheon here?” Diana asked.
“No. I think we’ve taken enough chances. Stay in the carriage. I’ll fetch us something to eat.” He winked. “Cooks always like me.” Before leaving the carriage, he turned to her and smiled. “Shall we have a picnic?”
“Oh, yes.” She imagined cooks would like him. And not just because he was handsome. While he went by the name of Beaufort, it was clear he was a wealthy nobleman. She watched his fluid stride as he walked toward the inn. Ballantine was full of surprises. How would she settle down to her humdrum life after this?
When he emerged ten minutes later, he carried a package and a wicker basket. He handed the package to the groom and entered the carriage, bringing with him the delicious smell of roasted chicken.
“What have you there?” Diana asked, unable to stem her curiosity. She was suddenly ravenous, having eaten only a piece of toast and jam at breakfast. She would bring the raisin scones for dessert.
“Why didn’t you eat more at breakfast?” he asked.
Diana grinned. “I was nervous.”
“Why?”
