Grimacing again at the bitter taste, he glanced into his glass. What was wrong with the rum? “Gibbs, I hope you can help me out.” He looked back to the footman.
“I’ll do anything I can, milord.”
“You have been with our family for a long time, and you were my father’s footman for many years.”
“Aye.” He took another drink.
“I’m sure you know a lot about what goes on in society, as well.”
The older man’s wrinkled mouth lifted in a grin. “Aye, I do.”
“And I’m sure that servants know what goes on in the household—even if things are meant to be kept a secret.”
“Once again, you are correct. Loyal servants do not spread gossip, but unfortunately, there are many servants I have met over the years who are not so loyal.”
“Are you friends with servants from other estates?”
Gibbs chuckled. “We all seem to know what goes on in other houses, I’m afraid.”
Tristan nodded. “Have you heard any of these other servants saying things you deem to be inappropriate?”
“Plenty of times.”
“How about from Lady Hollingsworth’s estate?”
Gibbs took another gulp and nodded. “Sadly, yes. The servants blamed her for not giving their master an heir.”
Although Tristan was grateful she hadn’t given Hollingsworth children, Tristan’s heart wrenched for the pain she must have endured because of the servant’s treatment. “Yes, that is very sad, indeed. What about Lord Elliot?”
“I fear your cousin wasn’t very kind to his servants. I believe many of them wanted him dead, especially the maids.”
Tristan nodded. “Yes, I had heard the same thing.” He paused in thought until a name popped into his head from nowhere. “What about Lady Dashwood’s household. Have you heard anything about her servants who may not be very loyal?”
“Oh yes, milord. In fact, Mr. Tucker was ready to punch Lady Dashwood’s driver in the face not too long ago.”
“Really? I wonder why.”
“It wasn’t too long after you had been kidnapped. Mr. Tucker had visited a pub that night and Lady Dashwood’s driver was into his cups quite a bit and telling everyone that he had driven his ladyship to Lady Hollingsworth’s cottage… and that the viscountess had kidnapped a man. You, milord.”
Tristan had tipped his glass up to his lips for another sip, but quickly dropped his arm. “Me? The driver told everyone that?”
“Aye. That is why Mr. Tucker wanted to punch the man in the face for spreading such gossip, but Miss Amanda wouldn’t allow it. She is engaged to Mr. Tucker, you know.”
Anger filled Tristan, making him want to plow his fist through the man’s face as well. “No, I didn’t know this. Has the coachman ever been to this place to visit Miss Amanda before?”
“Aye. A few times.”
“When was the last time?”
“Yesterday, I believe.”
Tristan grumbled under his breath. “How long has this driver been employed with Lady Dashwood?”
“Only since her husband died.”
“Interesting…” Tristan allowed himself to take a drink this time. The wheels in his brain were turning faster now as ideas he’d never thought of before surfaced. When he’d returned after being kidnapped, he’d wondered how some people—the magistrate in particular—knew that Tristan had been at Diana’s cottage.
Now he knew.
