“A bit reckless perhaps,” Adrian murmured, “though nothing especially noteworthy.”
“It’s not her handling of the horse that’s of interest but rather her seat and attire.”
“What of it?”
“She was riding astride, sir, while wearing breeches.”
This got Adrian’s attention.He straightened his spine, his glass of brandy briefly forgotten.Few people had ever surprised him, least of all in a positive way.Yet somehow, Miss Carmichael managed to do so.
He stilled on this thought and met Murry’s gaze.“Are we certain it was she?”
“A female rider estimated to be in her early twenties, with light blonde hair, riding in the vicinity of Clearview House.It’s hard to imagine it being anyone else.”
Adrian nodded.However intriguing he’d found Miss Carmichael before, he found her doubly so now.While she appeared no more than a typical young lady at first glance, it was becoming increasingly clear that she was a great deal more.With her interest in Euripides, boxing, and now this, he couldn’t help but wonder what other hidden depths there might be to her.
Recalling the glass he held, he raised it to his lips and took a long swallow of spiced liquid heat.
“She was at Reed’s today,” he told Murry.He could not allow himself to be blinded by what she allowed him to see, just in case there was something else lurking beneath the surface.He relayed the interaction while going over every detail in his mind.“The book that fell from her bag just happened to be the same one I’m reading.I need to know if that was indeed coincidental or if there might be something more to it.”
“You think she might be trying to gain your friendship by crafting common interests?”
He didn’t want it to be true, but he’d never been a big believer in fated encounters or chance.“I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”
Murry frowned.“Have you taken your book out in public or mentioned it to anyone?”
“No.I keep it in the carriage to read while I travel about, so the only other person who might have seen it is you.”
“Then I don’t see how Miss Carmichael would be aware of it, sir.”
Neither did Adrian, and yet there was something about the entire encounter at Reed’s that somehow felt off, like an elusive memory just beyond reach.
Adrian downed some more brandy.“Thank you, Murry.You’ve been most helpful.Any other information?”
Murry shook his head.“Unfortunately not, sir.Despite his best efforts, Ward failed to encourage his mark to speak of Miss Carmichael.He was foiled every time he attempted to steer the conversation in her direction.”
It wasn’t unusual, Adrian supposed.Many households employed loyal servants, though he had to admit he was slightly surprised Ward’s skill at obtaining information while seducing one of the Clearview Housemaids hadn’t met with more success.
Too bad.
“Thank you for the update, Murry.You can tell Ward to call it quits though he ought to do so slowly so he avoids suspicion.In the meantime, tell Mr.Goodard to put all his informants on alert.And let me know if you find anything else.”
“Very good, sir.”
Murry departed, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts.
They would have done well to engage Mr.Goodard’s help from the very beginning, but as one of London’s foremost employment agents, he ran a larger enterprise and wasn’t the sort of man Adrian wished to involve in his own private dealings unless the need called for it.
As he believed it did now.
His personal interest in Miss Carmichael urged him to be wary.Too many people from his past had proven to be manipulative and deceptive, some even traitors.He’d learned some difficult lessons from trusting them, and vowed to avoid such people in future.
He worried Miss Carmichael might be such a person while simultaneously hoping she wasn’t.Worst of all, he couldn’t quite stop the surge of excitement when he wondered when he might see her again, and this was dangerous.
With a curse, he downed the last of his brandy and set his glass aside.He had far more important matters to deal with right now than a beautiful woman who seemed to cling to his every thought.
After enjoying a quick lunch at his desk, he set off again, returning to St.Bartholomew where he encountered the vicar – a middle-aged man with hints of grey in his dark brown hair.The persistent lines marring his brow made him look like he mourned the loss of better days.
Father Elias had been absent the last time Adrian stopped by.According to what the curate had said, he’d been out visiting a dying parishioner.
