Page 63 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

“Who?” he repeated.

“Andrew Clement,” she said.

The air around them suddenly thickened and his eyes turned dark as thunderclouds.

“No…bloody blazes.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, a sign he was not at all pleased. “Are you sure? How can it be? And why were you looking for him in the kitchen?”

“Because he wasn’t at any of the tables. Yet I saw him march in. So, where is he?”

“You must be mistaken. The café’s patrons don’t just disappear into thin air.”

“I know. But I also know what I just saw. We must speak to Mr. Marchand. Is there an upstairs to this place? Perhaps Andrew is up there.”

“Why would he be in the attic of someone’s dining establishment?”

Her heart was pounding wildly now. “I don’t know. Please, James. We must ask the proprietor.”

Sighing, he nodded. “All right.” He motioned for the man to come over.

“Lord Milbury, is something wrong? Were you displeased with the meal?”

“No, not at all. It was excellent, as usual. But Lady Gwendolyn is certain she saw an acquaintance of hers walk in here a minute ago. And now he seems to have disappeared. Is there a private dining room here?”

“No, my lord. This common room is all there is.”

“How about rooms upstairs?” Gwendolyn asked.

“There’s nothing up there but a storage room where we keep our nonperishable supplies.”

“And the perishables?” she asked.

“In our cellar, where it is cooler. Surely, my lady,” he said, appearing sincerely distressed, “it was a trick of the light. If a patron walked in here, he would be in this dining room. We keep our supply room and cellar locked whenever not in use. My wife and I are the only ones with keys.”

Gwendolyn truly felt shaken. Her hands trembled. “Yes, I see. Do forgive me. I was so certain I had seen my friend. His name is Andrew Clement. That is, Lord Clement. He was in the army, so you might know him as Colonel Andrew Clement. I’m not certain what he is doing now. Is that name familiar to you at all, Mr. Marchand?”

“No, my lady. I am so sorry, but I have never heard of this gentleman.” The proprietor cast Gwendolyn another sincere look, but it rang false. He had shifty eyes.

How could she trust him? She knew what she had seen.

Andrew was here, and he was alive.

Her heart felt ready to rupture.

“Fine, keep to your ruse,” she said, certain this Frenchman was lying to her. “But if a man by that name does come by, please let him know that Lady Gwendolyn Carstairs is a guest of Lord Milbury’s at Milbury Hill for the next month. It is vitally important he receives this message.”

He nodded and said kindly, “Yes, of course. If a gentleman by that name comes in here, I shall let him know at once. Andrew Clement, you say? I’ll let my staff know to be on the lookout for him.”

“Thank you.” She hoped the man meant it and was not merely indulging her because he thought she was having delusions.

She took Milbury’s arm as they walked out of the café into the bright afternoon light. A distant clock chimed the two o’clock hour.

Gwendolyn craned her head to look up and down the street. “I saw him, James. I am not mistaken. He wasn’t a mirage.”

She felt the tension radiating off his body as he regarded her.

“Marchand knows exactly who he is. Did you not find it odd that he did not bother to ask me for a description of him? That is because he has seen Andrew and knows what he looks like.”

“Well, you’ve left your message with Mr. Marchand. If Clement was there, and if he wishes to see you, then he’ll know where to find you.”