Page 96 of An Inconvenient Vow

His uncle’s appreciation had gone down so well with Sabina that she had unbent her scrupulous politeness and deigned to bestow a good deal of sincerer smiles upon the duke, a thing which made Jeffree inwardly fume.

They then sat for a good hour before the fire while Bethencourt cautioned her against a whole host of household mistakes, as though she had never run a home before and numbered fifteen in years rather than twenty-five.

Instead of bridling at his strictures as Jeffree might have expected, Sabina seemed amenable to his advice, gravely listening and nodding as the duke covered a whole host of subjects which Jeffree was damned sure his uncle knew nothing about. She even agreed to rearrange the pantry at his whim, for Bethencourt was certain that the salted fish would spoil if they were not moved to the other side of the room and the barrels kept scrupulously separated from the sacks.

The whole time, Jeffree alternated between pacing about impatiently or leaning against the mantel and glaring in their direction with ill-concealed annoyance. After the first hour, his uncle’s under-steward had felt unequal to the atmosphere in the room and had begged to be excused to await his master outside.

In the end, Jeffree followed his example and escaped outside to the sunshine. It was damnably stuffy inside. Lighting a fire at midday on such a day was madness. Seeing the under-steward was wandering through the herb garden, Jeffree headed for the stables instead where he found Lancer forking hay and having a one-sided conversation with two small unkempt-looking hounds who were lolling near the stalls.

“—and that’s what I said to her, not that she listened,” the manservant griped. Hearing Jeffree’s footfall he whipped his head around looking rather sheepish. “Sir Jeffree.” He nodded.

“Where are the horses?” Jeffree asked, glancing at the empty stalls.

“I put ‘em in the field. Too nice a day for them to be cooped up inside.”

Jeffree grunted and let his critical eye fall on the dogs who had climbed to their feet and made their way over to him to say hello. He let them sniff his hand and realized their coats were curly rather than uncared for. “These your dogs?” he asked when they seemed friendly enough.

“That they are,” Lancer affirmed. “They’re good beasts, though I do say so myself, and right good guard dogs when they’s let loose at night, for all they’re on the small side. They’ll bark up a storm if they spot a stranger about the place, b’aint no one getting past them,” he finished with satisfaction.

Jeffree lowered himself onto an upturned bucket and bestowed some head pats on the shaggy dog heads. “What if Hendry were to show up at the property?” Jeffree asked. “Would they not recognize him and allow him entrance?”

Lancer snorted. “Not they! They never tolerated him above half. He never could abide dogs and that’s a bad sign my grandfather used to say. Why, one time he aimed such a kick at Amos—” Lancer broke off his wrathful words to shake his head. “Well, it’s not my place to criticize an old master,” he muttered, casting a sidelong look at Jeffree.

“The man was a villain,” Jeffree agreed as it suddenly occurred to him that Lancer might be a good source of information when it came to the enquiries over Leland’s disappearance. “Is Hendry still in the vicinity or hereabouts?” he asked slowly, making sure to keep his tone casual.

Lancer gave a chuckle. “Lord, you don’t need to worry about him daring to show his face round ‘ere, Sir Jeffree. Not after you pitched him in the horse trough.” He curled his lip. “Hendry was ever a craven little swine.”

So much for not criticizing a former employer, Jeffree thought wryly. Then he recalled that he had also pitched Lancer into the horse trough and wondered if the hulking countryman held him in any higher esteem when all was said and done.

“That may well be,” Jeffree agreed, “but I have a friend who would fain like a word or two with Alfred Hendry.”

Lancer’s gaze sharpened and he paused in his work, lowering his pitchfork to lean on it. “A friend?” he repeated quizzically.

Jeffree considered. It was unlikely Sir Charles would know how to deal with a weaselly fellow like Alfred Hendry. “Myself,” he clarified. “The one who would like a word with him is me.”

Lancer frowned. “Well, I hear he’s not been seen at The Blue Boar in a two-week. Still owes them money and Wat Begley is spittin’ mad about it. Not that I would know,” Lancer added quickly. “For I’ve been trying not to run afoul of the wife, since we’ve been given this new start, so to speak, so I have been avoiding the tavern.”

Jeffree nodded but did not speak for he was sure Lancer knew more than he was letting on. Lancer shot him a quick, appraising look. “A course,” he began awkwardly, “our loyalties have changed now, so to speak. The missus has been a lot happier since Lady Sabina took over the running of the place.” He scratched his neck.

“My wife is very satisfied with your services,” Jeffree replied without intonation.

Lancer looked uneasy and tugged on his curly beard. “Hendry did have a friend of sorts,” he admitted at last. “Think he was a childhood companion of his or at least he knowed him of old. Owns a mill he does in Flyford Parvell.”

Jeffree’s ears pricked up. “Flyford Parvell? Where is that? I have never heard of it.”

“Why should you?” Lancer shrugged. “It’s a little coastal town about twenty miles from here. Sometimes when Hendry’s debtors grew too pressing, he would retreat there to lay low a while until this fellow Gordon grew tired of him too.”

“Gordon?”

“Gordon were his name. James or mebbe it was Jacob Gordon; I forget which.”

Jeffree nodded his thanks and stood up from his impromptu seat. It should not be hard to find the fellow with his hometown, surname, and occupation. Mayhap this Gordon could shed some light on Hendry’s whereabouts and then Hendry could reveal what had happened to Leland?

Lancer hesitated. “And maybe by the by you will forget ‘twas me gave you his direction, Sir Jeffree?” he asked hopefully. Seeing his unease, Jeffree nodded again, and Lancer relaxed. “Only I promised the wife I’d put all that business behind me,” he confessed. “I don’t want to be riling her up now she’s finally agreed to give me another chance.”

Lancer seemed an odd candidate for hen-pecked husband, Jeffree reflected as he walked slowly back across the yard. Penny was plump and round of face, with a pleasant manner and beaming smile. Her husband was a rough-hewn brute you would not like to meet in a dark alley. Still, it seemed he went in fear of incurring his wife’s displeasure.

This no longer seemed as baffling to Jeffree as it would once have done. Wives were a complicated business, he thought darkly. As for his own, he was frankly unsure of his next step. He knew himself well enough to know that if he stayed under Morecotte’s roof this night, the row that had been brewing all day would blow up, not disperse.