truly insignificant. Calm yourself and let us see if your maid might be able to save it.” He soothed and calmed her while escorting her to the door.
At their absence, Keegan smacked his hands together. “What delightful events conspired to rid us of her presence.”
Before he could continue, they heard it. Click. Followed by a smooth rolling. The wall behind Bryce’s desk disappeared and Red Tattoo, Bryce’s valet, walked into the room. A ruddy face to match his red hair and a thin scar along the side of his face and neck, Red looked more like a smuggler than a valet, especially given his filthy appearance. “Ready for my report, my lord. I waited for the French witch and her cousin to leave and thought the air clear.”
After locking the library room door Bryce gestured to a nearby chair. “Yes, I am most anxious to learn of your progress.”
“It’s like this. I went to that place, Storrington, you sent me to and had me a look around. Spoke to the neighbors, even the boy’s family at a place called Susetta Fields. Sounds French to me.”
Bryce waved him on. “Yes, and do they know where their missing brother is?”
“No, their lips were closed tighter than a nun’s legs. I told them as how the boy owed me money from a card game, and I was meaning to see he came through with it. The one brother blathered on about being his brother’s keeper and such. Couldn’t follow it much. One of the other fellows offered to show me his garden of rutabagas, but before I could find out more, the older one threw me out!” Indignation showed plainly on his face.
“So his family either does not know where young Mandeley is or they are not saying,” Bryce said.
“That’s the way I’d tell it, my lord.”
“And the girl?”
“Sorry, no luck there. No one in Winchelsea remembered a girl like that. There are some what say she may have only been here for the Mop Fair and got a job elsewhere.”
Bryce rubbed his brow and responded thoughtfully, “Yes, hired at the Mop Fair. I had thought—no matter. But I believe she is still around here. We should be able to determine from the locals who hired her. Can you continue that business?”
Red Tattoo smiled. “I shall deliver her and that Mandeley fellow to you on a silver tray.”
Bryce grinned. Red Tattoo, his friend and valet, had overwhelming confidence in his own abilities, most of which was justified. Often were the times that Bryce was glad to have Red watch out for him.
Keegan told Bryce with a wry smile, “This woman must mean something to you.”
Shrugging indifferently, he replied, “Perhaps. I think she might lead to fairly interesting answers.”
Another long day passed quietly, too quietly. Patience sat in the servants’ hall alone finishing her dinner, thinking about events of earlier in the day. She had seen the earl only once in the morning after his return from an early-morning ride when he stopped to talk with Mr. Gibbs at the front door. From an open window, she had studied him unnoticed, objectively, she thought, belying the fast pace of her heart.
His thick brown hair touched his collar. He wore no coat, and his white sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned, strong forearms. His hands rested casually on his hips. She remembered those strong hands that had warmed her skin. She shook her head. It simply wouldn’t do to remember that night, she admonished herself.
He had a lean, hard look about him, and seemed as if he were never truly at rest, with a compelling countenance warmed by the sun, no doubt attracting many women.
Not that it mattered to Patience, of course. She imagined how disappointed all of his conquests would be when they learned he was a traitor to his country.
When he’d headed back toward the stables, she could not keep her eyes off his formidable, muscled form, outlined in revealing buffed breeches. He strode with an easy assurance and yet lightly, almost as if he knew someone watched him. She’d suppressed a
At their absence, Keegan smacked his hands together. “What delightful events conspired to rid us of her presence.”
Before he could continue, they heard it. Click. Followed by a smooth rolling. The wall behind Bryce’s desk disappeared and Red Tattoo, Bryce’s valet, walked into the room. A ruddy face to match his red hair and a thin scar along the side of his face and neck, Red looked more like a smuggler than a valet, especially given his filthy appearance. “Ready for my report, my lord. I waited for the French witch and her cousin to leave and thought the air clear.”
After locking the library room door Bryce gestured to a nearby chair. “Yes, I am most anxious to learn of your progress.”
“It’s like this. I went to that place, Storrington, you sent me to and had me a look around. Spoke to the neighbors, even the boy’s family at a place called Susetta Fields. Sounds French to me.”
Bryce waved him on. “Yes, and do they know where their missing brother is?”
“No, their lips were closed tighter than a nun’s legs. I told them as how the boy owed me money from a card game, and I was meaning to see he came through with it. The one brother blathered on about being his brother’s keeper and such. Couldn’t follow it much. One of the other fellows offered to show me his garden of rutabagas, but before I could find out more, the older one threw me out!” Indignation showed plainly on his face.
“So his family either does not know where young Mandeley is or they are not saying,” Bryce said.
“That’s the way I’d tell it, my lord.”
“And the girl?”
“Sorry, no luck there. No one in Winchelsea remembered a girl like that. There are some what say she may have only been here for the Mop Fair and got a job elsewhere.”
Bryce rubbed his brow and responded thoughtfully, “Yes, hired at the Mop Fair. I had thought—no matter. But I believe she is still around here. We should be able to determine from the locals who hired her. Can you continue that business?”
Red Tattoo smiled. “I shall deliver her and that Mandeley fellow to you on a silver tray.”
Bryce grinned. Red Tattoo, his friend and valet, had overwhelming confidence in his own abilities, most of which was justified. Often were the times that Bryce was glad to have Red watch out for him.
Keegan told Bryce with a wry smile, “This woman must mean something to you.”
Shrugging indifferently, he replied, “Perhaps. I think she might lead to fairly interesting answers.”
Another long day passed quietly, too quietly. Patience sat in the servants’ hall alone finishing her dinner, thinking about events of earlier in the day. She had seen the earl only once in the morning after his return from an early-morning ride when he stopped to talk with Mr. Gibbs at the front door. From an open window, she had studied him unnoticed, objectively, she thought, belying the fast pace of her heart.
His thick brown hair touched his collar. He wore no coat, and his white sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned, strong forearms. His hands rested casually on his hips. She remembered those strong hands that had warmed her skin. She shook her head. It simply wouldn’t do to remember that night, she admonished herself.
He had a lean, hard look about him, and seemed as if he were never truly at rest, with a compelling countenance warmed by the sun, no doubt attracting many women.
Not that it mattered to Patience, of course. She imagined how disappointed all of his conquests would be when they learned he was a traitor to his country.
When he’d headed back toward the stables, she could not keep her eyes off his formidable, muscled form, outlined in revealing buffed breeches. He strode with an easy assurance and yet lightly, almost as if he knew someone watched him. She’d suppressed a
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