Romancing the Earl (16 page)

“So Miss Bowen informed me. She is Kersey’s cousin, if you can believe it.”

Wade’s light brown eyes flickered surprise. “Is there some connection, do you suppose? With the footman at Stratton Hall?”

“To Miss Bowen? I doubt it.” Elijah tried to puzzle how Dalby might have made his way from Cosgrove to Stratton Hall, but couldn’t figure it out. “I admit I find it odd that she has a connection to the place where this footman was able to find a position after being turned out without a reference.”

Wade eyed him curiously. “But you think it is merely coincidence?”

Elijah blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to think. I can’t believe Miss Bowen was involved with trying to steal the tapestry or with Matthew’s death.” Was that because he liked her and found her attractive? None of that held any consequence in the larger scheme, and he’d do better to remember that. As he’d indicated before they’d left for Bath—he meant to keep her close until he figured it all out.

“Is your plan still to travel to Worcester tomorrow to find the tapestry?”

“It is. Miss Bowen and Grey will meet us at the Black Hound in Worcester. Once we have the tapestry, we’ll continue on to Stratton Hall.”

“A sound plan, my lord. Are we to leave in the morning, then?”

“At first light.” Elijah shrugged out of his coat, and the paper he’d taken from Septon’s library fluttered to the floor.

“What’s that?” Wade asked, bending to pick it up.

Elijah watched as Wade opened it. “Something I thought might be a good idea to borrow.”

Wade perused the document. “Is this a drawing of the tapestry? Can’t read a word of what’s written beneath it.”

“Neither can I, but Miss Bowen says she can. She’s not aware I’ve taken it, though. For now, let’s keep this between us.”

“Very well.” Wade refolded it. “Shall I pack it in your case?”

“Actually, I prefer to keep it on my person. Tuck it under the pillow for now. Did you by chance see Grey? At dinner, perhaps?”

Wade stashed the parchment as Elijah asked. “I did, though she disappeared immediately afterward.”

“Yes, she was otherwise engaged in assisting Miss Bowen with her sleuthing activities.”

Wade arched a brow, but didn’t pose a query. “We didn’t have a chance to discuss our meeting with Mason.”

“Miss Bowen will enlighten her.” Elijah moved into the dressing chamber and removed his waistcoat, handing it to Wade.

“She’s rather pretty.”

Elijah shot him a disbelieving glance. “Grey?” Elijah tried to think of how he would characterize her. She wasn’t
not
pretty, he supposed. He thought her hair might be brown in color, but it was always pulled back in a rather severe knot. She had blue eyes if he wasn’t mistaken, and yes, they were clear and . . . pretty.

Elijah slipped his shoes off and nudged them toward Wade. “You realize she has a good five inches on you?”

Wade flashed Elijah a look that said he was not amused. “More like four.”

Elijah tried not to smile. “Let’s keep our focus.”

Wade picked up the shoes and tucked them into the traveling case in the corner. “Does that include you and Miss Bowen?”

“There is no ‘me and Miss Bowen.’” He tried not to think of her kiss or her almost kiss or his ragingly inappropriate reaction to both.

“I understand.” Wade’s tone said he didn’t believe him, but Elijah didn’t wish to debate the matter. Best to put it from his mind entirely.

“Before you turn in, will you inform Septon’s butler that we’re leaving? Tell him . . .” He blinked at Wade. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

“I shall inform him that you have a previous engagement, my lord.”

“Wade, you are astonishingly efficient at this new position. Tell me again, why did you fall into crime?”

He shrugged. “Because that’s what we did when there were too many of us to feed. Some of us are lucky and find our way, align ourselves with people who help us along.” He gave Elijah a meaningful, appreciative glance as he folded the clothing and packed it away.

Elijah knew he’d communicated with the siblings with whom he still had contact—two younger sisters who’d found their way and were now married. The rest of his family was unfortunately lost to him. “It takes a particular fellow to rebel successfully against circumstance.”

“I’ll run down and inform the butler. Will there be anything else?”

Elijah felt restless. Though he planned to rise early, he didn’t think he could yet sleep. “Perhaps some brandy or better still, whisky. And some cards. If you’re of a mind.” They’d passed many nights in Australia and on board the ship playing cards and drinking.

“Sounds about right.” With a nod, Wade took himself off.

Elijah wondered briefly what Wade would do if he encountered Grey. Would he steal a kiss, or exercise the same control Elijah had barely managed? And if it were the latter, would he regret it as bitterly as Elijah did?

What happened to putting this from his mind?

Swearing under his breath, he strode back into the bedchamber to await Wade. The sooner he delivered the tapestry to Miss Bowen, the sooner he could exorcise her from his life. He needed her family connection to visit Stratton Hall, however.

Bloody hell, tapestry or not, it looked as though he’d be saddled with Miss Bowen—and her kissable lips—if he had any hope of unraveling the circumstances of Matthew’s death.

Chapter Nine

T
he journey to Worcester had taken several hours, ample time for Cate to relive the kiss with Norris at least two dozen times. Give or take a dozen.

She both regretted not kissing him a second time and counted herself fortunate. There was no telling how much farther a second kiss might have taken them. And now that she was about to see him again, the memory of his lips seemed even more present than it had all day.

Put the kiss from your mind!

Straightening her shoulders, she stepped into the private dining room at the Black Hound.

Norris stood from the table and offered her a bow.
 

She dipped a brief curtsey in return. It felt formal after the intimacy of the night before, but she found it was necessary if they were to maintain an appropriate association. “I received your kind dinner invitation. Thank you.”

“I trust your journey was pleasant,” he said. “The weather was especially fine.”

“Quite. And yours?”

“It was long, but pleasant enough.”

The inn’s footman held out her chair so she could sit. Norris retook the chair he’d vacated.

She’d had enough of the awkward, stilted conversation. They were business associates—partners even—and they could move past a silly kiss. She draped her napkin across her lap. “Now that we’re here, will you tell me where we’ll find the tapestry?”

Norris frowned slightly and shook his head. He darted a glance at the footman, who served their soup from the sideboard. Once the bowls were placed before them, Norris looked up at the young man. “Would it be possible for us to serve ourselves?”

“I’ll have to fetch the rest. It won’t be quite as hot.” He appeared concerned about this.

Cate smiled at him to ease his anxiety. “It’s all right.”

The footman nodded and left. Cate helped herself to the soup while they waited for the food to be delivered and the footman to leave them alone.

Once he’d gone, she gave Norris a pointed look. “Here we are, alone again.” Did she need to draw attention to it? She wasn’t doing a very good job of moving past anything.

“Indeed we are.” He arched a brow at her. “I know it doesn’t bother you, given the way you and your companion traipse about, barely adhering to the confines of your station. I’ve decided to try to not let it bother me.”

“But it does.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. On the one hand, she found his condescension regarding her “station” infuriating, although expected. On the other, she appreciated the care with which he handled her reputation.

He lifted a shoulder and sampled the soup. “I’ve arranged to borrow mounts for our excursion tomorrow.”

“Three of them?” She was nearly certain he’d include Grey, but wanted to make sure.

“Four, actually. Wade will be joining us.”

That made sense. After all, he’d described his manservant as his “Grey,” which in retrospect made her want to smile. Everyone should have a Grey. “And where are we going exactly?” Cate asked.

“Not terribly far—maybe three miles. I was raised near here.”

“Not in Bath?”

“No, my mother moved there after my father passed. She sold his house, which had been my grandfather’s, and bought the town house in Bath.”

She couldn’t determine how he felt about that, but then Norris was quite careful with his personal expressions. She suspected his mother troubled him, given that he’d characterized their meeting as “stressful,” and that his relationship with his brother had perhaps been tense due to Matthew’s penchant for fancy. Beyond that, his emotions were difficult to discern. “How sad to lose something that had been in your family. How old were you when your father passed?”

“Six and ten.”

He could be frustratingly economical with his speech, and she was beginning to understand that he was most brief when the topic likely made him uncomfortable. Perhaps his father’s death had been difficult. “Were you and your father close?”

He snapped his gaze to hers. “Yes. May we get back to the matter at hand?”

Definitely uncomfortable. “My apologies. My mother says I’m too intense.”

“What an odd word choice, but I have to agree. I’ll add that to your list.”

She smiled at that, enjoying their absurd lists. “The tapestry is at your childhood home, then?”

He shook his head as he set his spoon down and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “No. Thankfully it’s nowhere that will require us to interrupt anyone or ask to gain access. We’ll have to intrude on someone’s land, but that won’t be difficult. The location is somewhat removed. We shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Was he being purposely vague? She understood his desire for secrecy about their mission, but did he really think someone was standing outside the room trying to hear their conversation? “Is there a reason you aren’t just telling me where it is?”

“I’m suspicious and secretive, remember?”

She gave him a wry look. “How could I forget?” She didn’t press the issue. There was no need. Tomorrow she would have the tapestry and she’d be another step closer to Dyrnwyn.

They finished their soup and stood to help themselves to the next course. Norris waited until she was seated before he sat.

She watched him eat for a moment. A mistake, for it brought her attention to his lips. They looked as firm and soft as they’d felt. Blinking, she returned her attention to her plate before he could catch her staring.

“I find it odd that the footman who attempted to steal the tapestry finds himself employed at Stratton Hall,” Norris said between bites.
 

Cate looked at him in surprise. “Do you?”

“It all seems strangely connected. The footman going without a reference from Cosgrove to Stratton Hall. Lady Stratton’s connection to Septon. Your connection to both Septon and Stratton.”

Her chest squeezed with agitation. “I’m not certain what you’re implying.”

“I don’t think you had anything to do with the attempted theft or Matthew’s death,” he said. She relaxed at his words. “But you must agree it is odd.”

“It is indeed. It’s as if Fate wanted you to find this footman.”

Norris scooped a spoonful of parsnips. “I don’t believe in such nonsense.”

“Like you don’t believe in the Bible—didn’t you say something to that effect?”

“I don’t believe there’s a puppet master deciding what happens to us. We make our own lot in life, for better or worse.”

“A pragmatic view, but does that mean you have no faith whatsoever?”

“I have faith that Wade will awaken me in the morning and that my saddle will remain secure around my mount. But if you’re asking whether I believe some invisible person or power will cure my ills and answer my prayers, the answer is no.”