Dillie did her best to shrink against the shadows when she heard light footsteps approach. She saw a tearful Elsie disappear down the hall, and then she heard heavier footsteps as Hilda marched into the common room to tend to the bored and stranded patrons.
Oh, no. Dillie remained leaning against the wall, suddenly needing support. Ian had been telling her the truth. She’d trusted him on everything else and ought to have trusted him on this. In her own defense, she’d already realized her mistake and had been on her way to tell him so.
However, she was also grateful that she’d overheard the conversation between the two maids. When dealing with Ian, she had to be confident and relentless. He’d put up those thick walls around his heart and only a battering ram—lovingly wielded, of course—would knock them down.
A quick inspection of the common room revealed he wasn’t there. She frowned. He hadn’t been in Abner’s room either. Nor was he in the inn’s private dining room. Nor in the kitchen or entry hall. Mrs. Gwynne bustled toward her. “Miss Dillie! What are ye doin’ out of bed?”
“I’m looking for His Grace. Have you seen him?”
She clucked and shook her head. “Oh, ye must ’ave been asleep and he didn’t wish to wake ye. He’s in the stable checking on his horse. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Shall I help ye up to yer quarters?”
“I’d rather wait down here.”
Mrs. Gwynne glanced toward the common room and frowned. “I don’t think ye ought,” she said in a whisper. “A few travelers arrived early this mornin’. I don’t like the look of ’em. They were askin’ questions about our guests. Tryin’ to be casual about it.” She tapped the side of her nose. “But I’ve seen enough of ’em squirrely sort to know that I should have m’guard up. I told ’em they were welcome to take a hearty meal in the common room, but couldn’t stay the night.”
Dillie tried to peer over the portly woman’s shoulder. “Which ones are they?”
“Them two over there.”
She pointed to a pair of men who were dressed decently but appeared quite rough around the edges. “They do look squirrely.”
“You keep away from ’em, Miss Dillie.” She tapped her nose again. “They’re fidgeters. See how their eyes dart from their tankards to the door? And how they duck their heads whenever someone approaches their table? They’re up to something, mark my words.”
“Has His Grace been warned about them?”
“Not yet. I’ll warn him as soon as he returns.”
They heard a commotion at the door. “That must be ’im now.”
But it wasn’t Ian, just more squirrely knaves, as Mrs. Gwynne would say. “Inn’s full,” she told the pair. “Ye’re welcome to a hot meal and then ye’d best be on yer way. There’s another inn up the road a little ways.”
One of the men fished a shiny coin from his pocket, which surprised Dillie. The pair were poorly dressed, even accounting for the bad weather, and appeared more suited to a dockside tavern than a respectable inn. She hadn’t thought them capable of raising thruppence between them. “Ride off in this storm?” one of the men questioned. “Here’s for yer trouble. We’ll stay the night in yer stable.”
Mrs. Gwynne was about to refuse, but her husband chose that moment to pass by. He saw the silver coin and nodded. “Of course, gentlemen. Have ye eaten?” He glanced into the common room and seemed pleased that it was filling. He motioned to a passing maid. Dillie held her breath, realizing who it was as the innkeeper summoned her over. “Elsie, come here. Take care of these gentlemen.”
The girl bustled to him, saw Dillie, and stiffened. “At once, Mr. Gwynne.” She hastily led the men to a table—or rather, the men pointed to their desired table, which happened to be near the other two shady-looking knaves. Elsie took their orders and then glanced at the entry where Dillie still stood. She appeared angry and hurt, but not at all remorseful for the mischief she’d caused.
Dillie had hoped the girl would take Hilda’s warning to heart, but from the look of her, she doubted it. Sighing, she considered returning to her room, but decided against it. The walk down those steps had exhausted her. More important, the newly arrived knaves had just made eye contact with the other two men, as though passing a signal. She wasn’t well versed in the art of intrigue, but something was going on. Those men had taken pains to avoid everyone else’s gaze.
A shiver ran up Dillie’s spine. Were they a ring of thieves? Even so, they wouldn’t be so bold as to carry out a theft in broad daylight. Certainly not in front of the inn’s patrons, most of whom could later identify them. Mrs. Gwynne had made no bones about being on to them. Surely they realized it.