The Lady By His Side(78)
From the corner of her eye, she saw his expression fleetingly register complete bafflement, then his features hardened, and he shot a glance brimming with suspicion her way. She pretended not to notice; only her excellent training allowed her to keep her grin from her face.
They reached the stable yard, and he asked for their mounts of yesterday to be saddled. Had it been only yesterday? It seemed longer; so much had happened in such a short time.
She’d appropriated the map of the estate they’d found and had made a rough copy on a smaller sheet; she drew it from her pocket and unfolded it. Studying it, she tried to estimate the area they had to cover. “Where to first?”
He came to look over her shoulder. After a moment, he grunted. “North or south. We can’t effectively do both in what’s left of today.”
It was already late morning.
She turned as he fished a coin from his breeches pocket.
He tossed the coin, caught it, slapped it onto his wrist, and covered it with his palm. “Heads, we search north. Tails, we look to the south.”
He lifted his hand.
She leaned nearer to peer at the coin. “Tails.” She straightened and looked southward.
“I meant search the southern half of the estate.” He turned as, with hooves clopping, the horses were brought out. “We’ll go west to the road, then zigzag over the southern half of the estate and return via the coastal path, stopping at all possible hiding places we come upon.”
She steeled herself to weather the sensual jolt as he grasped her waist and hoisted her to her saddle—as if she weighed very little, which she knew was not the case. She was pleased to discover that, although the thrill to her senses was still there, the discombobulation had faded; her wits remained hers to command.
The instant he’d swung up to his saddle, she shook the chestnut’s reins and led the way out of the yard—but then had to wait for him to set their course, which he did by taking the lead on the large, raw-boned gray. She urged her mare up to keep pace, riding to the side and half a length behind—sufficiently to the rear to respond to any change in direction he made. Although she suspected her map-reading skills were superior to his, he had a landowner’s sense of north, south, east, and west; he led them unerringly west, toward the road linking Deal with Dover that formed the estate’s western boundary.
But as they rode, they zigged and zagged, stopping at barns and sheds to search.
At the third such stop, when they emerged from a shed having found no sign of any barrels, she halted and glanced up at the sky—at the sun moving steadily west behind the scudding clouds. “I wonder what the others will think of us being allowed to ride out freely even after Cecilia’s murder.” She glanced at Sebastian as he halted beside her. “You don’t think it’ll mark us as working with the authorities—especially to the murderer?”
His gaze scanning the fields before them, he considered, then shook his head. “Even now, I think their first assumption will be that I—and you, too—are pulling rank, purely to get out of the house. After all, if we insisted on riding, what could Sir Humphrey or Crawford do to stop us? The others know we haven’t left, and as for the murderer, although he has no doubt guessed that I was the one Ennis intended to speak with, as apparently Ennis was dead before I found him, there’s no sense in the murderer risking showing his hand by attempting to silence me.” He met her gaze. “As I learned nothing from Ennis, I can’t be a threat. Unlike poor Cecilia, who Ennis might have confided in.”
She humphed and tried to stifle a persistent sense of unease—not on her account but on his.
He gestured to their horses, and she walked beside him to where they’d tethered their mounts to the branches of a stunted tree.
“Still,” she persevered, “I can’t help feeling that the company at large might start to question your purpose in being here. Our excuse—that you’re here as my father-decreed escort—while acceptable, is hardly unshakably convincing.”
He lifted her to her saddle. As he swung up to his, he slanted an amused glance her way. “After the events of yesterday evening and this morning, I believe my presence here will have been adequately explained to all. Far from imagining I’m here pursuing some intrigue, I’d wager the question exercising Mrs. Parrish’s and Mrs. McGibbin’s minds will be whether your father knows I’m here with you at all.”
She humphed and turned the chestnut’s head once more to the west. “Our relationship—our connection—is not that obvious, and I’m sure Wilson and Filbury are gentlemen enough to be discreet.”