Page 58 of Beyond the Grave
"I would," I muttered, "if you actually asked me instead of telling me."
A muscle bunched in his jaw. It remained bunched until we reached the village. The day was still sunny, and I'd enjoyed our walk. While he'd walked on in anger, I'd soaked in the fresh air and sunshine, and the pretty scenery. I wasn't ready to head inside, even though I was a little hungry.
"You can go ahead, if you like, and find the doctor," I said. "I want to walk alongside the stream." I picked up a brown leaf and dropped it over the side of the bridge. I counted the seconds as it floated to a large tree with giant roots clinging to the bank like claws. I picked up a smaller leaf and timed it too.
"I'll walk with you," he said.
I turned to see him watching me, his eyes clear and not as dark as they usually appeared. It must be an effect of the bright sunshine. I smiled at him. I couldn't help it. He was so dashingly handsome, standing there with his hands resting on the stone bridge. It was so tempting to kiss him and see if he kissed me back.
But I didn't want to risk ruining the moment.
I clamped a hand on my hat and trotted along the bridge. "Come along then."
We descended a set of crude stone stairs to the path edging the bank. Small fish flashed silver in the water, darting over pebbles and between reeds. I removed my glove and dipped my fingers in near the school. They scattered but a moment later returned to investigate the strange objects in their midst. They kissed my fingers before once more swimming off to find something to nibble. I stood and shook off the icy droplets.
"I can't believe how clear this water is," I said. "The Thames is a cesspit by comparison."
When Lincoln didn't respond, I glanced at him. He leaned one shoulder against a tree trunk, his arms crossed, and watched me from beneath lazy lids. I'd never seen him quite so relaxed before. The countryside agreed with him.
We walked a little further but my growling stomach reminded me that it was growing late and we hadn't eaten luncheon. "Hungry?" I asked.
"Very." His quiet purr made my stomach flutter.
We ate a hearty lunch at The Fox and Hound then headed out again, following the innkeeper's directions to Dr. Turcott's rooms. We waited while the doctor finished with a patient, using the opportunity to question his wife who sat at the front desk and managed his schedule. She claimed that her husband hadn't seen any patients fitting Buchanan's description a week ago. The doctor confirmed this when he finally spared a few moments for us.
By the time we left his rooms, the shadows had grown longer and the air cooler. I pulled the edges of my cloak together.
"What now?" I asked.
"Now you should rest your foot. You've walked far today."
"It's fine, Lincoln. Besides, I'm not going to sit down while you continue to question villagers."
"You are if your foot hurts."
"It doesn't."
"If the wound reopens, it could become infected and take much longer to heal."
"Thank you for your concern. I'll certainly stay off it if it does reopen but, for now, it's perfectly all right. So who shall we speak to next?"
"Buchanan must have stayed somewhere overnight, but our innkeeper claimed he wasn't there. I've seen two more inns in the village. We'll ask at those."
"What about boarding houses?"
"Those too, if the inns prove futile."
It was almost dark by the time we'd finished questioning the innkeepers and all the houses where a gentleman might board for the night, including the one where a rakehell like Buchanan would prefer to stay, thanks to its more dubious delights of gambling and women.
"Edgecombe witnessed the fight in the evening, but Buchanan didn't stay at Emberly, or in Harcourt," I said as we walked back to The Fox and Hound. "The trains don't run that late, and he had no private means of transport. Unless he found a farmer willing to give him a ride on his cart, then he couldn't have left, and the likelihood of a farmer traveling on country roads at night is slim. Lincoln, I don't think he made it out of there alive."
"It's now a distinct possibility."
I hunkered into my cloak, but it didn't smother the chill skittering down my spine. Lincoln removed his jacket, and I protested as he placed it around my shoulders.
"You'll need it," I said. "It's much too cold to be wandering about in nothing but your shirt and waistcoat." Not to mention uncivilized.
"I don't feel the cold."
