Page 39 of Fair Weather Enemies
“And the beak of one as well.” He thumped his aquiline nose. Hester laughed and dipped her eyes.
“I have always admired a good hawk.”
Barlow froze as if in confusion. Adam cocked his head in wonder as the self-proclaimed most effective solicitor in London, a man who orated for a living, seemed abruptly lost for words. Hester glanced up at him shyly and smiled. The simple act appeared to unlock him from his frozen state. He straightened his cravat, and a swagger appeared in his step.
“I will consider that a compliment, Hester.”
Adam peeked at Jane to find her equally dumbfounded. When she looked at him with drawn brows, he shrugged. However, he knew very well what had happened. It seemed that Hancock women were naturally adept at disarming those dedicated to resisting them.
“Resist, Adam,” he whispered to himself. “Resist.”
“What are you mumbling, Mr. Ashford?”
He cut his eyes toward his nemesis. “Nothing. Simply admonishing myself to remain focused on the task at hand.”
A tiny smile curled one side of her lovely mouth as if she’d ascertained his thoughts. How could she know his mind? And when had he begun regarding her mouth as lovely? He shook his head and shoulders vigorously to erase the questions and strode ahead with the horse to join Hester and Barlow. Another moment alone with Jane might threaten to unravel his determination.
…
“Hello? Mr. Fudge?”
Adam’s tentative call echoed through the empty assembly hall of St. Andrew’s Church. No reply came.
“Perhaps the priest is not here,” Jane said.
A distant clinking of glass gave evidence otherwise. Hester pointed toward a door adjacent the dais. It stood slightly ajar, and the sound had come from that direction. “There, I believe.”
Without further discussion, they trod carefully toward the door. Adam opened it and slipped through with the others trailing quietly. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he spied a man garbed in black sipping from a bottle, his back to the approaching group. Adam walked toward the stranger.
“Vicar?”
The man dropped the bottle, which shattered at his feet, and wheeled to face Adam. The white Geneva band circling his throat identified him as clergy. The band matched the whites of his wide eyes.
“I was merely testing the quality of the sacramental wine and nothing more!”
The assertion proved rather defensive. Adam narrowed his eyes to assess the man. A black suit swallowed a slight frame that seemed in constant motion. Close-set dark eyes offered suspicion.
“Pardon the interruption, vicar,” Adam said calmly. “We are simply four travelers from afar wishing to ask you a few questions.”
The vicar’s suspicion erupted into full alarm. “From afar, you say? Did the bishop send you? Has he been asking about me? Have you come to spy on me? To report on my work? If so, I know nothing of the missing funds.” His nervous hands wrung together in a white-knuckled knot. “Or is this about the wine again? I taste it only to ensure appropriate quality. I seek only the best interest of my beloved parishioners, you see.” His breath caught suddenly, and his face blanched. “This is not about that woman, is it? I know nothing of the woman! Ridiculous rumors, nothing more.” His hands flew suddenly to his mouth to stifle a gasp. “Did she send you? Is she with, with, with…child? Why, such cannot be…”
“We are not from the bishop or the woman, for Heaven’s sake!”
Jane’s loud and impatient response immediately halted the vicar’s diarrhea of words. He stared at her with surprised relief. “No?”
She stepped to Adam’s elbow. “We are not from the bishop or from any mysterious woman who may or may not be with child. We are certainly not spying.”
The priest unclenched his hands. “Then who the devil are you?”
“As we said, simple travelers on the road in search of a particular grave. Mr. Thistlethwaite of High Hesket directed us to you.”
The vicar wrinkled his nose and blinked his eyes as if expecting a glob of saliva from Jane. “My drunken cousin? I do not have his money.”
At that, the vicar darted toward the door, apparently intending to flee. Adam moved quickly to catch his arm. “Sir, we are not here to collect money, but simply to ask a question or two about a giant’s grave. Nothing more, I assure you.”
The priest blinked twice. “Giant’s grave? Is that all?”
“Yes, Reverend Fudge.”
