Page 8 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
He shrugged. “It’s just logical.” He lifted a brow at his friend. “Are you going to come sleuthing with me, today?”
“Back to the Cock and Crown? I thought Thomkins told you Stillwater hadn’t been around there lately?”
“He did. He was far more forthcoming once you left for home. He said Stillwater was besieged with questions about your fossil, after it was first found. Everyone bombarded him, the locals, the other gentlemen in the neighborhood, even some of the house party guests. They all wanted to know what you would do with it, and what it was worth. He said at first the old man enjoyed the attention, but he must have tired of it, because he started to refuse to talk about it, then stopped coming in at all, after years of a regularly scheduled habit.”
“Well, so much for your plan of cornering him in the pub.”
“Exactly. Therefore, I decided to approach the problem from a different angle. I told him I had agreed to take delivery of some furniture for Keswick at the Roudley farm. I asked if there might be some large, strong men about the village that might be willing to take a day’s job, moving the heavy pieces.”
“Very quick of you,” Tensford said with reluctant approval. “Did he give you an answer?”
“He did. Apparently, the Curtis brothers are the men to go to for such things.”
“Hmmm . . . I don’t know the name.”
“They are quarrymen, it would seem, but they are also willing to take the odd job that requires muscle. He’s seen them negotiating jobs in the taproom, more than once.” He raised a brow.
“It could lead to something,” Tensford conceded.
“Would you care to come with me to speak to them?”
The earl pressed his lips together. “I think I shall decline, if only because they may follow the tavern keeper’s example and be willing to speak more openly if I am not about.”
“Suit yourself.” He stood and drained his cup. “I’ll report back with my findings.”
He strode for the stables, fighting to keep his focus on how to approach the Curtis brothers and not on a pair of green and gold-flecked eyes blinking at him in surprise.
He’d sent word on ahead, so his horse was nearly ready. He stroked Scylla’s chestnut head and whispered in her ear while the groom tightened the girth and straps. It wasn’t until the lad stepped away that Sterne took a step back and saw a lovely, dapple-grey mare being led out. In the courtyard she was hitched to a black gig that matched the dark markings on her legs and muzzle.
He stiffened and quickly took the reins from the boy and mounted up. He should hurry. If he left before—
“Good morning, again, Mr. Sterne.”
He closed his eyes and did not turn. “Miss Munroe.”
“Are you headed for the village? We can go out together.”
He should have known. For weeks, the thought of her had been a flash of light at the edge of his vision, constantly snagging his attention from the task at hand. Now that he was back in Gloucestershire, she kept popping up and stealing his focus.
“I am going beyond the village, but I will be happy to see you that far, Miss Munroe.” He kept the resignation out of his voice as he mounted up.
She carried a good-sized jar with her, and she paused long enough to open a satchel left sitting on the seat of her vehicle and place it inside. Hesitating, she turned to look up at him. “Actually, I’d hoped to run into you sometime today, sir.”
“Fortunate then, that you managed it so early.” Fortunate for her. Torture for him, he was beginning to realize.
“Yes.” She pulled something from the satchel. A rolled piece of parchment, it looked like, tied with a green ribbon. Approaching, she held it out. “I don’t mean to be forward. I know young women are not meant to be giving gentleman gifts, but as it’s not really a personal item, I hope I’ll be forgiven.”
“I . . . Thank you,” he said mechanically. He held up an end of the ribbon. “Shall I?”
“Please.”
He pulled the ribbon free and unrolled it. It was a botanical print, the colors lush and the words small and precise.
“Scottish heather,” she said. “I just . . . I recalled our conversation about the various properties and uses of it, that evening during the house party.”
Oh, yes. He recalled it, too. She’d sung for the company that evening, and he’d been caught, trapped by the sweetness of her voice, held in thrall by the lively, simple tune she’d chosen. No drama. No strained showing off for the lofty gathering. Just a fun and catching song that he could imagine her singing at home, while her family joined in. Her performance had called to him, and he’d gone up to escort her back to her seat when she finished. That was when he’d discovered that they shared so many interests. He’d found that she liked travel and learning and had a special interest in the natural sciences. They had spoken of heather, yes, and also of the prettiest places to be found in the Highlands and also in the Cotswolds, and they had argued teasingly over the odds of his friend Keswick kissing the countess’s sister, Lady Glory.
“I remember,” he said roughly. “Thank you, it’s very thoughtful.”
